Author Note/Warning: This chapter will have a major timeskip. It is mostly arbitrary and forced by me to make stuff happen the way I need them to (which is lazy writing, I know). It will probably be a pretty jarring transition and a lot will be explained retroactively. I know it's not fair to you, but I would ask you to stick with me through this as I will try to make this abrupt shift as smooth as possible.
With that being said, please enjoy.
The Soul Sea under 7 strange and mad moons shuddered. The weight of the current occurrence was one that far exceeded anything that had happened since this Soul Sea formed.
The ocean of blood that surrounded the humongous forest and cobble stone sanctuary rippled.
The endless twisting dungeons high in the sky shook, and dust rained down like a sheet of grey sorrow.
Dimensions split and collapsed as the Dream of the man named Gehrman was produced from a pocket of space-time that simultaneously existed and did not exist.
This illusory form merged with the lone Shadow that stood below the Workshop that was the very heart of this Soul.
Then, a thrum was released, like the heartbeat of a giant. It steadily pumped and beat as the latest of the 7 blood moons, that which held an event horizon around its impossible shape, started to tear open.
Torrents of Blood Fragments poured from the sky, all reaching toward the shadow that had combined with the dream of Gehrman.
It was hundreds, then thousands.
Eventually that 7th Soul Core shook and cracked. The collapsing Titan Core fell, its pieces crumbling and falling into the ocean of blood far below. Tsunamis came and doused the Workshop and Forest as the devastation of losing a Soul Core wrecked the fabric of this place.
Then, greedily, more Blood Fragments were pulled from the oppressively circling blood moon that represented the Terror Core.
The Soul Sea braced for worse, but fortunately, the shadow seemed satiated before too long. Tendrils of blood appeared, microscopic in origin. Slowly stitching the form of Gehrman back together.
The progress was a painful crawl, even worse than the other times Gehrman needed to be put back together by Paleblood.
As tiny tendrils of meat shuddered and contorted, the world outside continued.
…
The Battle of Black Skull did not end with the forces of Song or Valor defeating the other. It ended when the sky split open, and a Great horror reached through and pulled itself into the Waking World.
Besides the Cursed creature in America, this was now the strongest creature on earth.
A Great Titan descended, followed swiftly by a Great Tyrant.
Each were calamitous in their stature and power, instantly hundreds died from the mere presence of the creature.
Fortunately, only one Saint died that day.
By the hands of an Ascended, Dire Fang fell in a fit of frothing madness.
Saint Madoc, Whispering Blade, almost met an end to a tentacle of a Great Titan, but was saved by an instinctual act from the Master who had slain the Song Saint.
The release of the potent kinetic energy of a Saint (that had been absorbed by [Remembrance]) was released in a wave of destruction that slightly altered the trajectory of the Titan.
Even the collective might of several blows from a powerful Saint were unable to wound the Titan, but the explosion did buy enough time for Whispering Blade and many others to escape to the only location in which they could flee.
The Dream Realm.
…
Anvil of Valor stood over the dead corpse of the man named Gehrman.
He raised an eyebrow as the Nightmare Spell seemed to undergo something of a fit.
[You have s-slain Tr@nsc%ndent T-ti9n—]
And then the faltering message ended. The Sovereign frowned, more disturbed by the lack of a proper death message than the horrors that had just infiltrated the realm.
However, he did make a move rather swiftly after that.
Due to the increased distortion brought on by the multiple Category 4 Gates, the Awakened escaping into the Dream Realm were sent far and wide across the Nightmare Desert. A few appeared within the bounds of his Domain, and he immediately reinforced them, sending a sword to help guide and coordinate those of Valor while slaying anyone who swore to Song.
However, the dangers of the Dream Realm were incomparable to what might befall the Waking World.
While it was true that Anvil did not care if all of Antarctica went up in ash, the possibility of those Great creatures feasting on each other and all the other Nightmare Creatures that were gathering around the Gates was troublesome.
If another Cursed Nightmare Creature was born from the numerous high quality deaths, it would lead to a serious disaster with worse ramifications than simply losing a continent.
Even he had limits on what he would allow to happen to humanity at large, he didn't want the number of future citizens to dwindle too much, lest he not reach his full potential.
So he made the decision.
He transported himself to the Waking World, and then, the Sovereign of Steel cut the very fabric of the world open.
Another Gate appeared, but no Nightmare Creatures walked from it.
Instead, it opened to the Great Citadel that Anvil ruled over: Bastion.
The dreamy medieval city appeared like a mirage when one looked through that gate.
This was an inherent ability of any Supreme, the Dream Gate allowed them to not only transport themselves and others to the Dream Realm, but also allow for a continuous path between worlds to be held open.
And so, with his Domain breathing out from the Dream Gate, Anvil summoned his storm of swords and challenged the Great Nightmare Creatures of Antarctica.
Not knowing he had made a costly mistake.
…
In the Dream Realm, the third Great abomination that came from the Gates terrorized all who fled there.
The Great Terror would become known as The Skinwalker. An odious being who existed throughout multiple corpses, making each one strong enough to challenge a Saint.
This clever creature had noted the influx of humans fleeing to the Dream Realm and fought against its instincts to invade the Waking World in order to return to the Nightmare Desert and tear apart the stragglers.
Under the still flaming sky that acted as a remnant of the horrifying battle between Gehrman and the King of Swords, the Skinwalker hunted.
Awakened couldn't even register the danger before they were mercilessly killed.
Masters were picked off one by one.
Eventually a band of the most notable, including Sunny, Nephis, Cassie, Kai, Effie, Caster, Jet, Morgan, and Seishan formed a unit, and they braved the Desert together, doing their best to survive.
Days passed as they barely made it past hordes of abominations much stronger than them.
Anvil, meanwhile, made steady progress. The Tyrant was dead, but he pushed to kill the Great Titan as well. That being was raw strength with a seemingly endless well of regeneration. However, Anvil was a master of runes, and he was growing better and better at killing the thing.
Eventually, the Saints Beastmaster, Summer Knight, and Whispering Blade found the contingent of Masters.
Morgan and Seishan were both to be transported back to the Waking World, and then immediately safely back home, but only one other could be taken.
Nephis, being the Princess of Valor, was of course told to come with, but after a silent conversation with Sunny, she declined the offer.
Despite her "uncles" warnings, she convinced him to leave her.
Mordret had been speaking silently to Sunless, and the group had hatched a daring plan.
They too could make it out of this hell through simple means, all it took was becoming Saints. And there just so happened to be a Seed a reasonable distance away.
In the end, Madoc relented, and so it was that a new group of Saints were set to be born.
Nephis, Cassie, Effie, Kai, Jet, Caster, Mordret, and Sunny would challenge the Third Nightmare in order to become Saints.
They were the most deadly Masters in the world aside from the Princesses of the Great Clans. If anyone could pass this trial it was them.
However, the seed they selected was far more dire than any of them could have imagined.
For it took them into a hell that was inconceivable simply by its nature. That hell was the inside of what the Great Clans thought was a Great Citadel. The Black Pyramid that was forever out of reach, like a mirage atop the desert.
In this Nightmare, they would venture inside it.
A place that twisted the concept of time and forged horrors the likes of which had never been seen in any realm.
The Tomb of Ariel.
8 entered as Masters, and 8 left as Saints. Forever changed by what they had experienced.
Nephis, Cassie, Effie, Kai, Jet, Caster, Mordret, and… there was one more. One more escaped from that Tomb. Yet when they returned, the cohort and the world recognized the 7 Masters who bravely entered a Nightmare and all 7 of them returned as Saints.
No one died.
There had always been 7…right?
All who had been there agreed it was just them who entered and made it out together. Nephis, Cassie, Effie, Kai, Jet, Caster, and Mordret.
In the very second they entered the twisted time of the Tomb of Ariel, they simultaneously returned to the Waking World.
It was as if no time had passed at all.
When in reality, though they had only a few months of recollected memories, the cohort had been stuck in a loop of time that lasted for over 1,000 years.
…
A shadow with no name appeared from the depths of the Nightmare. He grasped at himself. His very soul and all that connected him to reality had been snatched by a Cursed Terror.
He no longer existed.
Or rather, he had never existed. Disconnected from the great tapestry of Fate, how could anyone possibly remember him.
Lost, he traveled.
He descended to the Ebony Tower, an ancient place that a Daemon once used as his Workshop. There the shadow learned terrible truths about the gods and the universe. Then he moved on, reaching the Hollow Mountains and the fog that carpeted its top.
For 18 months the shadow traveled through that fog. Listless, in pain, and yet still clinging to life, he traveled past the Hollow Mountains and crossed into a lightless realm.
The shadow returned to the Forgotten Shore.
…
As the shadow made his journey. Changing Star and Song of the Fallen ingratiated themselves further into Valor. The Great Citadel, the Ivory Tower, was a flying island that could move anywhere, and so it moved to the whims of Nephis.
Directed by Anvil, she and her Firekeepers (many of whom were now Masters) decimated hordes of abominations, clearing a path for future warfare.
Jet, Effie, and Kai became the 3rd, 4th, and 5th Government Saints respectively. Each offering a massive boost to the neutral party's authority.
Then, in an odd turn of events, the man named Caster left the forces of Valor, returning the Charm that nullified his Flaw.
Oddly, it seemed he had gotten a similar Memory during his 3rd Nightmare. Though he couldn't remember where he got it.
It was a strange Charm with an even stranger description. It was only one line, and it did not at all seem like something the Spell would usually write. It said:
[Keep your promise, asshole.]
And that was it.
From there, he came back to the Workshop. Temporarily taking the role of leader from Oskar. This allowed the future owner of the New Workshop, and many other Hunters, to take on the 2nd Nightmare and become Masters.
Lastly Mordret made his way back to Song. The Great Clan was in shambles due to the disappearance of Gehrman, the death of Dire Fang, and the impending war.
What once seemed like a conflict far off in the future now had its timeline drastically moved up.
…
By the time the 8, or rather, the 7 Saints returned to society the Sovereigns had gone public.
The official story was quite simple. Once Ki Song and Anvil of Valor learned of the Antarctica disaster, they went and found a 4th Nightmare Seed, and they succeeded.
Humanity now had two Supremes to protect them.
The world turned upside down as the Dream Gates created by the god-like Sovereigns allowed for massive amounts of resources to be transported between realms.
Not only that, but the rest of the people in Fort Balmuth were able to instantly evacuate to the Dream Realm safe and sound.
The population of Bastion and Ravenheart skyrocketed as literal millions of people poured in to saturate the growing society.
Housing was built en-masse and economy and social structures were erected practically overnight.
The power of the Soverigns grew exponentially as their Citadels swelled with new Souls. Even if they were more mundane, the sheer gratitude and number of the refugees was a great boon, and since they were both allies on the surface, they split the boon evenly.
However, that would not remain the case.
If things had gone as Ki Song had originally planned, the Domain War would occur in 4, or maybe 5 years.
That was no longer acceptable.
It wasn't acceptable for either of them.
Ki Song had been cultivating emotion, building off the love she had for her daughters to try and rekindle the dwindling humanity inside her at Gehrman's suggestion.
Now Gehrman was dead.
It was a temporary thing, most likely.
However since Anvil was personally involved, it was likely that until she killed him, Gehrman wasn't going to be able to make it back.
So she was on a timer. The more powerful grew the colder and more murderous the hundreds of thousands of corpses became. Her Will which was supposed to be indomitable yet generous, spread throughout the land, was growing jagged and bloody.
Seishan had left for her 3rd Nightmare almost immediately after returning. All of her daughters were in shock, with Beastmaster and Silent Stalker in particular feeling the weight of responsibility. They had almost certain victory, but they let their Gehrman, their brother-in-law, slip away.
Their desire for more strength, more death, and more bloodshed fueled the two, and it infected the other sisters as well.
Outwardly nothing had changed amongst the Song Sisters, but it was clear from those that were close to them that each was growing more and more deadly by the day.
At the same time, Anvil was also pressed for time.
Everything he knew about Gehrman told him that he would resurrect. It would likely be costly, he would perhaps even lose a few Soul Cores, but it would take more than a few deaths to truly get rid of him.
Fortunately, Anvil was prepared to force just such an occurrence. He had constructed a more permanent runic array, trapping an entire region of the Nightmare Desert with traps and protections to ensure that when Gehrman returned, he would die quickly thereafter.
Each day that past put Anvil more on edge.
He was not entirely sure how long the process would take. There were too many variables that were mysteries. It wore on him, the anticipation.
What was even more worrying was the dreadful, creeping thought that Gehrman had already returned and somehow managed to escape.
It was impossible based on everything he knew.
But he didn't know everything.
So he accelerated his plans for war.
…
The result of the Chain of Nightmares was disastrous and magnificent. Millions of people lost their lives, but humanity had grown stronger in the crucible. Each day more and more people were passing Nightmares as the knowledge of humanity allowed people to be even better prepared.
The New Workshop was a prime example.
The young men and women who had secretly snuck off to take on the 2nd Nightmare had returned.
Milo, the Government's most prized asset at the moment due to his Sacred Aspect, was now a Master.
The youngest Master ever, in fact.
Due to his nature and some interpretations of his art, the Government and the Workshop gathered he would rather not be treated as Changing Star had been. Put up on a pedestal as a beacon of light to inspire humanity. The propaganda machine of the Government was tempted, the boy's story being as ridiculous as it was, but they ultimately held back.
The New Workshop had gained a staggering number of Master and Awakened over the past couple months with Caster taking over much of the training that Gehrman would do.
There were now over 200 New Workshop Masters and over 30,000 Awakened.
Across the board the number of high quality individuals also skyrocketed. There were about 5,000 Masters in the whole of humanity and the number of Saints was growing much, much higher.
In those 18 months, what was once around 2 dozen Saints had doubled in size, with many more on the way.
Humanity as a whole had grown tremendously. However, they were about to cull themselves over internal conflict.
These numbers would be reduced, however, even more Saints and Masters would be born through the trials of a Domain War, forging warriors even more deadly than those that survived the Chain of Nightmares.
…
During this great shifting of civilization, the writhing red bloody tendrils worked together to grow back a Transcendent human from the dead.
After a year and a half, a ripple of profound Will shook the Soul Sea.
Gehrman opened his eyes, his brain still sluggish, body still unadjusted.
He felt very different, just like he had when he had first been resurrected at the Forgotten Shore.
Indeed, outside of the Nightmares, he had only died three times, and the last time had much of the burden offset by the Spell already having to reforge his body due to it becoming Transcedent.
He had no such luxury now.
How much…time has passed.
There were a lot of things that Gehrman was immediately concerned with. Three Category 4 Gates just opened on top of his wife and friends, after all.
Or perhaps it had not just happened. The last time he did this, resurrection took a couple months. Now, however, he was a Saint and the process would theoretically take much longer.
Gehrman felt his chest, feeling a wrongness there.
With furrowed brows he looked up.
"Shit."
He had lost a whole Soul Core.
Gehrman pulled up his runes.
Blood Fragments: [3,000/6,000]
He was indeed a Terror again, and his core wasn't even fully saturated.
Getting back to full strength would be a chore of epic proportions. A normal sized Corrupted Nightmare creature (one that had to be filled with blood) had to be harvested in order to get a single Blood Fragment.
That price was incredibly steep, but at the same time it wasn't impossible to deal with. His Transformation ability allowed him to take on much more Madness, and hold much more blood.
He had wasted a very large portion in his fight against Anvil, but there was still some left.
The biggest issue would be finding so many Corrupted and Great Nightmare Creatures for him to "farm".
Of course, he had much more pressing matters to deal with first.
He turned to look at the faintly glowing tombstone that lined the cobblestone path leading up to the Workshop.
Grimacing, recalled some details about his death.
The Nightmare Desert was already dangerous, but it was so much worse now. Anvil had a Citadel there, which meant he could send some of his people there.
He had no doubt the area he had died at would be crawling with security measures to put him right back into the grave.
Such an idea did not sit well with him.
Gehrman squinted at the tombstone, then he let his eyes slide over to the one next to it.
Only three were currently lit. It was something that he hadn't even noticed since in all of Johann's memories the faint lighting of the tombstones that signified available Hunter Lamps to transport to was ever present.
Of course, the light on different tombstones would only appear when he reached a different area…
A thought came to his mind then.
In the past, he had simply gone to the Lamp that had sprouted after he had died. There was never really a reason not to.
However, in the Hunters Dream during Johann's night of the hunt, he could transport to any Lamp from the Hunters Dream.
Gehrman's gaze slid downward to the first tombstone. That one held quite the emotional impact on him. The first time he resurrected he was in new territory, and he didn't know exactly what would happen or how he would get back.
The glowing of that tombstone was like a direct signal that he was going to be okay.
He walked over to it and stared for a long while.
"It might cost Blood Fragments, or, no probably Insight…Maybe it will cost nothing since [Contracted] is an Attribute? Or, it might not work at all. Wouldn't that be great? I will probably get jumped by a bunch of Valor Saints, or maybe that old spiteful bastard would be waiting for me himself."
Gehrman talked to himself. Not out of any sort of Madness, but simply as a way to ease his nerves.
He took a deep breath and outstretched his hand to the first tombstone.
The light grew, enveloping his being and perception in full. Blinding him and becoming him. Small black dots floated around, like something one might see on the outside of their vision.
Then the blackness grew and took over.
The darkness was soon all Gehrman could see.
However, it then took a shape.
He let out a shuddering breath as his senses took in the lightless surroundings. Well, lightless save for that tiny purple lamp that had inexplicably sprouted in Gehrman's very first workshop.
"My head is scraping the top of the ceiling now, just how small was I back then?" Gehrman chuckled as he took in the sight of the crudely built cave-home around him.
He was back in the Forgotten Shore.
Gehrman blinked a few times, a bit overwhelmed by emotion.
Then it was not emotion, but alarm that assaulted him.
That was because, with his [Sixth Sense] he could feel the presence of another. Impossibly, there was someone else at the Forgotten Shore. Someone was up near the Crimson Spire.
That figure, that entity that exuded formless and dreadful power, was burying bodies.
In the next moment, that being stiffened.
"Hello there," Gehrman said nervously.
It seemed that whatever this was also had the ability to sense their surroundings to an insane degree.
The being turned. It faced the exact spot where Gehrman was. Far below and in a cave.
Then it was gone.
Then it was outside the cave.
It had traveled in an instant.
This was not speed, but rather a movement ability. Still, the ease and distance covered by it left Gehrman on guard.
Gehrman couldn't help but tilt his head. Some of his worry that this was a Nightmare Creature waned further.
They had teleported outside the front door, after all, not directly into his old home.
Whatever this was, it had manners at least.
Gehrman stalked the narrow halls that had once seemed more than large enough. Now, he wasn't sure how he had ever fit in this place comfortably.
He stopped before the lever mechanism that moved the boulder-door. Gehrman could just tap the boulder and move it with ease now. Hell, he could just send out a trickle of blood to move it.
However, he was feeling nostalgic, so he pulled the lever.
There was indeed a figure standing outside, waiting, as if wanting to knock.
It was a human, and yet it wasn't.
Gehrman activated [Eyes on The Inside] to see the Soul Core that would power this being. However, what he saw shocked him to his core.
He paled a bit as he stared at the void standing where that person was.
There was no Soul Core, no imprints on other Dimensions, nothing.
It was as if the personification of absence had just come to knock on his door.
Long black hair was messily pulled backward. Pale features, a beautiful face, and a lithe figure made up the young man's stature. Dark eyes similar to pools of shadow met him.
They were hollow.
Broken.
Gehrman stood utterly still as his brain registered this non-person, this stranger.
However, Gehrman's very Soul shuddered.
Something was very, very wrong.
"Do I…know you?"
Gehrman hadn't noticed it before, but there was the faintest glimmer of hope on the man's face.
When Gehrman asked that question, his expression shattered. It was as if he had been stabbed in the heart.
The young man let out a sigh.
"I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up, even for you," the shadowy figure said. His voice was full of defeat, and Gehrman's heartstrings pulled with an uncomfortable amount of strain for a reason he could not understand.
"So I do know you?"
"#*(" the man said.
He said something. Gehrman heard him say something, but when he tried to register it, the response flowed off him.
In a fraction of a moment, Gehrman's expression changed. He had forgotten that he had heard the response.
Any other person would have asked again and again, not understanding why the man seemingly said nothing.
However, Gehrman noticed something off.
It was like a "skip" in a corrupted file. However the "skip" happened to the entirety of the surroundings.
Gehrman's brows furrowed.
"You said something just now, but I can't remember the response, it's like the memory simply won't take hold."
The man blinked at him, surprised.
"! #%#"
Another "skip" happened. The man had just confirmed, or denied, Gehrman's question. However he couldn't remember even that.
He had to admit, returning from the dead successfully for the first time in years and then being met with this peaceful but impossibly confusing situation was not what he had in mind.
"Intresting. I don't know what all you can say without my brain simply refusing to take hold of it, but let's workshop this, why don't you come inside?" Gehrman offered the man.
The shadow looked up at the Crimson Spire then back down toward Gehrman.
He shrugged.
"It's been over a year since I talked to someone who wasn't myself, so I'm okay with that. I think you will just get more frustrated though."
Gehrman smiled at him.
"I have an alien god inside my soul, if I can't figure out some weird memory glitch then what is the point of being an impossible existence?" This was not what he had planned, but there was a profound sadness in his heart seeing this guy in such a pitiful state.
"Though I'm kinda sure you have told me before, and I may not be able to remember it, I would like to ask, what is your name?"
The man returned a small smile.
"My name, or rather my True Name, doesn't exist anymore. However, you can call me Sunny, if you'd like."