The aswang, with its sharp features and glowing red eyes, sat calmly at the threshold of the next trial. Despite its fearsome appearance, its demeanor was surprisingly welcoming. The creature tilted its head as we cautiously approached, its voice smooth and composed.
"Congratulations," it said, its smile revealing sharp teeth. "You've passed the third trial. Not many make it through."
We exchanged wary glances but didn't let our guard down. I stepped forward, careful to keep a hand on my sword. "Why are you here? What's your role in all of this?"
The aswang chuckled, a sound that was both unnerving and strangely friendly. "Ah, always suspicious. I'm simply here to guide you. The trials are fair, though I hear whispers you took a... less traditional route to get here. No matter, the rewards you've earned are yours."
With a wave of its clawed hand, three bracelets materialized in midair, hovering before us. Each glowed faintly with a protective aura, the intricate designs on them radiating a quiet strength.
"These will shield you once from any fatal blow or attack," the aswang explained. "Wear them wisely."
We each took a bracelet, the metal warm against our skin. As I fastened mine, I felt an immediate sense of safety, as though an invisible barrier had formed around me.
"But you'll have to wait," the aswang continued, leaning back. "The fourth trial requires all participants to face it together. In the meantime, let me show you something."
The air around us shimmered as the aswang waved its hand again. A cascade of moving images appeared, floating like holograms. Each one displayed a different person in the throes of their nightmares, their fears and regrets laid bare.
We watched in silence, the atmosphere heavy. One of the first dreams we saw was of Clint. He wasn't among the current group because he had already passed. The aswang smirked. "He's quick, that one. Though I wonder how long he'll last in what's to come."
The professors from my school were next, their struggles vivid and raw. One was in his empty apartment, pacing back and forth, consumed by the loneliness of his divorce. The other was perched on a rickety suspension bridge, the height making him break into a cold sweat. Every step he took was agony, the fear of falling tangible even from where we stood.
"Interesting," Emilia muttered. "It's not just fears but regrets too. This trial is about facing the things that haunt us."
A particularly comical scene appeared, momentarily lightening the mood. A man, one of the challengers, was running through his nightmare with an older woman chasing him wielding a slipper. The iconic tsinelas, the weapon of choice for many an Asian mother.
"Ah, childhood trauma," Jose said with a half-smile, though his voice was heavy with exhaustion. "That one's universal."
The holograms shifted to another group, the cultivators who had been strong contenders throughout. But something about their dream stood out, it wasn't individual. They all seemed to be sharing the same nightmare.
A towering figure of an elderly Chinese man appeared, his long robes and flowing beard marking him as someone of importance. His face was stern, and his eyes gleamed with cruelty.
"That's Elder Yu," the aswang said, its voice tinged with curiosity. "An infamous cultivator from their world. His methods were brutal, even for their kind."
We watched in horror as the elder used medicinal concoctions on his students, forcing them to endure excruciating pain. Those who failed his trials didn't escape, they were used to create pills, their lives sacrificed for his twisted experiments.
The cultivators' fear and reverence for Elder Yu were evident. Despite his atrocities, it was clear they had been conditioned to obey him. Even in their dreams, they flinched at his commands, their wills broken under his tyranny.
"How could someone like that exist?" Emilia whispered, her face pale.
The aswang shrugged. "Cruelty takes many forms. And often, those who endure it carry the scars for life. Whether they overcome them or not… well, that remains to be seen."
As the images continued to play, I couldn't help but feel the weight of the trial we had just passed. Watching others struggle made me realize how close we had been to losing ourselves. Yet there was no time to dwell on the past and there is something even more challenging lay ahead.
"Rest while you can," the aswang said, its voice taking on a cryptic tone. "The fourth trial will test more than your strength. It will test your bonds, your resolve, and the very core of who you are."
I glanced at Jose and Emilia, both still processing their own nightmares. We had come this far together, but the journey ahead felt more uncertain than ever.
While waiting for the others to wake, I decided to break the silence. "What did you guys see in your nightmares?" I asked, glancing at Emilia and Jose. I figured if I wanted them to open up, I'd have to go first.
I took a deep breath. "I guess I should start with my past. The thing is... I don't remember much from when I was three to eight years old. It's like those years are just gone. What little I do remember is fleeting, flashes of my parents, fragments of their faces, and echoes of their voices. My grandparents used to tell me stories about them, saying they were kind and strong-hearted people. They claimed my parents had many followers and that they died in some tragic accident.
"But even as a kid, I felt like they were lying. Something about their story never sat right with me. My instincts told me there was more to it."
I paused, glancing at my hands as memories surfaced. "What I do remember are the lessons my parents taught me in those early years on how to be kind, how to understand others, and how to be more human than most. That's all I have left of them."
I sighed, my voice growing quieter. "In my dream... it was like a glimpse of what my life could've been. I saw myself growing up with them, a happy, normal life. My parents were there to guide me, to celebrate my successes and comfort me in my failures. It was everything I've ever wanted.
"But then it all twisted. They started enticing me to stay with them, promising me the life I'd always wished for. I almost believed it... but deep down, I knew it was just a dream. The memories I've made here, the battles, the trials and none of it could be denied. That's when the nightmare began. My parents' forms shifted, their faces melting into grotesque creatures, unwilling to let me go. It was horrifying."
I shook my head, snapping out of the memory. "That's how I escaped, by holding onto the hope of returning to reality, back to you guys. Back to my grandparents."
I turned to Jose. "How about you? I've been friends with you for two years, and honestly, I thought I knew you pretty well. But now I'm starting to think you've been keeping some secrets from me."
Jose hesitated, his expression unreadable. "Because you're my friend, I've tried to protect you from this world," he finally admitted. "But in the end, you got involved anyway. And now, it seems you've tapped into a power far beyond what I expected. You've become a cultivator, but you need to be careful."
"Careful of what?" I asked, leaning closer.
"Careful of them," he said gravely. "Cultivators from that country, China, they won't tolerate an outsider wielding their power system. And... there's something else." He paused, his gaze sharp. "You carry his blood."
"Whose blood?" I asked, but Jose shook his head, refusing to elaborate.
"Not yet," he said quietly. "Let's talk about that later."
I didn't push further and instead changed the subject. "What about your nightmare? What did you see?"
Jose leaned back, exhaling deeply. "It's tied to my family," he began. "We're part of an ancient organization called the KKK. You've probably heard of it was called the Kataastaasang Kagalanggalangang Katipunan ng mga Anak ng Bayan. But what people don't know is that the KKK didn't start with Andres Bonifacio. The history books have it wrong.
"The KKK existed long before the colonizers arrived. Bonifacio just found traces of the original organization in some ruins and used the idea to inspire his rebellion. But the ancient KKK wasn't about fighting colonizers and it was about fighting the mythical creatures of our folklore. They were the protectors, keeping humanity safe from creatures like the aswang, kapre, manananggal, and tiyanak.
"My family has been part of the KKK for generations, dating back to the time of the datus. Every member carries a special bloodline, but one particular family, mine carries the most unique of them all. Our ancestors helped create a sealed world to trap the most dangerous creatures. Even now, some of those creatures escape through cracks in the seal, and that's where the legends and stories come from."
"That's incredible," Emilia said, her voice tinged with awe. "But what was your nightmare?"
Jose's face darkened. "My father is part of the KKK too. Growing up, he put me through endless trials, training me to take up the mantle. My nightmare started there, reliving those grueling moments. But then it took a darker turn.
"I was on a hunt, tracking a creature that had been preying on humans. When I finally cornered it, I thought it was a monster. But it wasn't, it was a human. I killed him before I realized the truth. He was a trafficker, selling people as livestock to the creatures. But still... he was human. That moment haunts me, even though I know he wasn't innocent. In my nightmare, he came back to torment me, his face twisted with pain and accusation."
The room fell silent as Jose finished, his words hanging heavy in the air.
"I guess we all carry burdens," I said finally. "But at least we're still here. We made it through, and that has to count for something."
Jose nodded, his expression softening. "Yeah, we did. But I have a feeling things are only going to get harder from here."
"How about you Emilia?" Jose asked curiously.
Emilia shifted uncomfortably, her eyes flicking between Jose and me. She seemed hesitant, as if unsure whether to share. I offered her a reassuring nod.
"It's okay, Emilia," I said gently. "We've all gone through something. We're here for you."
She sighed, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Alright," she began. "I guess it's only fair. But where do I even start?"
She paused, gathering her thoughts. "You both know I'm a descendant of King Arthur, right? It sounds like a grand legacy and it is but it's also a burden. As the only direct bloodline to Arthur, everyone expects me to be something... extraordinary. Something perfect.
"But there's one glaring issue: I'm a girl. And to some people, that disqualifies me entirely."
She clenched her fists, her voice trembling. "You wouldn't believe the persecution I've faced because of that. Constant whispers, doubts, and outright dismissal. Every step I've taken has been a fight to prove them wrong. To prove that I belong."
She looked away, her voice softening. "My nightmare brought all of that back. It began with me standing before my family, their eyes full of disappointment. They said I wasn't good enough, that I was a disgrace to Arthur's legacy.
"I tried to argue, to defend myself, but they wouldn't listen. Then, suddenly, I was in the tomb of King Arthur himself. I prayed for guidance, for strength, for anything. And that's when the nightmare really began."
Her voice faltered, and I leaned forward. "What happened?" I asked.
"The tomb started to crumble, and Arthur's sword Excalibur appeared before me. I thought it was a sign, that he was granting me his blessing. But when I reached for it, the sword shattered. And then... he appeared."
Her hands trembled as she spoke. "King Arthur. Or at least, a twisted version of him. He said I was unworthy, that I was a disgrace to his bloodline. His words cut deeper than any blade ever could.
"He told me that the blood of heroes ran thin in me, that I was too weak to carry his legacy. And then he attacked. I fought back, but no matter what I did, it wasn't enough. He overpowered me, mocking me with every strike.
"Finally, he cornered me, his sword at my throat. I thought it was the end. But then... I remembered something. Something my mother told me before she passed.
"She said, 'You don't need to be a king to lead. You don't need to be perfect to inspire. What matters is your heart, your determination, and your willingness to fight for what's right.'
"Those words gave me strength. I stood up, even though I was battered and broken, and faced him one last time. I told him he was wrong. That I was worthy, not because of my blood, but because of who I am.
"And then... he smiled. Just for a moment. And the nightmare faded."
Emilia looked up at us, her eyes glistening. "It wasn't easy. But I think... I think I finally made peace with it. With myself."
Jose and I were silent for a moment, letting her words sink in. Then I smiled. "Emilia, you've always been worthy. Not because of your lineage, but because of the person you are. We've seen it, time and time again."
Jose nodded, his expression softening. "He's right. You've proven yourself more than any of those doubters ever could. And for what it's worth, I'm proud to fight alongside you."
Emilia's lips curved into a small smile, and she wiped her eyes. "Thank you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
In that moment, something shifted between us. The trials we'd faced, the burdens we'd shared, they had forged a bond stronger than any bloodline or legacy. We weren't just a group of people thrown together by circumstance anymore.
We were a team.
And as we prepared for whatever lay ahead, I knew that as long as we had each other, we could face anything.