When Xylon awoke the next day, it was as if a heavy weight had settled upon his chest.
He groggily opened his eyes, disoriented by the remnants of a terrible dream that still clung to the edges of his consciousness.
In the dim morning light filtering through the curtains, he struggled to piece together the fragments of his nightmarish ordeal.
He couldn't recall how he had fallen asleep, but the vivid memory of the dream remained etched in his mind.
In that haunting dream, he found himself trapped within a colossal arena, a place devoid of hope or escape.
The suffocating atmosphere weighed down on him, much like the crushing weight on his chest in the waking world.
What tormented him most was the relentless, malevolent force that sought to destroy him within that twisted nightmare.
