For as long as Lam Thanh Van can remember, he never dreamed.
Whenever he closed his eyes, darkness greeted him, welcoming him into its comforting embrace.
But now, the darkness was filled with the sweet scent of peach blossoms.
In his dream, it was summer. Sunlight reflected off the dew that clung to fresh grass. At the foot of the hill, Thanh Van stood watching from the shadowy corners of the many swooping trees.
On top of a small hill, where peach blossoms bloomed, their sweet scent carried over by the warm summer breeze that rustled the helm of Thanh Van's humble robes, a man stood waiting.
Long, ivory hair flowed freely in the wind. Red ruby eyes gleamed under the blinding sun. A smile played on his crimson lips as he shielded himself from the cloudless sky with his flowy sleeve.
Thanh Van felt his heart fill with lead, the person before him the spitting image of all the albino NPC skins he had donned in the many scenarios before. But now that man stood in front of him, in the flesh, as ethereal as a god who suddenly graced this earth with his presence.
White robes rustled in the wind, the exquisite golden stitching glimmering in the sun, blinding whoever gazed his way with its intricate details.
What should have been a soul-stirring beauty only made Thanh Van's fingers curl into his palms, until a stinging pain shot up his elbow like electric currents.
Thanh Van let out a choked breath as he studied the rough palms etched with crescent wounds left behind by his fingers.
These hands were nothing like the slender fingers of Ruan An that had never seen a day of hard labour. Never had to wield a sword nor suffer under the gruelling sun.
The scent of blood ruined the perfect scenery - hell, he was sure he could taste the copper in the back of his throat. He let his hand fall on his side, roughly wiping the crimson into his grey robes.
But no matter how he breathed in the refreshing summer air, the sweetness always carried with it the subtle note of coppery blood. It clung to his tongue and lined his throat.
The wounds on his palm itched, and when Thanh Van took another glance at the rough hands, the tiny, bloody holes twitched, the skin squirming as if alive.
Thanh Van instinctively rubbed his palm on his robes harder, but the itch only got worse until he wanted to tear the skin off his hand.
Up on that hill, the beauty studied him with a cruel smile on his lips, the blood-like irises boring into him…
Thanh Van took a sharp breath in as he blinked his eyes open, cold sweat peppering his visage. The cotton shirt had glued onto his back, the quilt soaked in sweat weighing heavily over him.
Outside, the sun had long risen, painting the walls of the inn in shades of gold and copper, highlighting the bloody flakes over the hooks swaying from the ceiling.
But Thanh Van lay still, barely breathing, as he gazed into bloodshot eyes hovering right before his face.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Droplets of crimson hit the stone floor, the sound echoing in the deafening silence.
The white of Christof Kunze's eyes had darkened from all the broken blood vessels, the round eyeballs lumpy with tiny wriggling grains of milky white.
Thanh Van felt his spine itch as his gaze trailed over Christof's manic smile and down to the fishing knife that should have belonged to Kruger in Christof's hand.
The blade slowly cut into Christof's flesh, the ragged teeth biting into his skin before it tore strips of flesh off. Chunks of rotting flesh and skin hung from Christof's arm, the cuts so deep, his bones peeked from beneath the bloody mass.
The contents of the fleshy pouches pooled over Thanh Van's bed, the soup of squirming, crawling parasites tickling his fingers and palm.
Thanh Van sat up slowly, the bed creaking miserably under his movements. He wanted to shout out of disgust, but he bit his tongue. His movements seemed to stir the other players as someone screamed before they fell on their asses, crawling away from the blood pooling on the floor.
"W-what the fuck, Christof!"
The rest of the players shot up, shouting and cursing as they stumbled out of their beds, scrambling towards the doors.
"You are crazy!"
"H-holy shit!"
"Let us out! He has lost his mind!"
The bed next to Thanh Van wailed under the mountainous man's movements.
So Kruger was still alive.
Then, how the fuck did this crazy fucker get hold of the knife?!
Thanh Van held Christof's gaze, his hand slowly pulling the quilt aside, clearing all possible obstacles from his way. He needed to be fast if this motherfucker decided to lunge at him.
"Sit still, musclehead, or the pretty bitch will get it." Christof spat, pointing the still-dripping knife over Thanh Van's shoulder at Kruger.
The sergeant had stood up but froze as the knife cut through the air with the blade near gracing Thanh Van's ear.
"You need to calm down-" Kruger said, his voice tight as Christof waved the blade carelessly, a crooked smile on his sweaty, gaunt face.
"And you need to. SHUT. THE FUCK. UP!"
The screeching hurt Thanh Van's ear but he sat still. The spittle sprayed over his cheek from Christof's shouting, and Thanh Van contemplated if he wanted to be punished by the system or not.
He wouldn't die from it, but even more so, he really, really wanted to see the others' reaction to Christof Kunze.
Now that was where all the fun lied.
"You can't hurt us, or you will be punished by the system." Thanh Van said calmly, so calmly that it grated Kunze's nerves. The tip of the knife brushed against Thanh Van's lashes. Just a little bit more and it would carve into his eyeball.
With his back to the rest of the inn and only Christof seeing his face, Thanh Van grinned, baring his perfectly white teeth.
Christof Kunze's smile faltered, his grip over the blade tightening.
This will be fun.