As he was dragged through the dark corridors of the cavern, the pain from the rough ground scraping against his skin was unbearable. Dylan struggled to stand, but the creature's strength far surpassed his own. He felt like a trapped hamster, desperately writhing in the creature's merciless grip.
Finally, he was taken into a smaller cave. On one wall, a small waterfall trickled down the rock, flowing continuously into a large pool. There, several feminine figures bathed in the clear water.
Their skin was dazzlingly white, contrasting with their long black or silver hair. They were tall, most towering over two meters, and though their features resembled humans, their long, pointed ears immediately set them apart.
Dylan observed everything with a mixture of fascination and fear, but his attention quickly shifted to the creature holding him. With its single prominent eye and grotesque appearance, he had quickly decided to call it "the Cyclops," a nickname inspired by the mythical creatures in his books.
The Cyclops handed Dylan over to one of the tall, pointy-eared women who approached with an almost otherworldly grace. Before letting go of him, she warned in a raspy voice:
"Don't damage him."
Holding Dylan as one would carry a child, the woman gently lifted him and submerged him into the water. Instantly, the other women gathered around him and began washing him.
"How does it feel, boy?" asked the Cyclops, lounging lazily on a nearby rock. "It's not every day you have the honor of being cleaned by the Naiads of the Matriarch."
A ray of sunlight pierced through a large hole in the cavern's ceiling, illuminating the pool with a warm glow. Dylan glanced at the sun's position in the sky and concluded it must be around noon.
The Naiads' attention to his body was meticulous. Their hands glided over his skin, cleaning every wound and scar with delicate care. It wasn't unpleasant, quite the opposite. Yet, they remained silent—a stark contrast to the chatter he had heard before the Cyclops entered. Their sudden reserve was palpable.
In this unexpected moment of calm, Dylan felt his pain subside, replaced by a strange serenity. His thoughts drifted, leaping from one idea to another. All of this… it had to be a dream. A lucid dream where he could interact with everything around him. Otherwise, how could he explain such an absurd situation?
He found himself at the heart of a nightmare that, oddly, had taken an almost pleasant turn. After all, he was being carefully washed by six stunning beauties with generous curves. It wasn't every day such a thing happened to him. Maybe it was better to let himself go and wait for it all to end.
His thoughts shifted to his duty. As a lieutenant, he had always been devoted to his men. Though he never let them get close to him, he watched over them with silent dedication. He worked to remain distant, avoiding unnecessary attachments because losses were inevitable. Every battle claimed his subordinates, replaced by others whose names he never bothered to remember.
In this world ravaged by bombs and radiation, where survival was a daily fight, Dylan had chosen a selfish but necessary path: to survive at all costs. Not to be a hero, but simply to be the last one standing.
When he was lifted out of the water, the Naiads continued their work. Dylan, now accustomed to such treatment, didn't feel particularly embarrassed by their touches or the fact that they saw him naked. After all, it felt strangely similar to the cleansing rituals he underwent after each battle, before being allowed into the safe zones of the survivors.
War had prepared him for many things. But at this precise moment, under the gaze of these strange creatures, he realized he might not be as ready as he had always believed.
---
They dressed him by wrapping him in a fabric held in place by a small cord tied around his waist, forming a makeshift tunic. It wasn't as sophisticated as the pants he had worn before, but it was better than walking around completely naked.
The Cyclops rose from her rock and slowly approached while the Naiads combed Dylan's hair with a wooden comb. To his surprise, she didn't grab him by the collar to drag him like a sack of potatoes. Instead, she stepped away slightly, taking one of the Naiads' hands to whisper something out of earshot.
Seizing the moment of respite, Dylan lowered his eyes to his rippling reflection in the clear pool.
Everything felt too real to be a dream. Aside from these strange creatures, nothing else seemed surreal. His gray eyes blended with his slightly tanned brown skin. His symmetrical face, which one might call nearly perfect, bore the marks of a harsh life: deep circles under his eyes, a lean frame betraying prolonged malnutrition, and above all, the emptiness in his gaze. The light in his eyes, lost on the battlefield, didn't seem eager to return.
If this were a dream, why would he imagine a world untouched by war's devastation while carrying this face burdened with regret and guilt? If it were merely a dream, why not grant himself a moment of reprieve, free from this crushing weight?
In this strange world, he preferred to face a brutal reality than to bear his faults and selfish desires any longer.
So, he had to wake up.
Dylan bit his tongue savagely. A searing pain shot through him, cutting his thoughts short. It wasn't part of the plan to feel such agony. Panic. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.
The Naiads saw him stagger and hurried to react. They handed him a vial containing a mysterious liquid. Dylan didn't understand how, but he managed to drink it, almost reflexively.
A warm sensation coursed down his throat, into his stomach, and through his entire body like a soothing wave. Moments later, he felt his tongue completely healed, the pain gone.
"Thank you…" Dylan coughed as he straightened, his eyes widening in surprise at the sound of his own voice.
But before he could comprehend what had happened, a massive fist slammed violently into his stomach. The Cyclops had struck him. The impact was so intense that he felt like he'd hit a wall of metal.
"You take advantage of me turning my back to try and kill yourself?" the Cyclops growled, her single eye gleaming with irritation. "If I were you, I'd avoid dying here in this cavern. You already know what happens to corpses, don't you?"
She leaned in close, a predatory smile twisting her grotesque face.
"Unless you want to end up under someone's teeth, kid? If that's your wish, I can make sure I get the first bite."