The scariest thing about the nightmare realm was the ambient silence. All that could be heard were the footsteps of the ethereal beast, trampling the black flowers beneath him with every aggressive step.
Oryn took a step backwards, clutching his grip on his sword.
He was prepared to use it, but his heartbeat told him how afraid he was.
Never had he seen something like it.
So this is a nightmare!
With the distance closed, the true height of the beast was able to be seen in its entirety.
It towered over him, even whilst on all fours. Its limbs were slender yet lean with muscle. Despite its humanoid anatomy, it was certain that the dark monster was nothing like them.
The beast pounced forward in an attempt to deliver a terrifying blow aimed towards Oryn's chest. Seeing the force that the punch travelled with, he knew he had no hopes of blocking it.
So instead, he dived out of the way.
The blow scraped past his shoulder, and even that did damage.
A sharp pain jolted through his arm, as he was sent tumbling onto his back.
He tried to turn onto his stomach to push himself to his feet, but he didn't have enough time.
The Eldrich beast stalked towards him. An eternal shadow of darkness.
It's over.
What can I do against such a monster?
Does death in the nightmare mean death in real life?
It didn't matter. He would find out soon.
Oryn closed his eyes, prepared to accept his fate.
But before the beast could reach him, the nightmare shattered.
His vision darkened, causing him to fade away from the Field of the Black Flowers.
When his senses returned to him, he was back on the Castonian rooftop.
He expected to see the defender standing over him with a katana pointed at his chest.
Instead, he saw two men fighting.
One of them was clearly the defender from before, though the other was...
An old man.
His head was bold, and his eyebrows furrowed giving him an angered expression. His jacket was long and black, granting him a mysterious air.
Most important was his sword.
In a two-handed grip, he held a sword larger than himself. It seemed too heavy to hold, as he dragged it on the ground beneath him, stalking towards the defender.
Is this man protecting me? Did he save my life?
The old man stepped forward and swung his blade. There was still a large distance between him and the defender, there should have been no way for him to hit his strike.
But the large blade defied logic.
As he swung it in an upward arc, a blast of orange energy emerged from the blade, sending a devastating slash travelling through the air towards the defender.
The sounds of rumbling sounded through the airs of the night, as the strike tore through the roof of the building beneath them, hurtling with speed.
The Defender wanted to dodge, but the strike was too large. He would have to block it.
He tried holding up his small katana in a defensive position, but it looked like a toy Infront of such a strike.
The arc strike crashed against his defence, yet the katana didn't slow it down for even a second.
The blast destroyed the katana and continued travelling forward, slicing the Defender in half.
The top of his body flew into the air, whilst his bottom half stayed standing where it was.
Blood sprayed everywhere as the arc strike dissipated into the air.
Thud.
The top half of the body hit the floor, and the bottom half toppled over.
Oryn could not believe the sight that he was seeing.
The old man stood there with his sword hanging loosely by his side. It still glowed orange from the strike, creating a light source as though it were the sun.
Oryn looked at the man's wrinkled skin and bald head. He must have been seventy years old.
This man... Did he really take down a Defender that easily?
His mind raced to his short time in the Field of the Black Flowers.
The Nightmare.
He felt bile rising in his throat, before throwing up his meal from earlier on the day onto the roof.
His throat burned and his head grew nauseous.
"A Nightmare will do that to you."
Oryn looked up from his sick, towards the hoarse voice that spoke to him.
The old man slowly made his way towards him, sword scraping on the floor creating a jarring sound.
He only stopped when he stood over Oryn. The old man was tall. Easily 6'6ft.
His head turned to the boy who had lost his life to Oryn earlier.
"W-why am I alive," Oryn asked, barely able to speak.
He had seen the black beast galloping towards him, prepared to deliver the killing blow. He had been utterly defenceless against it.
He should no longer possess his life.
"Because I used my own nightmare to combat the Defenders. One of the ways to release a prisoner from it's confines."
Oryn had heard this before, yet it still left him with many questions that remained unanswered.
"But why? Who are you? You don't wear the uniform of the defenders, yet you possess a nightmare of your own."
The old man's expression remained unchanged as he glared into the night sky.
"The answer is simple." He said, voice uncaring. "I am a criminal."
Oryn stared at him. It made sense, some of the criminals with the highest bounties were known for having such powers.
But this old man... I've never heard of him before.
The top hundred most wanted criminals were all well-known to the public so that they could report any sightings that might be made.
Oryn had made sure to analyse the drawings of all hundred of them, and even some from next hundred as well.
He was certain he had never seen this man on there.
"You're wondering why you haven't heard of me, correct?" The man said, his gaze falling upon Oryn again as he predicted his thoughts.
Oryn nodded his head in confirmation.
The old man let out a deep sigh.
Then he gave an explanation.
"You have heard of me." He said, with certainty. "Though the picture they have drawn of me was from my youthful days. I hardly have the same appearance that I once did."
Oryn stared at the man in disbelief, trying his hardest to recognise something about his face that would stand out to him.
"..."
Then he saw it.
The night was dark, making it hard to make out the man's features.
But there was something about the man that was impossible to go unnoticed.
His eyes...
They were pink.
"I-it can't be," Oryn muttered, unable to keep the fear from his voice as his heart rate increased to a rapid pace.
"Oh, but it is." The old man replied.
It was impossible not to know who this man was. After all, he was the reason the Defenders were founded in the first place.
All of a sudden, it made sense as to how the man could dispose of the Defender so quickly. He had done it many times before.
Oryn tried his best to swallow his fear, staring at the man with a newfound respect.
"Telvar." He managed to speak. "Telvar the Untouched."
Telvar, the old man, stared at him. His pink eyes now incredibly noticeable.
This old man is Telvar the Untouched. Founder of Crime.
The only criminal with a bounty too high to put a price on.