Milo entered the police station with his father. He hadn't seen one since he was seven. The reinforced walls and barely hidden turrets were a testament to its purpose, thick concrete swallowing sound and the mounted weapons tracking in slow, deliberate arcs above.
'If I do have the Nightmare Spell... those things might finish me off.'
Milo shuddered at the thought. Couldn't the Nightmare Spell have waited until he was sixteen? At least then he would be in the most likely to contract the Nightmare Spell range. Perhaps it was being petty, was that even possible?
Milo walked to the nearest officer, his father was the one to explain the situation. The officer nodded and spoke into his radio.
"We have a Code Green."
Milo was escorted to a reinforced vault room. He was given a full rundown on the Nightmare Spell, what to expect, and what to do. Milo rather understood most of it. Though for some reason the officer kept emphasizing one particular point.
"The people in the Nightmare aren't real, do not hesitate to kill them."
Wouldn't it be just like killing NPCs in a video game? Or stabbing through his friends in the Dreamscape. It wasn't exactly a new experience to Milo.
He felt his eyelids flutter. The last thing he remembered was the heavy vault door grinding open before he passed out.
[Aspirant! Welcome to the Nightmare Spell. Prepare for your First Trial…]
Milo dreamt of an overgrown plain.
The remnants of life and what seemed like a war lay half-swallowed by tall grass. Suits of armor had grass and vines growing in between the seams and gaps, rust biting into their edges. The other notable thing was the static metal-like bodies in the grass. They didn't look dead or destroyed, but simply... disabled? Constructs were nothing new within both the Waking World and Dream Realm, but to think he would have some in his First Nightmare.
On the left of his view were the remains of a toppled fortress, destroyed battlements and gates splattered with what seemed to be old blood, dark stains baked into stone. On the right was the opposing force's camp, nearly eight kilometers away from the fortress. It was hastily put together, and the tents were wildly varied in their material and size, canvas beside stitched hides and patchwork cloth.
Standing above it was a bright red sun, raining down with authority and missing nothing with its bright gaze. Then it turned into a palely lit night, which then turned into day again. Time reversed in Milo's very eyes, the sky rolling backward like spilled ink returning to its bottle. He saw the battle in reverse, saw both man and creature alike fighting against the constructs, blades un-swinging, blood lifting from earth back into wounds. Then time began to slow to a stop, right to the night before the battle.
Milo felt his stomach sink, he was sitting nervously in a small tent, a sword placed across his lap.
'Okay... lets do this.'
Milo observed his body. His right arm was still missing, however, there was something else in its place. A skeletal-like arm, the reinforced steel hydraulics laid bare, faintly humming. There was dark brown leather in three points, one at his wrist, one at his elbow, and one at his shoulder. Perhaps that's where the most important mechanics were.
Milo focused, and shimmering runes appeared in front of his face.
Name: Milo
'Of course.'
True Name: ---
Rank: Aspirant
Soul Core: Dormant
Memories: ---
Echoes: ---
Attributes: [Prosthetic] [Tempered Grip] [Rookie's Nerve]
Aspect: [Drafted Infantry]
Aspect Description: [A basic foot soldier forced into the War of Realms. Likely to become another body in a ditch full of them.]
Milo didn't know how to feel, on one hand, it wasn't bad, on the other, it felt severely... underwhelming.
Milo then took a look at his attribute descriptions. It didn't take a genius to figure out what his Innate Attribute was, I mean, come on.
[Prosthetic] Attribute Description: "Your arm is long gone, now technology replaces it... it may replace other limbs soon as well."
[Tempered Grip] Attribute Description: "A forge master's apprentice has plenty of experience hammering down steel. Your grip is strong and one forged in fire."
[Rookie's Nerve] Attribute Description: "You have never experienced war before, and thus you are keen to its every subtle movement. Some call it beginner's luck."
Milo nodded. So... in summary, [Prosthetic] was his Innate Attribute, while [Tempered Grip] and [Rookie's Nerve] were part of his Aspect. It made sense, the former two seemed slightly underwhelming, while the latter seemed to be some sort of sixth sense.
"That should come in handy." Milo muttered under his breath. He took a deep breath, that feeling in his stomach disappearing.
He raised the flap of his tent, the majority of the camp seemed to be asleep. Low snores drifted through the cool night air. Milo exited, bringing his sword just in case. He walked through the camp, it was an array of multiple different tents. Large wooden pikes made up the gates, hastily shaved grass marked the roads, the scent of trampled earth thick in the air. Milo looked down the longest road, it was about thirty-three meters in length by his estimate. That road was the main one that connected to the rest, each end had a large wooden gate with reinforced steel outlining it. Milo then heard loud thuds to his right. He raised his sword, prepared to face down a terrible creature.
And he did... but the creature was surprisingly docile? It was a large three-headed dog, fitted with reinforced leather armor and a sword in its mouth, the blade clenched carefully between powerful jaws.
'What in the world am I looking at?'
Milo stood nervously still as the three-headed dog approached him. The dog stopped and sat in front of him. Milo tilted his head, and the three heads copied him in eerie unison. Milo smirked.
"Neat trick..." His hand reached out and petted the middle dog's head. The middle dog leaned into the pets. "You're a good dog, aren't you."
The dog barked happily in response. Its tail was wagging with enough force to kick up bits of dirt.
Milo stayed and played with the dog for what seemed like an eternity. He had nearly forgotten he was in the First Nightmare for a few moments, the sounds of distant armor and shifting canvas fading away. This could very well be his final moments before he's torn apart in the upcoming battle.
'That would be one of the better final moments I suppose, playing with a big adorable three-headed dog.'
The dog suddenly pulled its head back from Milo, growling past him.
Milo raised his hands. "Woah, easy boy."
'Wait, he's not growling at me.'
His stomach screamed at him, his feet became light, and Milo kneeled to the ground. In the next moment, the air above him whistled, the dog jumped back, arrows landing where it was moments before, shafts quivering in the dirt.
Milo didn't hesitate to scream, he might have known nothing about this camp, but it was very easy to recognize they were his allies.
"Ambush!"
Milo raised his blade and retreated to the side of the dog. It stepped in front of him, growling at the direction the arrows came from. Soldiers of all kinds scurried from their tents. Large ogres, demi-humans, regular humans. Very few were prepared with their armor, others were struggling to equip it, buckles clanking in frantic rhythm. Milo had been put in the body of an anxious soldier who was likely about to sleep with his armor on.
'Lucky guy, really.'
Milo's eyes peered at everything they could. Multiple figures hopped over the gates and landed with mechanical grace. Milo noticed they were the very same constructs he saw powered down in the fields. The same ones who had battered the side he was on now. One approached him, two curved blades in its hands.
Milo quickly switched to a half-sword grip. Slashes wouldn't do a damn thing to that metal. The construct moved forward, its blades moving in an X shape directly across his chest. Milo barely dodged, he swung, the pommel of his sword striking the construct in the head. The construct reeled back slightly, only to recover and deliver more slashes to Milo.
Milo blocked as best he could, but he was getting overwhelmed. The construct caught his arm in a hold.
'Damnit!'
The construct raised its blade, poised to slash Milo's head off, and Milo raised his right arm.
The clash between the two made a loud clang, the curved blade bouncing back. The construct seemed stunned for a moment, as if it hadn't anticipated this. Milo used this to his advantage, he threw a large overhand strike at the construct. He then tripped its legs.
It lay on the ground, already attempting to recover.
'Too late.'
Milo raised the pommel and brought it down upon the construct's head. Then he did it again, and again, and again, metal denting under repeated blows.
He didn't stop until a voice interrupted him.
[You have slain a Dormant Beast, Metal Shell]
[You have received a Memory, Admin's Card.]
Milo raised his eyebrow and summoned the runes that described the Memory.
Memory: Admin's Card
Rank: Dormant
Type: Tool
Memory Description: [This card was created as a failsafe for Carmen in case he found himself in unlikely events]
Milo's confusion only grew. Who was Carmen? Why was a keycard a failsafe? What in the world could an unlikely event be like for this guy?
Milo shook his head, he could figure it out later. He looked ahead, the majority of the camp had defeated the constructs. They seemed to hold themselves pretty well, what in the world had caused them to start losing so badly?
A hand landed on his shoulder, and Milo turned around. Standing behind him was a tall woman with a large scar running down her face, pale against sun-darkened skin. She was wearing bulky plate armor and what wasn't covered by steel was covered by chainmail and leather. A helmet rested at her side, on her back was a gigantic sword Milo couldn't dream of lifting.
"Hello there, I see you took good care of my pet." The woman pointed forward.
Milo turned and looked at what she was pointing at. It was the three-headed dog, it had multiple constructs pierced along the length of its sword, metal bodies hanging like grisly ornaments. He then looked back at the supposed owner.
'I see the correlation.'
"Ah, actually, your pet saved my life. I would've had no idea there was an enemy if it hadn't alerted me."
The tall woman laughed boisterously.
"She's helpful like that." She extended her hand. "I'm Corinne, and you are."
Milo shook her hand with his prosthetic. "I'm Milo. I must say you looked like quite the experienced fighter, any tips for me?"
Corinne pondered for a few moments, then tilted her head.
"If you're already on the front lines, then I can't help you. Especially since we're besieging Carmen's many fortresses."
"Ah yeah, remind me, who exactly is he?"
Corinne gave Milo a confused look. "Ah, you must really be green if you haven't heard about him. Some genius inventor who created these fortresses that are run solely by constructs. All the traces we've found of him lead to here. So perhaps we'll finally catch the slimy bastard."
Milo nodded, so Carmen was the creator of the constructs and the enemy. The keycard might come in handy then.
"Either way, you should prepare to head off to battle, I doubt the commander is going to let this attack stand like that."
Milo raised an eyebrow.
"Matter of fact, there he is."
Milo turned around and looked at a gorgeous man. His hair was golden and flowed to his shoulders, catching the torchlight like spun silk. This was perhaps the most beautiful man he had seen in person. In fact he gave off the same aura and radiance as that Awakened that saved his life did. Well, she was actually an Ascended. Milo had learned this after checking a news article to see if he was on the news.
He was the only casualty outside of Instructor Franco. The Awakened that was at the school and Soul Reaper Jet as she's called were both relatively nearby, allowing the gate to be contained. Milo was noted as "bravely buying students time to escape."
Milo knew who had spread that story, Juno, that big beautiful bastard. He would have to thank him for all the fame and popularity he would have with the ladies when he got back.
The Ascended looked around, then shouted, his voice carrying effortlessly over the clamor of the camp.
"To me, my men, the Lofty Wolves will take over that vile man's fortress! We will capture him, and we will hang him where he stands!"