Mahon collapsed on his bed, his legs not able to carry him even another step. The way back home had taken ten times longer than when he had left this morning. At one point, he even thought he would never succeed and that he would have to sleep on the street.

Lying on his bed, Mahon let out a long sigh of satisfaction. Although his days looked all the same while he was training, he enjoyed the feeling of tiredness and accomplishment it brought him.

First, wake up and train. He focused on his whole body in the morning, but without proper legs or equipment, he was quite limited in his possibilities. Still, he tried to do push-ups, abs, planks and other standardized exercises. Yet, the legs always gave in first, so he was not sure if it was efficient. He kept doing them nonetheless, because creating a routine was more important.

Around lunch break, he would walk to the main street, eat something and then proceed to his specific training. Today it had been crowd surfing, but he had tried hopscotching and skipping rope before. And when he was completely exhausted, he still had to walk the long way back home. In fact, he was mostly crawling, since his legs didn’t support him anymore at the end of his workouts. Once in this state, the only thing left to do was to rest before starting again on the next morning.

Mahon closed his eyes in satisfaction and fell asleep. Slumber turned into dreams and dreams turned into Nightmare. He was so used to it that he could go from Ratho to Nightmare in less than a minute.

As always, he arrived in Nightmare at the center of the island. They didn’t know why, but it was acting as a spawning point. Whoever and wherever a human was before leaving Nightmare did not matter. The next time he came, he would be back at the center.

It had been the place of the most brutal fights as the humans struggled for years before reclaiming the spawning point as their territory. When Mahon had been a simple soldier, he had spent horrible nights just trying to survive the Amentiae waiting for them. Only once they had taken back control of the spawning point did they fight the Amentiae with real tactics and strategies. The battlefield moved to the other parts of the island and the humans had explored the hostile territory. But there was not much to see.

Nightmare was a prison designed by the Amentiae. It was a small island bordered with steep cliffs on every side, which meant no way out. Even if by miracle someone survived diving in the sea, there was no other land to swim to.

Turning around, Mahon didn’t see many other people. With the end of the Nightmare war, all the soldiers left and since most people were using no-dream pills, the nightmarish land had been deserted.

There had been some announcement after the end of the Nightmare war and Mahon had heard that sleeping with a no-dream pill was more revitalizing than to go to Nightmare. Was it a lie told by the nobles who wanted to keep their business running, or was it because Nightmare still frightened most people?

Mahon didn’t know and didn’t care. He would certainly not complain now that he had almost the whole island for himself. It was the land he was used to, and he felt more comfortable there than in Ratho. He hadn’t tried a no-dream pill yet as he hadn’t felt the need, but he would have to, one day. After all, Nightmare was his past. And Ratho, his future. But for now, he still loved the place, especially with a body he could control at perfection.

Mahon moved away from the center and soon he couldn’t see nor hear anyone else. He walked for two long hours before climbing a steep mound and reaching a flat area on its top. He sat on a nearby rock and meditated almost an hour, leaving his breathing steady and his mind relaxed.

Once done, he stood up and started his usual practice moves. Slow at first and then faster and faster. Every stance was executed without flaw. It was a demonstration of power and control to anyone who could have seen it. Alas, there was none.

Mahon immersed himself in the sensations and let his body do the work. In the middle of his session, he focused on his right arm and materialized his lance before continuing his stances. Weapon materialization was another incomprehensible mystery of Nightmare. The only sure thing was that it demanded a certain fluency in Nightmare and the size of the weapon was correlated with its wielder’s skill.

Most soldiers couldn’t invoke anything, and those who could often had but a single dagger. Mahon’s lance was two meters long, and he was wielding it with natural ease. He moved to attack patterns and spear skills from the simplest to the most complex, until he practiced the 12 Steps Of The Lance as taught by the Fada, one of the best techniques he knew of.

As he finished the last move, he stayed still for long seconds before making his weapon disappear and sat cross-legged. His breathing was loud and he felt exhausted, but his mind was calm.

His thoughts led him back to the last time he fought. The time his comrades died at his sides. The time Margot, his most loved companion, his duo, his friend, died.

Something happened on that day. He was not sure what exactly, but he had felt... different. Powerful. Complete. Free.

Since then, he had tried to reproduce the weird transformation. He had tested with the same posture, the same attacks, the same moves. He had attempted to replicate the intense emotions he had felt that day, to no avail. Mahon had spoken to no one about this event, as he was not sure himself it happened.

Was it just my broken mind?

He closed his eyes and immersed himself in the unpleasant memories.

Mahon tried to stand up on his shaking legs while the general massacred the remains of his unit. There was more blood and limbs on the ground than he ever remembered seeing, and Mahon’s brain had trouble processing it all. The screams of his slaughtered comrades did not even register in his mind. Too much had happened. He was a warrior, yes. A commander, even. He had seen his fair dose of gore. But this one. This one…

They had trained for months, preparing the different units and leading men with meticulousness. It was their hope for better nights. Nights without dying in Nightmare. It was the possible end of the Nightmare war. A war that went for far too long. They had thought they could end it this day.

The weakness of the Amentiae was obvious. Without a proper general, they were just dumb insects. Relying mainly on basic instincts, they were easy to deal with. If they succeeded in killing the head of the Amentiae, the war was practically won. But they failed.

In a flash of clarity, Mahon stopped the flow of negative thoughts. He was still here, living. Hope was not gone. Deep inside him, he knew it was already over, but…

Stop. Thinking. Act.

Mahon kneeled, and using his lance as a support he raised his body all the way up. Just in time to witness the beheaded skull of his last warrior flying through the air. A man he had known for…

STOP!

One of the injured elite guards saw him stand and approached, ready to strike. The threat to his life finished to break the vicious circle he was stuck in. As if the veil on his senses had been lifted by the imminent menace. He gripped his lance and blocked the descending sword aimed at his neck by instinct.

Still on autopilot, he pulled his weapon back, spun it to increase the lance’s velocity and stabbed. The Amentiae, surprised, stepped back. But it didn’t matter as the spear pierced his abdomen anyway.

Mahon exhaled a long breath. He felt better. He must have hurt his head when he had fallen, and now he could almost feel the fog clouding his vision disappearing.

Disregarding the disturbing phenomena, he analyzed the situation as his mind was back to his usual self. They may not have won this battle, but it was not over. They still had a Last White commander alive and all the warriors were not truly dead. They would never forget how to fight. Within a few years, they would all be back to peak conditions. They would make another attempt.

Mahon felt much calmer as he contemplated his options. The right thing to do was probably to escape and bring back useful information for their next try. But he knew it would be impossible. The general would never let him live. That simple fact greatly limited his course of actions.

In fact, it meant there was only one thing left to do. Honor his comrades with a good fight before joining them in death. Perhaps he could even hurt the general in the process, so that their next attempt would be easier. He had nothing to lose, anyway. His conscience at ease, Mahon was ready to give his best.

Seeing the energy back in the human’s eyes, the general tilted its head on the side in a strange human way. Was he surprised Mahon wanted to fight him again? It was too late to ponder on the why, as without further ado, their second battle began.

Mahon’s opening move was aimed at the general’s abdomen, known to be softer than the rest. The Amentiae deflected the spear with his left ax and sliced at him with the right one. Mahon predicted he would do so and was already sliding to the left, out of the ax’s range. Abusing his longer reach, he kept the axes away while seizing every opportunity to stab the monster.

The general did not retaliate, instead, he played with Mahon like he did with the rest of them. He had won before against this human, so what did he fear? However, the human persisted and after longer and longer exchanges, he was still fighting with the same intensity, showing no fear in front of his otherwise certain death.

Somehow, it pissed off the general and with the fight dragging on, he went on the offensive and increased his speed. But Mahon’s mind was free of any doubts and he gave it all to keep up with the accelerating pace.

At some point, the atmosphere changed as Mahon perceived the general was not playing anymore. He was serious now.

But Mahon did not mind.

Without knowing why, he felt oddly focused and powerful. Axes he had to avoid minutes ago were now deflected without thinking twice. He knew they were supposed to be faster and heavier than before, but strangely enough, they seemed less and less threatening.

As if his body was waking from a long slumber and he realized only now that the once menacing insect was, in fact, just an insect.

Mahon let himself sink deeper in the fight. He was not planning anymore. He let his body handle the rhythm. Dodge left, stab, back a step, pivot, stab higher, block the right ax, move to the blind spot, stab.

Immersed in the Flow, each action felt both slower and faster. Each decision was right on point. Each move was executed with deadly precision.

Soon Mahon had totally let go. It didn’t feel like he was fighting against hopeless odds. It didn’t feel like he was cornering a monster that had killed all his warriors by himself. He didn’t hear the general roar in frustration as the first drop of blood rolled alongside the monster’s flank.

To Mahon, it just felt like flying. As if he had been stuck to the ground for all his life and someone just gifted him wings. He was free to go where he wanted and no one could stop him. Certainly not the insignificant insect in front of him.

As Mahon was lost in these new sensations, deeper bloody wounds piled up on the general’s body. The insect was in poor shape and his attempts at reversing the situation were all wiped away by Mahon’s lance.

And soon the deadly fate that awaited the general made itself known. The conclusion now seemed so obvious it was like it had always been here, waiting. Missing but inevitable.

Like the final musical chord of a poignant melody.

Mahon’s lance found its way through the insect’s abdomen. A second stab in the thorax sang the last note of their epic battle. And with the end of the music, Mahon left his torpor state and stared, stunned, at the inconceivable result.

The general fell on his flank, as surprised as Mahon at his defeat. He opened his mouth and spat blood before weakly cackling.

“Fada... Strong.”

Mahon, aghast, didn’t even listen to him. Instead, he replayed the fight in his mind. Feeling the Flow of the battle was not new to him. This one had been strong, sure, but he had experienced the strange, powerful state many times before.

No, what surprised him was that he should not have had the speed or the strength to fight like he did. The Flow helped warriors focus and often made them do amazing things, but he knew it too well to claim it was its doing.

There had been something peculiar in this fight.

Like he was freed from… something. At the thought, Mahon realized he felt like he was missing something.

Maybe not missing something, but he was feeling different. Different, but not in an unusual way. He knew these sensations. But from where?

Then he found what bugged him. It’s like Ratho!

He was here. Physically here. He didn’t sense the usual obstacle to his presence. No more strange liquid force inhibiting his movements.

He looked at his body as if to find the culprit of this change. And he did find it.

His forearms, as well as his legs, were coated with hundreds of small green scales. They were shining a beautiful color he had never seen before in the usual paleness of Nightmare.

But he did not have the time to ponder his strange situation, as the lack of energy in his body made himself known in a rude way. He fell to the ground as the world darkened around him.

The last thing he saw before falling unconscious was the dead eyes of the general looking back at him.