After he discovered the deadly hollow, after he witnessed the creature that dwelled among the fungi and moss, Vance felt that Thurvik was smiling upon him. It was a funny thought—a remnant of deep-set religious thinking. But it indeed seemed as though Chaos had made everything he needed available. A killer couldn’t have asked for more. It was time to act, time to make use of this opportunity. He gave Timathor new orders—wait in this area; remain hidden from all creatures; prepare for battle. When it seemed that little Timathor had understood, he gave him the goblin salute. The next time we meet, we attack together and retreat together. The goblin saluted his chief with a strong sense of commitment and then climbed into the foliage.

Once Timathor was gone, Vance turned to examine the hollow one last time. It’s so quiet and peaceful now. No signs of the predator or the prey. The corpse that he had thrown inside the hollow had already lost character; there were only human bones—fragmented, scattered, and wiped clean of blood. And soon you will feed some more. He smiled at the hidden predator and then walked away at a fast pace. It was almost dawn, and he didn’t want to lose his way back into Fort Hamadryad. He raced on the tree roots, hurried past the now empty Foxhole, and climbed the ladder into the fort dungeon. The guards let him pass into the main section. And from there he found his way back to his room, where he sat down for a moment’s rest and marked the deadly hollow on his map.

That was one long night. He yawned and put the map away. His luxurious bed looked exceptionally inviting at this hour, but he resisted the urge to sleep. I’ll get some rest later. I still have one more thing to do before sunrise. He wasn’t sure when the Cromish Dawn would leave the fort, so there was no time to lose—he had to proceed with his plans. If I want everything to work right, Maxwell must not feel a moment’s rest. He put down his bag and belongings. I have to pay him a visit before he wakes up … but I can’t be seen by anyone. He headed to the balcony. From a daunting height, he looked down and saw the bright world lit by the orbs of the Saturn Tunnel. The light was strong enough to blind anyone who looked up. It worked to his advantage, and he stepped up onto the balcony rail.

After a moment of careful calculation, he made an unexpected leap. A human could not have made such a jump with such ease, but he had no trouble landing onto the neighboring balcony. I’m glad I could still count on you. The parasitic feet gave him enough range for the stunt and, more importantly, enough control to make as little noise as possible. No one heard him take off; no one heard him touch the ground. After he landed on the neighboring balcony, he pushed its door ajar. Then he cast a spying glance into the dark room. So … Fairuz is staying in this one. He recognized her presence from her dress, which hung on a coat rack. And since Kathi is staying in the room on the other side, I should find Maxwell up ahead. He closed the balcony door without making a sound. Then he followed with his second leap and landed right outside the next room.

He peeked inside it, and just as he had predicted, he found his unsuspecting target. Sleeping without a care in the world. It seemed that the Paladin had had a fun and self-indulgent evening, which left him in a state bordering a coma. The room was not a hospital ward, however, but a pigsty—armor pieces scattered on the ground, food scraps and breadcrumbs covering half of the bed, and a single bottle of wine lying empty on the bedside table. I don’t think he knows about the Foxhole yet, so I guess he managed to sneak in this wine on his own. Impressive. It seemed that Fairuz’s loud scolds and reproaches were to no avail. The Paladin simply couldn’t understand why a few drinks would hurt. But is it his last bottle?

Vance stepped into the room and started searching for a hidden stash. I need him to be sad and sober for the next couple of days. After some effort and luck, he uncovered three other wine bottles that were supposed to help poor Maxwell through the days. One was hidden under the bed; the other inside his armor; the last in a small drawer in the wardrobe. It was a difficult job to extract them without making noise, but Vance was up to the challenge. He gathered all the bottles, went to the balcony, and emptied them—so that they dripped down like the sweat of the fort. After the last drop slid away, he placed the empty bottles on the bedside table and restored the room to its original state. Then he finally turned toward the sleeping Paladin.

Maxwell was snoring as if to advertise his vulnerability. He was also naked, without armor or weapons within reach. A stab or two would have sufficed to end his life, or perhaps Vance could even suffocate him with a heavy pillow. It was easy to imagine such simple scenarios but hard to play them out without consequences. Should a brief list of the complications follow? The locked door that limited the number of suspects, the escape route that crossed the balcony of cross Fairuz, the high-rising fort that hindered a fast escape. It would be rash to murder the Paladin in his sleep, and Vance had no such intention. A “natural death” was still in the making. He was here only to bring a prophetic dream.

Dipteran Terror.

Vance activated his Skill, and not a mere second later, the ear-deafening buzz of Honeydew Flies erupted in the room—a sound that only he could hear. His body became shrouded in other-wordly darkness, its somber color like the dusk of Middlerift. Then the red eye of a Honeydew Fly opened on his forehead. It seemed as though his skin had parted to reveal it, and from its crimson glow, there came forth a certain magnetism that hypnotized and charmed and hazed the mortal world. The drone of the flies grew louder and louder, despotic and oppressive, commanding and coercive. Earthgate Forest, Fort Hamadryad, the pigsty that Maxwell called a room—everything began to melt as if it were a thin layer of wallpaper, and a new warped dimension presented itself.

Status Alert

You have kidnapped your enemy to the Shores of Ephialtes.

You transform into the creature they fear the most.

Ephialtes' Whisper

Pride filling the breast.

Memories, like an endless blight.

A shield failing the test.

Damsels, laughing at a prone knight.

Ephialtes' Whisper The nightmare begins.

Maxwell opened his eyes and stood up in the landscape of a dream. “Where am I? Hello? What is this place?” The Paladin looked around him like a lost child. He was standing on gray sands on the shore of a black river. The sky was a dull white—a strange contrast that created a world without bounds, a limitless expanse that alienated and disoriented him. The wind was howling. And the gusts carried black capes into the air. “I was sleeping at the fort … I’m supposed to be in my room.” Suddenly, from among the long flowing capes, there came a blinding shine. “What’s going on? Amirani … This must be a joke of some sort!” Before Maxwell could even turn to run, pieces of armor emerged from among the capes and flew toward him from the sky.

He froze in stupor as they struck him like bullets and attached themselves to his body. A helmet fixed itself to his head, gauntlets to his arms, boots to his feet. The breastplate and cuisses followed, and everything was secured to his body with locks. The burden was so heavy that he felt he would soon sink into the sand beneath his feet. His heart beat fast; his armpits sweat buckets; his eyes searched for any refuge. But instead of a refuge he saw a bloodred phantom against the white sky. “No! no! Stay away!” He shouted, as his feet began to sink deeper and deeper into the sand. “I won’t say it again! Stay away from me!” he shouted more frantically, and fell to his knees as the sand receded beneath him.

The phantom, however, approached. And the more it did, the more it gained shape and form. Eventually, it sent chills down his spine. It was neither a raging dragon, nor a rampaging monster, nor an evil god. No. Maxwell shivered before a single female dwarf. She had a red braid and a stern expression on her sooted face. Crimson armor coated her stout body. In her right hand, she carried a war hammer, and in her left, she had a hostage caught by the hair. She was dragging this one hostage behind her and advancing toward him at an industrious pace. And when she stood before him, she raised the captive’s head for him to see.

“Kathi!” Maxwell blurted as soon as he saw the face. He wanted to reach for her. He wanted to help her. But his feet continued to sink deeper into the sand. His struggle was only hastening his doom, and the treacherous ground began to absorb his waist. “Kathi! What’s happening? When did the dwarves attack?”

“God ordered you to protect us!” Kathi said through tears.

“I … I …” Maxwell shivered. “How did this happen?”

“You abandoned us! Left us to die!”

“Kathi, I don’t understand … I was asleep … and when I woke up, I …”

“You’re a pathetic excuse for a man!”

Not a second after Kathi shouted these words, the female dwarf swung her hammer and crushed her head. It was a gory execution. Fragments of the skull scattered, and the blood splattered on Maxwell’s face as he stared in shock.

“You’re a disgrace, Maxwell,” the mouth of the crushed head said—bloody tongue twisting, broken teeth clattering, deformed lips tilting. “Your fathers and forefathers were real heroes. They were real men who could hunt monsters and protect villages. But you’re nothing but a meat shield. Why did you leave your village? Why did you join the Guild? Wasn’t one failure enough?”

The female dwarf stepped forward and started to attack him ruthlessly. She hammered him on his armor pieces—the metal that was fixed to his body with locks. He felt the pain of the hits but continued to bide his time. He was hoping for a way out; he was confident that God could not abandon him in such a way.

“You’re willing to sacrifice your life for others,” the mouth of the crushed head continued. “Because you know your life has no worth. Because you know you’re nothing but a fraud.”

The hammering of the dwarf became stronger.

“You used me and Fairuz to climb to fame.”

“Stop! Please!”

“You tricked us into electing you our leader.”

“Enough!”

“You bribed that priest to convince us that we needed you.”

“I said enough!”

“And you started calling yourself our protector.”

“I … I …”

“Our leader. Our great leader.”

“I …”

“Today you become our martyr.”

Maxwell grew silent and stopped struggling.

The female dwarf raised her hammer high toward the sky and struck down with the force of a thousand strikes. The armor covering Maxwell’s body finally cracked and shattered into pieces. He was free, but the force of the hammer sent him into the darkness of the earth. Through the gray sand, he fell and fell. He gave up; he surrendered; he resisted no more. His body continued to sink into the depths, with his heart and brain paralyzed, until he finally reached the solid surface that was his grave. There he lay, and next to him the crushed head rolled and repeated, “Our great leader. Our great martyr.” Forever and ever.

Ephialtes' Whisper The nightmare ends.

The alienating landscape disappeared without a trace, and the room in Fort Hamadryad—the little pigsty—reconstructed itself out of the gray sand.

Status Alert

You have returned to the Lesser Realms.

The damage you dealt in the nightmare has been converted into magical damage.

The image of the female dwarf faded away, and instead of it, Vance appeared standing at the bedside. He looked at his victim: Maxwell had not only cried in his sleep but also wet his bed. I don’t see his self-confidence recovering from this one. There was also a puddle of sweat on the pillow, and although Maxwell had not woken up, he had the most agonized expression on his face.

When Dipteran Terror was used on a sleeping target, its psychological effects tended to be stronger, and the target always confused it with a real nightmare. Then, because sleeping was a method of healing, the target gradually returned to full health, and no traces remained of an attack. Vance had discovered this exploit during his spring months of experimentation, and this was its first real application. He’ll wake up to the worst day of his life, but that’s only the start.