A figure wandered the high plains of the Hollow Mountains, feet dragging slightly against dry stone and frozen moss. The sky above was pale and washed out, stretched thin by altitude and time. Below, the white fog waited far down the cliffs, still as a corpse and just as patient.
The figure walked alone.
He moved with purpose, but not eagerness. His cloak was torn and frayed at the edges. What had once been armor had long since broken off or been discarded, leaving behind dark cloth clinging to a frame shaped by hardship.
His beard had grown out, rough and dark. His face was thinner now, his eyes dull and quiet like they had been emptied and never filled again. There was strength in his arms, but no pride. There was sharpness in his eyes, but no light.
He looked older than he should have.
He reached a familiar place, a small pond nestled between two hunched stones. The water was calm and dark and just as cold as it had always been. He stood there for a while, looking at the reflection that stared back.
He did not recognize the man in the water.
There were too many scars. Too much silence in the way he held himself. Time had pressed against him without kindness. Days blurred. Nights passed without memory. Somewhere along the line, he stopped trying to count them.
The sigil was still there. Just barely visible over his shoulder. A snake devouring itself. It pulsed when the water touched it, faint and warm. It made his back ache when he tried to sleep.
He found out about the Luneborne Sigil's physical manifestation a long time ago when he first caught sight of it as a reflection on the water while bathing. Since then, he had always tried to avoid looking at it.
It was just a tattoo this entire time.
He lifted his hand to his face and stared at the scars. His fingers were calloused. Nails chipped. His body no longer moved with hesitation. Every joint and muscle now worked in patterns of instinct and violence.
He had lost track of the first thousand kills. Somewhere around three thousand, he stopped crying. By six thousand, he no longer saw their faces at all. At eight thousand, his hands stopped shaking after each fight. Now, at nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine, he no longer felt fear.
His pure skill, cunning, and bloodlust have all increased drastically to the point where he probably reached the pinnacle of each category.
But obviously, no matter how skilled you are, you can't win against a creature up to three ranks above you in both Class and Rank, at least not naturally.
Turns out, when the spell said that he could not escape the nightmare realm even upon death,
It wasn't lying.
This entire time, he had died over and over and over again, simply winning due to pure persistence.
He may have never truly died, but he definitely felt the pain.
It was unbearable.
He turned away from the water. Somewhere behind the stone ridge, he heard something coming. Wings beating the air like war drums. Too heavy to be Hollow Carrion, his main source of kills.
He sat down on a rock and waited.
He summoned the Obsidian Prowler.
The Crown of Thorns was probably the only thing keeping his sanity together. He already felt insane, but he knew true insanity was something of a completely different nature.
Although, he had a feeling he was starting to finally understand the latter part of the attribute description for the Crown of Thorns now.
"Yet, there are times when surrendering to a destined end is wiser than suffering through the weight of survival."
He watched the clouds. Watched the way they shifted across the peaks.
It was supposed to be over soon. Just one more. That was all the Blood Cage needed. One more and the chains would break.
One more till he was done with this never-ending nightmare.
The sound grew louder.
He stood. The cold bit into his bones. The sky darkened slightly, a shape blotting out the light.
His eyes narrowed.
There was only one monster, as he expected.
But it was large.
Claws scraped against ice. Wings stretched wide. The air trembled.
He drew the sturdy dagger.
Wow, I've been stuck here for god knows how long, but I've never seen a literal dragon before out of all things...
Damien's final fight had come.