As dawn began to head to the Temple, he thought, *That was surprisingly easy… too easy. It felt almost… unnatural. Is the universe mocking me with this brief reprieve, only to rip it away when I need it most?* He sighed, his chest tightening. *No. I can't think like that. I can't afford to.*
The road stretched out before him, but his thoughts veered inward, plunging into turmoil. *Aaron…* His name echoed like a haunting refrain in his mind. He stopped in his tracks, his pulse quickening. *I need to know. I need to understand why.*
His steps carried him toward a villager, and his voice, though calm on the surface, carried a note of desperation. "Hey, sir, I wanted to ask—do you, by chance, know of anyone known as Aaron of the Nine?"
The villager's face contorted with disbelief, and for a moment, dawn wanted to take back the question, to run away from the answer. "My lord… you surely jest. Do you truly not know?"
"I'm not joking. I really don't know," dawn said, feeling an unfamiliar vulnerability creep into his voice. He hated it.
"I see," the villager said, his shock palpable. "Then allow me to enlighten you."
The man's voice grew reverent, almost trembling with awe. "Aaron of the Nine—or the Dawn Breaker—is not merely a man. He is legend. A mortal who defied fate itself. Aaron fought against corruption—the festering blight that turns men into beasts, that devours the very essence of humanity. For seven unrelenting days and seven endless nights, he battled the darkness, unyielding even as his body and soul bore its scars."
The villager's eyes glistened as he spoke, his words heavy with reverence. "You must understand, my lord, that this was not a mere skirmish. Corruption is not a foe that can be slain with steel alone—it seeps into the mind, the heart, the very soul. Yet Aaron stood firm. He did not falter. While others succumbed to despair, he became a shining beacon, a force of light in the unending night.
"And when the battle was over, when he emerged victorious, the remnants of humanity clung to his victory like a lifeline. He was the last hope of a dying race."
The villager hesitated, his voice growing softer, more somber. "But even heroes are mortal. Aaron… Aaron gave everything. His strength. His hope. His life. It is said that in his final moments, he stood atop the great peak, his sword raised high, as though challenging the heavens themselves. And then… he fell. His death was not a defeat, my lord—it was a sacrifice. A sacrifice that bought us what little time we have left."
Dawn's chest tightened, the words sinking into him like iron weights. Aaron's death hung over him, both a beacon of light and a shroud of darkness. *He gave everything. And yet, I am here. Why?*
"Haha, I see," he said, forcing a hollow laugh. But beneath the surface, his thoughts churned violently. *Why? Why him? Why now? And why would someone like him entrust his legacy to someone like me?*
He turned away from the villager, his mind spiraling into a tempest of doubt and fear. The road to the Temple loomed ahead, but his steps faltered under the weight of his thoughts.
*I've killed. Today, I killed.* The memory of blood on his hands resurfaced, sharp and vivid, refusing to be buried. *In this world, killing is common. Expected. And yet… it felt wrong. How is it that something so ordinary could tear at my soul?*
His chest ached, his breaths shallow. *Death… why does it feel so common, yet so profound? Why is it both grotesque and… sacred? How can something so final hold such weight?*
He stumbled, his knees threatening to give out as a whisper of understanding brushed against his mind. *It's not fear. It's acceptance. Death is not to be feared—it's to be…* The thought fractured, slipping from his grasp as though the universe itself denied him clarity.
He clenched his fists, frustration boiling over. *Why? Why won't it let me finish this thought? What am I not meant to know?*
The Temple came into view, its towering marble doors a silent witness to his unraveling mind. He pushed them open with trembling hands and stepped inside, the cold air pressing against his skin like a judgment. He crossed the marble floor, his footsteps echoing in the hollow expanse.
"With the information I have, I can definitely make a plan," he muttered, but the words rang hollow. *No. It's not just about the plan. It's about what I must become to carry it out.*
He sat at the desk, the parchment before him a lifeless reminder of his responsibility. His thoughts swirled into a desperate scheme. *It only comes out at night, but the amulet can simulate nighttime. If I can trick it into thinking it's night during the day… yes, I can lure it out. I'll lead it here, to the Temple. Nightmares can't enter the Temple.*
The plan solidified in his mind, a fragile beacon in the chaos. But as he spoke it aloud, a shiver crawled down his spine. *I'll use myself as bait. I'll be the one to face it.*
He swallowed hard, the weight of his choice settling over him like a shroud. *Why do I feel compelled to do this alone? Is it pride? Guilt? Or something deeper?* He closed his eyes, exhaling sharply. *I can't involve them. I can't let them die because of me.*
"I'm not like Sunny," he said aloud, his voice firm but brittle. "He doesn't care what happens as long as he survives. But I do. I care. I'll protect these people, even if it means—" His voice faltered. He didn't finish the thought. He didn't have to.
A faint smile crossed his lips, shadowed by grief. "Sunny… I hate to admit it, but I care about him more than I let on. He's saved me in ways I can't even understand, even when he didn't realize it. He's reckless, frustrating, and gloomy, but he's my friend. He's my family."
Memories of Sunny surfaced, unbidden—his smirk, his stubborn resilience, the way he always managed to survive against impossible odds. "Sunny better be alive," dawn whispered, his voice trembling. "I can't lose him. He's the last person I have, and the only one who makes me feel like I'm not completely alone."
The thought burned in his mind, a fragile flame of hope against the darkness.
But hope was dangerous. And so was he.