Shadow Slave: Immortal Ice

"It's time," Eirwen mumbled to Andromeda -his voice horribly weak with exhaustion- as he stood up from the wooden chair he was seated on. She stood behind him without uttering a word, her expression a mixture of concern and helplessness. None of them spoke for quite some time, enjoying the magnificent gardens.

The tall trees, colourful flowers and blocks of beautifully light green grass surrounded them no matter which direction they chose to look in. Except for the road in front of Eirwen which led out of the garden of course.

Eirwen looked to his left, roses, gardenias and lilies of the valley among many other flowers sprawled on a large field.

Eirwen turned toward her with a yawn. He looked down to meet her eyes with a tired smile, his eyelids heavy and vision blurry, "Thank you Andromeda," Eirwen whispered before hugging her tightly.

Andromeda was one of the few people Eirwen truly trusted, but that was only because he knew that Andromeda would do absolutely anything for him. She belonged to him after all.

'I suppose it's easier to see your own flaws when nearing death' he thought, even though he was not scared of death. He just liked being dramatic. With the training he received it wasn't impossible to win. It was harder for him to lose than to win, he thought.

Her voice was barely audible as she responded, "I will go to the trial with you, Master." She held Eirwen just as tightly.

He shook his head with a low chuckle, "You will do anything but have some fun huh? These might be your last days," Eirwen reminded her of the harsh truth, his feet taking a couple steps back from her. Andromeda was infected too, but the issue was that she didn't receive any type of prior training, she could only watch Eirwen practice with Gale, but that was pretty much it.

On his journey back, he cast a final glance at the sprawling gardens he had just left behind. The vibrant flowers and towering trees seemed ethereal as he breathed in the sweet fragrance of the flora that surrounded him from all sides.

After a five-minute walk, Eirwen arrived at the entrance to the main garden, the gateway to a grand family mansion, Andromeda still on his side.

The mansion was an imposing structure, towering with three floors and countless rooms. It could have housed a small village if needed, 'but it is all mine, at least once my father passes away.' Eirwen thought. He couldn't wait to deal with this damn Trial and come back to read among these trees once more.

His family has gotten all the money from getting rich through other people's suffering. Wars and so on. Eirwen's Father once said that the only person who should be important in your life, should be yourself. Focus on yourself and rise even if you must use others for that.

'A horrible person, but at least I am not like him,' he thought while stepping onto a soft carpet made from some Nightmare Creature he can't identify from memory.

The lessons he went through daily included 'Nightmare Creatures hunting guide' in which his teacher lectured him on the different types of these monsters. 'If I wasn't this tired, I could actually identify these…' he reassured himself.

Inside the mansion's vast hall, he spotted his mentor and friend, Gale. His eyes reflected concern as he approached Eirwen with brisk strides and embraced him tightly.

"What is with this sudden affection?" Eirwen asked with a weak chuckle, his fatigue getting him weaker and weaker.

Gale laughed and smacked the young boy on his back unpleasantly, which made Eirwen glare at him with the little strength that he had left, "What if this is the last time I see my little friend huh?" his voice practically boomed through the room. 'How loud' Eirwen thought annoyed.

"The fact that you even consider me dying is horrible of you Gale," he rolled his eyes and pushed him away, it felt like pressing against a brick wall. This unserious man in front of Eirwen was a Master after all, one of the fastest and deadliest one at that too. His parents practically bought him after they found out their son might get infected. His father was really happy, as happy as that gloomy man could ever get. "Finally, this damned family will have a Saint," He roared like a madman. After that he invested everything in his only son and child. 'How annoying,' he groaned.

Of course, his father and mother weren't there. Even though he was their only child, they still didn't even call him to give some words of support, too busy handling stuff in Ravenheart and Bastion now that the war between the two sovereigns was about to start. On top of that Eirwen's father didn't expect anything but success from him. The insane man was probably already putting his son into his future calculations as an asset. 'How damn annoying,' he groaned again, but louder this time.

With Gale and Andromeda on his side the walk to the bedroom turned out to be much easier than he thought it would be. When they reached the doors, Eirwen didn't spare them a single look before entering and closing the doors behind himself. For some reason that reassures him. As if he was just going for another nap.

Once inside the master bedroom Eirwen slowly walked towards the bed, his silk shirt already sliding off his toned shoulders. He didn't even waste time looking around his room, as if simply going for a nap and not into a trial for his life, which he valued so much. 'Now or never. When I succeed my family will be even stronger.' Eirwen thought as chills ran down his body. With one last step he gracelessly fell onto the bed.

Not even seconds later his consciousness was already slipping away and drifting into sleep. The sleep was deep and dreamless until he got jolted awake by a strange voice.

Whether his eyes were open or closed didn't change anything since everything around Eirwen was surrounded by pitch black darkness.

"[Aspirant! Welcome to the Nightmare Spell. Prepare for your First Trial…]"

"It's finally starting," he murmured, his voice trembling with a mix of excitement and anticipation. And fear, as much as he didn't want to admit that.

In the next blink, everything in front of him shifted as if time itself was being rewound. What had once been a violent explosion now reversed itself. A giant mushroom cloud, which had expanded moments before, began pulling back in, sucked into the black and gigantic castle at the center of the chaos. Bricks that had scattered across the land rose back into the air, spinning and clicking back into place, each one finding where it belonged. The broken towers, once crumbling, slowly lifted into the sky and rejoined the main structure, as if the castle was quietly rebuilding itself, piece by piece, erasing the destruction in seconds.

Just as Eirwen tried to take a closer look at the streets, which were now filled with people instead of charred corpses, his perspective shifted yet again, and it felt like something was pulling his consciousness. He rapidly fell and in a second he was already inhabiting a new body.

Eirwen found himself in a room that bore a striking resemblance to his own. He was lying on a large bed, shirtless, just as he was when he went to sleep, but something was different – his wrists and ankles were securely chained to the bed. Panic surged through him, and his heart pounded like a relentless drumbeat. He was immobilized, bound by the iron chains.

'What a good and wonderful damn start!'

Eirwen forced himself to take deep breaths to calm down, four seconds to inhale, four seconds holding his breath and six seconds to exhale. 'It's just a Nightmare Trial c'mon you got this' he thought while scanning his surroundings with a growing sense of dread. The room was, to say the least, absolutely gigantic. The chandelier which hung down the high ceiling immediately caught his eye as he noticed its weird design.

But before he could inspect it any closer his anxiety deepened when he took in the room's ominous details. Five figures, cloaked in black robes and adorned with masks resembling demonic goats, surrounded the bed on which Eirwen was helplessly restrained on. Looking down at him like he was some prey. No matter how confident he was in his abilities, it was still scary.

"Who are these bloodydamn cultists?" he cursed inwardly, his mind racing with slight fear and confusion. His eyes flew around the room trying to find anything that could help him save himself. They immediately stopped when he looked out of a window in front of the bed.

Behind the central cultist, a colossal window stretched across an entire wall, offering a grim view of a medieval city below – a place filled with filth and despair. The streets seemingly on fire and burning as if there are riots on the streets. It was the same city that exploded when the time was rewinding. 'Where the hell am I and what is happening? Are these cultists overthrowing the rich?' Eirwen's mind went over many possibilities. Just like Gale told him, 'Try to find out what the scenario and script for your trial are as soon as possible'

The cultist closest to the window pulled the curtains shut, shrouding the room in complete darkness.

 "What the hell is this?" he exclaimed with a groan, but his words fell on deaf ears. Silence was the only response from the hooded men. If they were even men behind the masks. "Y'all deaf and mute or what?" He spat with a chuckle. Eirwen's eyes already adjusted to the darkness by now. The body Nightmare Spell provided him with was really special. Even right now, while chained up, he could feel how strong this body actually was. His body was toned and muscular, slightly buffer than his true body. 'Check the runes' he created a mental note.

When he tried to sit up, the cultists moved again, all of them. Their legs and arms moved around in a weird dance. They shot their knees up towards their waists and slapped their right chest before moving back into a standing position and repeating the same action. All in perfect sync. The sounds of their palm slapping against their chest somehow started to tire Eirwen out again, 'What the… Hell…' He thought as his thoughts slowed down.

Right before Eirwen lost consciousness the cultist closest to him moved toward him. His steps hurried yet still graceful. Once next to Eirwen the cultist delved into the depths of his robe, producing a silver dagger. "Hey hey hold on big boy" Eirwen stammered, 'I just got here and didn't even have the chance to fight what the hell?! I thought the spell was fair!' He cursed inwardly. But against his fears the cultist didn't plunge the dagger into his throat. No, instead, he strangely cut his own wrist. Crimson blood flowed out of it like a miniature waterfall.

For some reason the blood didn't seem to be thick, instead it resembled crimson coloured water instead. "What are you doing…?" Eirwen asked as his right eyebrow unconsciously arched up.

After a moment a feeling of disgust hit him as the cultist moved his slit wrist onto his bare torso and started drawing something on his pale skin. This wet and cold liquid painted Eirwen's chest and abs, this whole weird ritual sent shivers down his body. Meanwhile the other four cultists kept up with their weird dance, one of them even started to chant weird words that made no sense to Eirwen whatsoever.

The one painting on Eirwen's skin started to chant along as Eirwen kept struggling against the chains. He could feel them resisting, but not as much as he expected. They were only mundane. In the meantime, the painting started to take a shape, it looked like a pentagram which was used to summon 'demons' or 'spirits' in the Waking World.

"May the Lord take you…" he heard a whisper in a strange language coming from the wannabe painter. He shook his wrist to drop off any blood droplets before moving his blood-soaked hand towards Eirwen long dirty blonde hair, bathing them in blood too.

"What Lord you goddamn weirdo," Eirwen demand answers from him, but in vain, his jailor only shook his head as if disappointed.

Suddenly Eirwen's body froze when the hooded man's other hand clutched the ominous blade yet again and descended towards his vulnerable abdomen. He watched in paralyzed horror as the knife pierced flesh. In an agonizing instant, the knife tore through Eirwen's flesh, and he was engulfed in a scalding, blinding pain. His vision went dark, and he could only see bright stars in the vast darkness. Every nerve screamed while the blade sliced through skin, muscle, and organ. His eyes widened in horror as he looked down at his own stomach which opened like gates, the organs inside slipping out on the open edges. Before Eirwen could die or pass out, the four remaining cultists rushed towards him as well and sunk their knifes into whatever undamaged place was left on his torso. Their free hands grasped his wrists and ankles so he couldn't move as they stabbed him again and again and again and again and again and again…

A blood-curdling scream erupted from his lips before he died from getting gutted alive.