Shadow Slave: Riftwalker

Aeona dreamt of an abandoned castle.

Jagged edges, crumbled stone, vines drooping off bricks from top to bottom. The enormous building bathed in crimson moonlight, dwarfing other structures. That was, apart from three carefully sculpted alloy statues which stood sternly.

All three of these statues seemed to represent something, and this something was far more than philosophy, it was more like three separate paths. 

One of the metallic figures was 'painted' in a pale gold, similar to what one would describe as 'Holy'. It had an oddly levitating illusory halo which burnt with a fiery temper. This flame, however, was anything but ordinary. Aeona felt like she sinned just by looking at it.

To the left of 'Holy' was one which—at first glance—seemed cursed. This one was painted lavender, with black dots scattered across, almost as if the purplish paint was scraped off to reveal the onyx black corruption below. 

To the right of both 'Holy' and 'Cursed' was one which felt overshadowed by the other two. It was simple, gray-scaled, and wore the eyes of a seasoned warrior. If Holy were the hero, and Cursed were the villain, 'Warrior' felt like an ally, strong, but not a main force like the other two. 

Luckily or unluckily, words like hero and villain didn't exist in this cruel nightmarish world. There were no clear-cut colors, just a bunch of different shades. 

The precisely carved statues lay just before the entrance of a black and Crumbled Palace. On the contrary, behind it was a colosseum, this one in pristine shape. It had sixteen corners, each with a gate blocking off a small room.

The walls and pillars sat as if newly polished and carefully cleaned. In the center was a massive circular formation with grounded wood as the floor. There also seemed to be gravel scattered across, perhaps for grip.

Just as quickly as the landmarks appeared, they rewinded with time. The crimson sun set and rose thousands—no, tens of thousands of times.

The jagged landscape gradually grew unspoiled, fresher than ever and well-kept.

Time slowed, then stopped, and then resumed at its usual pace. 

[Aspirant! Welcome to the Nightmare Spell. Prepare for your first trial…]

Push. Shove. Grab.

'What the...?'

Aeona felt a dull yet excruciating sharp pain in her side, glancing down, she noticed a blade at her waist. While it wasn't penetrating her skin, the sharp edge was certainly close.

'Ah.'

An unwavering sweep of heat blasted onto her skin, bringing out sweat and scattering it across her body. While her neighborhood wasn't a stranger to heatwaves, wasn't this a little...

"Get a move on!" Aeona was once again pushed forwards. She, and three men who looked to be in their thirties were approaching a large door. It was rotted from top to bottom, and compared to the rest of the castle, was practically asking to be destroyed.

The hallway they were walking through—apart from the shoddy door—was... definitely fit for royalty, or at least to her standards it was.

As one of the three guards grasped the knob for the door, she came to a realization. She couldn't speak! She was gagged! Only then did Aeona begin choking on her spit and gasping for fresh air.

Even her clothing was rough, they were like old rags! Or at least generations upon generations of hand-me-downs. 

No matter how you judged it, this situation looked bad. She wasn't even able to fight back, it was like the very ability to move her muscles in protest was sealed.

'Is this some restriction Aspect...? Oh shit! Aspect!'

She furrowed her eyebrows and decided to summon her runes. From what she heard online, doing so was pretty much a gut reaction, as the spell displayed what one willed it to. Knowing this, she thought of the word "System", "Status", and "Spell", and as she expected, her general information appeared. 

—

—

Name: Aeona.

True Name: —

Rank: Aspirant.

Soul Core: Dormant.

Memories: —

Echoes: —

Attributes: [Fortune's Curse], [Mark of Divinity], [Hourglass's Heir].

Aspect: [Battle Maiden]

Aspect Description: [Woman of war.]

'Curses… why is it so short!'

She blinked a few times but ultimately had to accept that it wouldn't change, not even if she took a closer look. 

"Agh!"

As she was about to look deeper into her attributes, her back was kicked by a boot

And her face landed in a pit of gravel and dust. She coughed a few times, specks of dirt making it to the back of her throat.

While it was painful, she also felt a familiar taste of freedom, as the gag from before glamorously vanished. Perhaps it had been taken off, but she was preoccupied with her status info. 

Snapping back to reality, she pushed herself off the ground and slowly rose from the floor. Around her were shouts, conversations, and laughing. She even noticed people betting currency and other tradable materials. 

Everything around her was happening at intense speeds, she felt vastly overstimulated, but unfortunately the barrage of information wasn't finished just yet.

"Get to your station, Pig!" The one who kicked her demanded, pointing a glowing finger at her face. 

It was... an Aspect? Whatever it was, it seemed dangerous enough to end her life, so she nodded with obedience.

"A… Ah." She took a glance left and right and figured that this 'station' was the only area she was able to move towards, and so she moved.

As she stepped, the situation dawned on her. She was in the Pristine Colosseum, the one she had seen before the Nightmare started. And she was the cattle being used for entertainment. 

'Ahh! Never mind, shut your thoughts off for a moment, idiot!'

...

While assessing her surroundings was crucial... making faulty assessments, especially because of panic is often worse than making none at all. She could breathe. She could take a moment of silence and shut her eyes... She had to be smart, and this was the smarter decision.

...

Sensory overloads have always been difficult for Aeona. She knew that becoming an Awakened would help—if not eliminate the issue entirely. Unfortunately... even though she was bearer of the Spell now, she was still dormant, so she needed some time for adjustment.

Having said that, she slowly lowered her eyelids and sat down...

Inhale...

...

Exhale...

...

Before she could focus on the First Nightmare, she needed a change of pace. At least some semblance of time to process the information. It was like sleeping after a long day, at school, you would listen to your teachers and understand; while at night, you would process and store what you learned.

Remaining sweat trickled down her already drenched skin, so she swiped off the dust, sand, gravel, and dirt that stuck to her face, before opening her eyes once again and continuing her analysis.

'Okay... so there is a castle, three statues, and a colosseum. The castle is where I came from, and the colosseum is where I am now. In the crowd, there is a... concerning amount of people, and from what I can tell, fifteen other cells are around me with figures within...' She looked upwards, noticing a floating platform around twenty-five feet above the center of the... 'arena'. 'That will probably be explained later...'

She inferred this to be some gathering or area of entertainment, and from historical assumptions, likely a battleground where slaves fought to satisfy the rich. Seeing that she was behind bars, it was safe to assume that she was such one of the 'contestants'.

Now, her brother told her to find the test that the trial was putting her through, but it seemed pretty obvious to her. She had to fight others, not lose, then win whatever 'this' was. While she understood that some Nightmares were easier than others, there was also no such thing as an effort-free nightmare. 

This meant that either the opponents would be tough, or there would be other secret horrors. So, in order to prepare for such horrors, she needed to know what tools she had at her disposal.

Looking down, she summoned her runes once again and imagined her Attributes.

[Fortune's Curse] Attribute Description: "In the gamble of chances, you are one of the fortunate. On the flip side, challenges grow more daunting."

'Ah... Is this good or bad?' She thought for a moment, 'I'll be pessimistic and assume it's bad...'

After all, pessimism would prepare her for the worst scenario, optimism would prepare her for the best. Either way, considering the "challenges grow more daunting" part, it would likely prove as a nuisance until she got stronger.

'Curses, I have nothing to get lucky about anyways. Perhaps memories? Ah whatever, I'm probably tight on time...'

Suddenly a man dropped onto a platform in the center of the Pristine Colosseum. The landing blew wind and dust around beneath him, with an impactful shake.

'Yeah...! Definitely tight on time!'

[Mark of Divinity] Attribute Description: "You bear a faint scent of divinity, as though someone briefly touched by it once, a long time ago."

It was neat, but she was rushing.

[Hourglass's Heir] Attribute Description: "The value of time seeps through the river of your essence, marking you as its beholder."

'Damn it all, that sounds useful, but I can't control my essence!'

Aeona's previous calm self almost faltered as she focused back on the figure in the middle.

'I-Is that… An Ascended...!?' Her face paled, but before she could even utter a complaint...

"Welcome folks and folkmaidens! I'm so glad to have you on this fine day!" A male's voice echoed through the area, as if boosted by a memory, or perhaps some other means. "Today, for this week's spectacle, we have some special guests! As you all have been waiting for, this is a special event!

"In each of the 16 corners stands a powerful and unique warrior! Each of which to become gladiators for your greed! Which one will you bet on!? Which will triumph!? Which will announce their superiority!? And lastly, which will fail to rise to such an occasion!?

"In this tournament of four stages, we will view and watch as glory is fulfilled!"

Suddenly the crowd erupted into chants, standing ovations, and applauds. "Glory! Glory! Glory!" While 'Glory' seemed relatively normal, Aeona immediately felt a shiver down her spine. It was as if they were some creepy cultists. Well, they were imprisoning sixteen people for an—assumed—series of death battles so she wouldn't put it past them.

'A one against one tournament, which continues for four periods until the final.' She walked up to the gate and glanced at the floor.

There was a rune carved into a stone plate which seemed conveniently translated by the spell.

[9]

"I'm number nine…" She muttered as the man picked up where he left off. He seemed to be waiting patiently for their cheers to end, usually announcers would quiet the crowd down themselves, but perhaps he enjoyed hearing it.

"Hahaha! There is no need to get excited quite yet! As we haven't even revealed the rules!

"Each battle will be held for 5 minutes! Within these 5 minutes, the two chosen gladiators will brawl to be the last one standing!

"If one is not decided after such time, they will be forced back into their stations and their match will resume after the other scheduled matches for that period!

"If you aren't aware, the periods are: Round One, Quarterfinals, Semifinals, and Finals!

"We will be going in numerical order, which means number one will fight number two, number three will fight number four, and so forth! Is that understood, ladies and gentlemen?"

Claps and mannerisms of understanding exploded from the spectators, and they continued their faithful chant. "Glory! Glory! Glory!"

The Ascended spoke again, but this time towards the sixteen fighters. "Gladiators, is that understood?" This time, his voice was distant, as if spoken with true disgust.

Not a soul responded, but the man expected that, and quite frankly didn't want one. The 'gladiators' opinions had no value after all. 

Most of them would die anyways...

"Now! Without further ado, let's begin round one!"

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