Episode 12 – The Dream
Nada was in the depths of a forest.
The vegetation was thick and dark green. The sky couldn’t be seen—towering trees hid it completely beneath their leaves. And even the rays of light slipping through the gaps were swallowed up by the black clouds above, making it clear that it was nighttime. The mottled pattern of the clouds was like the scales of a dragon, eerie to behold.
Nada walked deeper into the forest, but the path was difficult.
The soil was muddy, clinging to his bare feet. Small stones dug into his soles and hurt. Countless tree roots rose out of the ground; they were hard, and if he didn’t watch his step, he could easily trip and fall. Low branches scraped against his body, becoming yet another obstacle to moving forward. Unfortunately, Nada didn’t have his crescent blade—nor even a kukri knife, let alone a small multipurpose one.
So he pushed the branches aside with his bare hands as he advanced.
The path ahead was nothing but trees.
But turning back also revealed nothing but trees.
An owl’s hoot echoed ominously through the forest. Several voices overlapped, reverberating over and over. His sense of direction started to blur. He couldn’t even tell where he was anymore.
Wanting nothing more than to get out of this forest as soon as possible, Nada hurried forward in growing panic.
But the scenery didn’t change.
The further he went, the denser the forest became, and the chorus of owls multiplied. When he tried to return to the area where the hoots had been fewer and turned around, the path he had come from was already gone—swallowed again by greenery.
The moment he looked back, a wolf’s howl sounded from his side.
Nada turned toward the sound.
Then another howl rose from a different direction.
He turned again.
By now, Nada couldn’t even tell which way he had originally been going. The owls’ cries echoed around him, and wolves howled from all directions, drawing closer.
As an adventurer, Nada could deal with one or two wolves under normal circumstances—but sadly, he had no weapon. Wolves weren’t so forgiving that you could beat them barehanded; they would first maim the arms you used as weapons, then slowly corner you until you died.
So he ran in the opposite direction of the howling.
Showing his back, he took off running.
This time, the owls’ voices grew faint, replaced by the cawing of crows—as if jeering at him.
Hearing the wolf's howls die down, Nada gradually slowed his frantic pace.
But the forest only grew deeper. A large snake slithered up a nearby tree, coiling around it as it climbed. On another tree, a huge bird hammered its beak into the trunk. On the ground, centipedes and pill bugs crawled everywhere, and the sky above was completely hidden by foliage.
Nada, wincing from the cuts on his feet caused by stones, felt the uncomfortable sensation of sweat making his clothes cling to his back. And whether because of that or something else, his throat suddenly became parched. Hunger also set in—an aching sense of starvation.
—At that moment, he heard a drip of water.
The instant the sound reached him, Nada hurried toward its source as if sliding forward. He dodged roots that tried to snag his feet and branches that barred his way, taking the shortest route he could.
Gradually, the forest opened up, revealing a wide clearing.
The sound of water grew louder.
The thought of finally quenching his thirst made his steps quicken on their own.
He burst into an open field.
It was a place with no trees at all. One could even say it was dead—what remained of trees visible at the edges of his vision were rotted through and snapped halfway up. Not a single blade of grass grew; instead, a fine carpet of sand spread across the ground. The gray sky held not a single star, only strange swirling clouds.
The source of the “water” was the sound of blood dripping from the spear held by a gargoyle standing at the center of the barren field.
Around that gargoyle lay countless corpses and a world painted in scarlet. The red slowly spread outward, creeping all the way to Nada’s feet; the warm, slimy texture seeped into his wounded soles.
Unsure of what to do, Nada slowly looked around.
Suddenly, the gargoyle’s red eyes snapped open and glared sharply at him.
Nada jolted, his whole body jumping in terror for an instant.
Then the gargoyle slowly began to move—and took to the air.
Nada immediately turned on his heel and ran. The forest behind him had already vanished; in its place stretched a vast, barren desert. The sand crumbled at the slightest touch, making it useless as footing. Nada struggled forward as if flailing, but he made barely any progress. All he managed to do was kick up sand behind him.
The gargoyle flying overhead had no need for footing. It closed in on him, and Nada watched it happen—and then—
“Ugh—!”
—Nada jolted awake.
How many times had it been now? How many times had he seen this nightmare? Lately, it has been constant. Every time he slept, he dreamed of the gargoyle, was attacked, unable to resist, and then the dream ended with him waking up.
It was still the middle of the night. Through the window, the sky held a large, bright moon.
Sweat drenched him again. Nada went to the kitchen, filled a cup with water, and drank it down in a single gulp.
After that, he returned to his bed, took the stone he kept nearby into his hand, and lay there staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought.
He couldn’t sleep. He wouldn’t sleep.
After seeing that dream, he never wanted to sleep again—not even if he was exhausted.
He was afraid. Afraid of the gargoyle. Nada knew it, and he accepted it.
Because of that fear, he’d been short on sleep. He was normally diligent about attending class, but recently he kept nodding off halfway through because he couldn’t fight the exhaustion. It hadn’t happened in the dungeon yet, but he figured it was only a matter of time. His body was at its limit. His thoughts were sluggish, and his movements were getting slow. Yesterday, even Dan commented on how pale he looked. How ridiculous was it, really? Lack of sleep because of a scary dream—like a child.
But still, Nada’s sleep time was growing shorter and shorter by the day.
If this continued, he felt he might actually die.
Sleeping in the dungeon would be certain death. Monsters would attack him while he was helpless. If he had companions, maybe someone could wake him, but now he was alone. There was no one to rely on.
So how could I break out of this situation? Clutching the stone tightly, Nada thought.
I needed to rest. My suffering came from the fact that I couldn’t.
Then… what should I do?
He squeezed whatever strength his weary mind had left to think.
If he kept having these dreams, the sleep deprivation would eventually make him commit a fatal mistake in the dungeon.
So—
“…I’ll go kill it.”
Nada whispered his vow.
A promise to himself.
The nightmare. Its cause wasn’t him leaving the party. It wasn’t Reaon announcing his dismissal. It wasn’t poor health. It wasn’t the people around him.
It was the gargoyle.
Everything started after meeting it—at least that’s what Nada believed.
Because the gargoyle appeared in every nightmare.
So, he would kill it.
If that thing died, the dream would end.
The nights tormented by terror would stop, and he could return to his normal school life.
Just imagining that made his heart feel lighter.
“…I'll go now.”
Nada set the stone beside his pillow, then sprang to his feet and began putting on the armor he kept in the corner of his room.
The dungeon operated twenty-four hours a day.
At night—or rather, Nada glanced out the window and noticed the sky already had a faint bluish tint. So it was probably dawn. Hardly any adventurers entered the dungeon this early, but the reception desk stayed open for those returning from their runs.
First, Nada equipped the armor around his waist. He checked the fastenings over and over to make sure nothing could possibly come undone, verifying every detail to ensure the fit wasn’t off.
Next, he pulled the upper part of the armor over himself and slipped on the surcoat. He didn’t forget to hide throwing knives in the belt across his chest. He stored some at his waist as well. He figured his usual gear wouldn’t be enough against that gargoyle. Normally, he avoided using throwing knives because they were too costly, but if he wanted to defeat the gargoyle, he couldn’t afford to hold back.
After that, he attached the kukri knife to the back of his waist and used his mouth to pull tight the cords of his gauntlets. When that was done, he checked the contents of the pouch he wore around his waist—one by one, he carefully packed the recovery potion he had bought from Dan yesterday, as well as the expensive emergency-use paralysis drugs he’d originally owned. He then grabbed one of them and drank it all at once as a stimulant. He took up his Green Dragon Crescent Blade, put on his adventurer’s boots, and made sure the laces were properly tightened.
“Alright—”
Standing at the entrance, Nada checked everything again.
Gear. Luggage. Recovery potions. Weapons were properly maintained. Armor was secured. And since he had just woken up, his mind was clear.
Once he was sure nothing was missing, he opened the door.
He glared at the half-crescent sun rising from the earth and—
“—What a fine morning.”
He said it with a darkened face.
There was no freshness in his expression—only a murky, simmering intent to kill the gargoyle.
The small stone placed by his pillow watched his departing back in silence.
But that stone was, without a doubt—warm.
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