Later that night…
Aeron found himself standing in the middle of a ruined town, its once-thriving streets reduced to nothing but ash and destruction. The blood moon loomed above, bathing the world in a crimson hue. The air reeked of smoke and death. Houses were engulfed in flames, their skeletal remains casting eerie shadows on the ground.
Venomspike Crawlers (A centipede-like abomination, as long as a python but with a body segmented into razor-sharp armored plates. Each segment has venomous barbs protruding outward, glowing with a sickly green hue. Its many legs twitch constantly, allowing it to move at terrifying speeds. Its massive pincers can snap bones in an instant, while its dripping fangs release a paralytic venom that slowly melts its prey from the inside) slithered through the burning ruins, their grotesque forms weaving through the wreckage. The streets were littered with corpses—men, women, children—lifeless bodies scattered without mercy. The agonized screams of survivors echoed through the night, mixing with the wails of children clutching the cold, lifeless hands of their parents.
Above, Rotwing Vultures (A monstrous vulture-like creature with an enormous wingspan of 30 feet, its body covered in decaying black feathers that ooze a foul-smelling liquid. Its hooked beak is serrated like a saw, dripping with acidic saliva that can dissolve flesh. Its talons are gnarled and powerful, easily capable of lifting a grown man into the skies, only to drop him from terrifying heights. Instead of regular eyes, it has empty, glowing red sockets that radiate a sinister light) circled hungrily, their diseased talons digging into the flesh of the dead, tearing apart what little remained. Dreadhowlers (A nightmarish wolf-like beast, as massive as a buffalo, covered in thick, jagged fur that bristles like sharpened spikes. Its glowing amber eyes pierce through the darkness, and its elongated fangs protrude even when its mouth is shut. The beast's claws are like curved daggers, and its powerful limbs allow it to move faster than a cheetah. When it runs, its movements are almost unnatural—like a blur of black death. More savage than any hyena, the Dreadhowler is an apex predator that doesn't just kill—it devours its prey entirely, leaving nothing but dust. Its eerie, echoing howl has a paralyzing effect, instilling deep fear into anyone who hears it, making them easier prey) prowled through the blood-soaked streets, their guttural growls rumbling like thunder before they pounced on their helpless prey. And in the sky, Stromclaws hovered, their monstrous wings blocking out what little light the burning homes provided.
It was a nightmare. A grotesque, twisted reality of pure, unfiltered horror.
Aeron's stomach twisted violently. His vision blurred. His legs trembled beneath him.
Then—he puked. His head spun. His entire body shook with fear.
"What… What is this?" His voice barely escaped his lips.
His breathing grew erratic as his mind tried to process the sheer carnage before him.
Then… something grabbed his leg.
Aeron looked down and his breath hitched.
It was a boy. No — a child.
His flesh was half-rotted, his bones visible beneath torn skin, his innards spilling from his open torso. His lifeless eyes held onto a flicker of desperation.
"Help me…" The boy whimpered, his voice fragile, barely a whisper over the burning wreckage.
Aeron's entire body froze.
Then he screamed.
Panic overtook him, and he ran.
He ran, ran, ran.
Away from the boy. Away from the nightmare. Away from the suffering that clawed at him from all directions.
Then—
A voice. Cold. Deep. Unshaken.
"Is this how you plan to save the people who come to you for help?"
Aeron's legs locked. His breath shuddered.
Trembling, he turned toward the sound. "Who… Who are you?! Where am I?! What is happening?!"
Then—he appeared.
The assassin.
The same one from his dreams.
His face was hidden, shrouded in darkness, his presence eerily calm amidst the chaos.
"The destruction you see before you," the assassin spoke, his voice steady, "is the aftermath of the Demon Kings rampage."
Aeron's hands clenched into fists.
The assassin took a step forward, his unreadable gaze locked onto Aeron.
"If you do not kill the Demon King, soon every town, every village, every home in this world will suffer the same fate."
Aeron's breath hitched. His trembling fingers reached for his weapon, though he knew it would do nothing against the figure before him.
"Who are you?! Why are you showing me this?" he demanded, voice shaking.
The assassin's next words sent a chill down his spine.
"You… the son of ***… will save this world."
His fear was replaced with a burning question. "How do you know my father?" Aeron asked, his hands no longer shaking.
The assassin's form began to fade into the darkness, his voice the only thing remaining.
"If you wish to know the truth, come to Veltharion Town… and find me there."
And then— Darkness.
Aeron's eyes shot open. His heart was pounding. Sweat soaked his body. His breath came in quick, ragged gasps.
He was awake. But the vision… it was no ordinary dream. It felt too real.
"Veltharion Town, huh?" Aeron muttered to himself, staring at the ceiling of his tent.
Veltharion Town—a place located at the edge of the Eryndor continent.
And Eryndor was two continents away from Zalaris, where the ASC camp was.
Aeron exhaled, gripping the sheets beneath him. "I have a long journey ahead of me."
His mind was made up. Slowly, he sat up, reaching for his gun and strapping it to his side. Then, grabbing his backpack, he silently stepped out of his tent.
The camp was quiet. Too quiet.
Aeron stood at the edge, just outside the entrance, staring into the dark, uncharted wilderness ahead of him.
Aeron glanced back one last time, his chest tightened.
"Thank you, guys… for everything."
A faint smile crossed his lips—one of gratitude… and farewell.
"Our journey ends here."
With those final words, Aeron turned his back to the camp… and walked into the darkness.