Chapter 84: Weird dreams, Travel on

The woman left Arden after a few hours. She was busybody woman who seemed to reek of danger. He rather avoids getting along with someone like her and thus he ignored her. The woman left warm on his bed. The smell of perfume stayed on the cloth bed stuffed with cotton. He still rested though, closing his eyes shut.

After that, he stayed idle in the bed. He was dead tired, and it was rare that he could have a bed. The last time he got a bed was when he was still in Mesh City. In his travels, he would always find himself sleeping under trees or in the stables along with the horses. It was rare that he could find a good place like this.

So he was rather happy about getting this attic room. Although there was someone who came inside his room and left her scent, it was still fine for him. He let the softness of the bed overwhelm him. He rested his body, drifted his mind into nothingness. It was quiet, the rabble outside was tamed and he could rest well. Arden just lets himself drift into a complete relaxation trance until he fell asleep.

Then he started dreaming. Inside his dream was a wasteland of sand. In the wasteland, he could see thousands of arms sticking around. They look like they were crawling out of the sand, trying to get out. He wondered why they were trying to get out. But when he walks he felt something grab him. The one that grabs him looked familiar. It was the bandit leader who he stabbed in the stomach and the neck. He tried to get the figure out of his boots. But the man who had empty black eyes clawed on him.

“Why.”

The eyeball-less man said.

“Why”

He said again.

Arden didn’t know why. He merely jolted and tried to kick the man away. The eyeball-less man didn’t let go of him. He was holding to Arden tightly as if letting go would drown him back to the sound. He was clawing desperately, his fingers seemed like it would scratch Arden’s legs. Arden saw the man dig his fingers into his legs.

A bolt of pain came about. He reacted and immediately used his hands to grab the clawing hand of the man and with a bit of forced removed the hands away from his legs. The hands got removed. He then stomped on the man’s head and put him down back to the ground. He felt cold suddenly and he could feel an odd dread surrounding him.

The surrounding area clamored. The ground rumbled and rattled as if there are bones crackling under the ground. Arden then saw various arms sprouting like flowers on a field. Each arm moved, leaving a trail of dirt, tilling the wasteland. All of those hands came to him and before he knew it, the hands grabbed on to his leg.

“No!”

He shouted. The hands pulled. They started to dig their fingers on Arden as he gets pulled down the ground, akin to a quicksand. He felt his body shake and before he could even utter a sound, he realized that his mouth was already under the ground. He started drowning and Arden could not open his mouth.

...

Arden woke up. He squeezed his eyes open and saw the ceiling of the attic room. Sweat filled his forehead, his neck, and his limbs. He just had a very bad dream. He could tell that in the dream those hands were from the people he killed. He could remember their faces and the way they plead for him to not kill them.

His heart thump. Sweat came about; he grabs his head and squeezes his hair tightly in between his fingers. His breathing became ragged, and he felt something crawl down his stomach as if it was going to burst. He managed to hold his mouth from vomiting, and he instead went near to the rather pried window and popped his head outside. He inhaled air to his lungs, and then breathed in and breathed out until he could feel his mind calmed again.

This was the first time he dreamed something like that. It was weird, he finds it odd. He felt like there was something missing or at least a meaning within those dreams. Arden wondered what those dreams are for. Is there any difference to those dreams? He couldn’t ask anyone about it and he feels like it was something he shouldn’t put meaning on.

He feels like stealing his mind would be better. He doesn’t need those thoughts and that it might get in the way. His foster father always told him that when the time comes that he kills a man. He should look them in the eye, ingrained the memory of the life that is being vanquished and used it to steel his mind.

Arden’s first kill was a thug in the Mesh Academy. His first kill was rather odd. He didn’t feel anything seeing a corpse. He just thought that it looked the same as the corpses of his former parents. They were merely dead and lifeless, a cadaver. So he didn’t have any odd feelings. He was used to it.

He didn’t feel guilt and even the dreams he had didn’t scare him that much. He focused his eyes on the flagstones of the road. He saw people, the carts, the wagons and the folks passing by, going with their own business. He stared at them before long, and before he knew it, he found himself leaning on the window, looking at them intensely.

The Inn’s roof was hipped, and the tiles were blocking people from seeing him. So unless they go far, which he doubts, no would spot him eyeballing the activity in the town. It was peaceful, there were guards, and it didn’t feel like the monsters or the degenerates around the overworld scare the town.

Maybe it was the walls? Arden thought.

...

The next day, Arden packed his stuff and went to the nearest stable. He bought a steed and a saddle along with some accessories for the horses. It didn’t come up as cheap, but it was enough for him. He took his steed and rode it along the streets of the town. Then he went out of the gates and stopped for a while. He checked his map and then looked up where Dunwich was. After looking it up he kicks his horse and started riding towards there.

His goal was to reach Dunwich,