The word reverberated across the battlefield. Erend did as he was ordered and braced, tightly gripping his pike until his knuckles whitened.

This time he kept his eyes open, hoping to keep track of one of the spears.

He could clearly see how the cavalry drew closer, he locked eyes with his would-be assailant, recognizing him from the previous dream. Before he could think further, he could feel his pike impact the aggressor. Quickly, he sent the long weapon a look; seeing that the shaft had begun to bend, he loosened his grip on the weapon and felt the strain on the wood lessen. Then he was struck by the force of the enemy soldier.

He found himself lying on the cold, wet ground, staring at the sky. Dark clouds hung heavy over the plains, not even allowing a glimpse of the otherwise blue skies to peek through. Lightning danced behind the dark tapestry, occasionally penetrating it and spreading its light over the chaotic stage.

In just a breath’s time, Erend found his bearings. He quickly got up.

By his feet lay the enemy soldier, thoroughly impaled through his throat. The pike had found its way to a soft spot in his armor.

This time the man didn’t have time for any death throes, he had died instantly. His horse was nowhere to be seen; most likely it had darted past while Erend was knocked on his back.

Erend looked at the pike, it was in better condition this time around, yet far from usable. Such was probably the case with weapons of this kind, one kill was all they had in them.

He scoured the ground, hoping to find a spear lying around, and there it was, just a few paces away from the dead soldier.

Must have dropped it in the confrontation.

Erend threw a few glances around him, making sure no enemies were approaching. After confirming that he was safe, for now, he picked up the spear.

What did I do last time? Oh, right, the muttering soldier.

He looked around for the friendly soldier who’d been sent flying last time. Without any difficulty he located him.

“You there! You all right?” he shouted and kept his distance.

“I’m all right! Thank the moth-” The man was cut off as he was once again sent flying through the battlefield as a horseman rammed into him. Erend stood aghast.

“Fuck… That one’s on me. Should have expected it,” he said to himself.

Unceremoniously he moved on, forgetting about the soldier he could have saved. After all, it was just a dream.

A streak of lightning lit up the sky and Erend caught sight of a piece of shimmering metal, mostly hidden beneath a pile of mud.

The captain.

He walked over to the mud grave and thought about digging up the sword for a moment but discarded the idea as he recalled how terrible his fencing skills had fared last time around. Instead, he stood his ground, quietly surveying the area.

The ground was thrashed, more so than the plains over which they’d marched. The charging horde left the terrain worse for wear than the marching army ever could.

If I recall correctly the attacker from last time was well armored. It’s probably hard to move with a full plate armor in this mud. Maybe I can use that.

As he finished his thoughts, the sloshing sounds of footsteps alerted him to his nemesis’s approach. He turned toward the sound and faced the knight who’d killed him the night before.

His tabard was just as filthy as it had been the last time, but his swordsmanship and form were as spotless as ever.

The knight squared up against Erend, raising his shield while resting the side of his blade against it. He began moving, with slow, calculated footsteps, as if measuring the distance between them.

Erend didn’t stand still. He began circling the knight while keeping his distance. He had no plans of letting the knight make the first move again, he could remember clearly the agony that his passivity had resulted in.

The two regarded each other for a few moments before Erend made the first move and stabbed with his spear. The knight effortlessly shielded the attack, but Erend was quick to attack again, this time aiming toward the knight’s feet.

To his surprise, the knight made no effort to dodge the strike. He lowered his shield and threw a horizontal slash aimed at Erends throat.

Erend’s spear made contact with the knight’s plated boots and bounced off with a metallic clang. What the knight didn’t take into account was the terrain. The spear had hit him in his shin just as he lowered his shield. His foot was sent sliding in the mud, shifting his momentum and making his swing hit nothing but air.

This could work.

Seeing an opportunity, Erend swung his spear like a club, aiming at the knight’s legs.

Just as he’d hoped, the knight’s legs were easily swept to the side. The knight fell face down into the mud. He frantically clawed and kicked at the ground but found no purchase. The mud splashed wildly around him.

Erend didn’t hesitate as he aimed stab after stab at the knight, continuously sabotaging his efforts to get back to his feet. When the attacks were reflected by the armor, one after another, he realized he needed a new plan.

Shit! Why isn’t it working?!

He continued to stab; the tip of his spear was becoming blunter with each strike.

Right! The first guy had a weak spot in his armor where the plates overlapped.

As if in response to his thoughts, Erend saw a thread of blueish white – an almost ink-like material – forming in the air in front of him. It spread from the tip of his spear to a spot between the knight’s scapulae, just below the neck, where two plates connected, exposing a thin, dark line in the armor.

There.

He stabbed, focusing on the thread, letting it guide his spear. He could feel it impact the armor, and how the armor gave way for it. The spear penetrated the knight’s clothes, skin, and flesh before it came to an abrupt stop. The man let out a feral scream yet didn’t move a muscle.

Fuck, I must have hit his spine.

Erend felt sick to his stomach but didn’t stop. He put all his weight on the spear. He could almost hear how the bones forcefully bent under his weight. The man’s guttural scream echoed across the eerily silent battlefield.

A sudden crack put a stop to the knight’s suffering as Erend severed his spinal cord.

“God, fu–” was all Erend could utter before he emptied the contents of his stomach on the muddied field.

Stolen novel; please report.

The first kill had been quick, he’d barely had to do anything. The knight had seemed content enough with riding into his pike. This one, however, made the dream feel real. Though the battle lasted only for a few seconds, he felt like the killing had taken him an eternity.

Why is this happening to me…

BOOM

Lightning once again colored the sky with its undeniable wrath, lighting the surroundings enough for Erend to catch sight of a large, dark figure in the distance. It wore a dark set of skeletal armor. Its steed was naught more than skin and bone, yet it seemed frightfully powerful.

Erend heard the mud sloshing behind him once again, but before he could turn in response, he felt an intense heat spread in his midsection. Looking down he could see the captain’s beautiful sword emerging from his belly, accompanied by blood and gore. He knelt, throwing one last look at the dark figure in the distance, as he drew his last breath.

Is it… smiling?

***

Erend awoke with a jolt, hands skittering across his body, feeling it for wounds. Just as last time, there were none to be found.

What the hell was that?

He massaged his back, where the sword had pierced him. All he felt was how drenched in sweat he was. He looked at his bed and thought to himself.

The sheets are absolutely soaked. I won’t be able to fall asleep again. Not that I’d want to risk getting stuck in the dream again…

He sat on the side of his bed for a few seconds and listened. The birds hadn’t begun chirping yet. It would be some time until the sun rose.

It’s been a while since I went for a run. Guess I’ll do that.

He quietly picked up a pair of shoes and some well-worn exercise clothes before he snuck through the silent house – even Thomas was fast asleep – and out the front door.

The invigorating cool air hit his face and ruffled his hair. The streets were empty and quiet. With only the howling of wind accompanying him he set out on a jog.

To Erend, the city was even more beautiful during times like these. The cold moonlight gave it a sort of serene atmosphere. It provided a stark contrast to how the city was perceived during the daytime, with all its vibrant colors and life.

He ran past the Hoven bakery, toward the harbor. As he neared it, he could hear the muffled laughs of sailors and guards enjoying the crisp morning air, just as he was. The fishermen would head out to sea soon. At dawn, the tides shifted, and the fish stirred, making for prime fishing hours.

He ran through the harbor without catching a glimpse of Albert and decided to head a bit further, to the cliffs over by the shore.

The seagulls called out with their laugh-like cries to one another as they flew in circles above the docks.

Before they’d moved so close to the sea, Erend had never understood just how much of a nuisance the birds could be. Now he knew the terrifying truth of it all; they were never quiet. After a few years he had learned to filter out their sounds, but early mornings like these he became painfully reminded of their existence.

As he reached the cliffs, panting and soaked with sweat, he sat down on a rock to soak in the view.

Much had happened since he’d moved to Exodus. He was around nine years old at the time. He could still remember how he was against the whole thing. They’d not been well off back on Genesis, but they hadn’t been poor.

Seeing it as an opportunity, his parents jumped on the chance as soon as it presented itself. They’d been paid well to move to Exodus to help build a foothold for Duke Ashleight. There was always a need for blacksmiths on newly anchored planes, so his father had no trouble setting up shop.

By pure luck, Charles’ parents had felt the same way, and they’d moved to Exodus just a short while after Erend and his family. Having his best friend move here as well helped Erend come to terms with the move.

They’d been on Exodus for a little less than eight years now and it was remarkable how far the city had come. When they arrived, describing the city as primitive would have been generous. Now they had bakeries, a harbor, schools, and daycares; they had everything one could want in a town, and even a little more.

Some three or so years ago, nobles had started moving to the plane, setting up facilities for export and a military chain of command.

Exodus had generally been peaceful; no hostile forces had managed to reach them since the migration. Largely because they’d luckily ended up on a volcanic island that the locals avoided. And for good reason too. There wasn’t much soil to farm, and the soil they had was riddled with volcanic stones. Seemed like the only things that grew here were moss and flowers. Luckily for the migrants, they had a teleportation circle and a steady supply of food. The volcanic stone made for great, sturdy building material which they had used for nearly every building.

There had been a few run-ins with the Greenskin faction from the southern continent, but they hadn’t sent any large forces, so they’d been dealt with by the sailors and guards patrolling the bay.

Somewhat friendly relation had been set up with the Hillsmen of the west. Mostly conducted on an island governed by a trading nation, Tirith.

A sort of status quo had been established, as long as the people of Exodus didn’t decide to travel into the further reaches of the plane, they’d probably be left alone. At least that was what they’d been told by the duke’s people.

The sun started to rise over the horizon in the distance. Its rays danced a glittery dance on the surface of the ocean and painted silhouettes of the fishing boats that had laid anchor in the bay.

About time I head back, dad’s probably brewed a fresh batch of coffee by now.

The jog back was uneventful but livelier than before. The town had begun to stir, it was a lot less quiet. He passed by the harbor and soon he could see the Hoven bakery. Through its dimly lit windows, he caught a glimpse of Charles’s old man, Peter, who in turn saw him and beckoned him inside with a wave.

The man was large in width and a little bit shorter than Erend. He wore a large smile on his face and his eyes practically sparkled with joy, as they always did.

“Good morning Erend! Out for a run this early huh? You should teach my son a thing or two about discipline. He’s just snoozing away these beautiful mornings like they’re worth nuthin’,” the wide man snickered.

With a laugh, Erend answered, “Good morning, Peter. Just seemed a shame to let the crisp morning air go to waste ‘s all. Normally I’d be sound asleep by now as well.”

“The awakening got you nervous, eh? Ain’t nuthin’ to worry about,” Peter said, waving the notion away in front of his face. “You best get going home, can’t be keeping you for too long lest you be late for school. Here, grab a fresh loaf for your pa and sister.” Peter reached into the glass display and pulled out a steaming loaf of bread that he bagged up with practiced hands.

Erend happily received the loaf and left the store with a wave. The rest of the jog home was a bit more awkward since he had to do it while cradling a hot loaf of bread and all, but it was manageable. Before long he was home.

He entered the front door and knocked some dirt off his shoes against the doorpost.

“Morning!” Thomas shouted from the kitchen. “Where’ve you been?”

Erend removed his shoes and walked into the kitchen where his father was sitting next to Elle with a cup of steaming coffee.

“Just out for a run. I woke up early and couldn’t go back to sleep. I saw Peter on the way back, he gave me a fresh loaf,” Erend said and presented the bagged-up loaf.

Thomas got up from his chair and received the bread with a sniff and a satisfied smile.

“I want to run too!” Elle exclaimed.

“Oh? Alright, I’ll wake you up next time,” Erend said, faking surprise.

“Hmm. No, I like to sleep.”

“What’ll it be then?”

“Uhm… Ask me tomorrow,” Elle said and hoisted up her cup of milk with both hands before taking a few loud sips.

“I’ll hold you to it.”

In affirmation Elle nodded and grunted, still drinking her milk.

After enjoying his breakfast together with Elle and Thomas he freshened up and grabbed a new set of clothes before he made for the door.

“Thank Peter for me when you pass by, won’t you?” Thomas said while waving him off.

“Sure thing Dad! See you later,” Erend said and waved goodbye as he walked off toward Charles.

The streets were fully alive, the same paperboy as the day before was yelling about the same news. The nobles and rich folk raced down the streets in their fancy carriages.

Always in such a hurry.

Charles waited under the pretzel sign as usual.

“I’ve got big news!” Charles exclaimed as Erend got into earshot.

“Good morning to you too. Go on then,” Erend said as they started walking to school.

“I’m going to become an adventurer and explore the planes!” Charles said, practically bubbling with excitement.

“You’ve made up your mind then?”

“Yes! I even told Dad about it this morning. He agreed with me. ‘Of course, you’ll not become a baker. You can’t even knead a dough without burning it,’ he said.”

“Sounds like Peter. You’ll take up employ with a shipper then?”

“I think so! Albert’s a warrior, and I bet he can help me get a job at the shipping company if I pick up something to complement his fighting style. The three of us could form a party!”

“Sounds good. I spoke with Dad yesterday, about what I wa--” Erend was cut short as a shrill ringing overtook his mind. He crouched down, grabbing the sides of his head.