The Sea Hydra, known to the Mer as Tiamtu-Balmu and to the surface dwellers as the Sevensnake, is a fearsome war beast employed by the enigmatic people of the sea. These colossal creatures, each bearing seven serpent-like heads, serve as the living engines of war for the Mer in their relentless battles upon land and sea. Each head, capable of extending up to thirty paces, is lined with an array of serrated teeth. These are designed for tearing flesh and armor alike, and can unleash a paralyzing, venomous spray that fells even the mightiest foes.
However, a Sea Hydra's most formidable attribute is its regenerative ability. A Sevensnake can rapidly recover from injuries that would prove fatal to other creatures, rendering it an almost indestructible force.
In the hands of the Mer, the Tiamtu-Balmu becomes an embodiment of their implacable will, an unstoppable tide of destruction that none can withstand.
- Monsters of the Mortal Realms by K. D. Fidditch.
The middle-aged woman was standing in the center of an open field, her posture as unyielding as a stone pillar. The light from this place’s sun cast her shadow long across the grass between us. I felt within me a mix of defiance and curiosity. What was there to learn from this woman; this woman from a long-lost dream?
For this was a dream, of that I was sure.
After I introduced myself, she gave me her full name.
Fen Vaigorus, a name whispered through the pages of one of my books.
A swordmaster, The first human to bear the fabled Mantis Mark. A surprise indeed, for I had always imagined Fen to be a man.
I had come here to grow in power, lured by the promises of the Necromancer - the promises of a quick and easy path. I was not yet convinced that this Fen, with her calm demeanor and piercing eyes, could teach me anything new in the confines of a dream.
“In a place as unreal as this, we must make this as real as possible,” she said, picking a suspiciously sharp-looking sword up and throwing it to me.
I was feeling challenged, and my male pride could only allow me to accept.
Despite my doubts, we sparred with live blades, and I found myself utterly outmatched. Each move I made was countered with an effortless grace, as if she anticipated my every thought. Despite all of my Strength and speed, the older woman made me look like a flailing idiot.
My frustration welled up, and eventually I cast my blade to the ground in surrender. It was like playing against a computer that could read your every input, I thought ruefully. Physically, I felt little strain, but the mental weight of being so thoroughly outclassed was trying. It was unfair, and I had been cheated.
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Besides, despite my best efforts, there was no reward, no notification of progress from my ‘System.’
“This is nothing more than a dream; a creation of the imagination. Anything I gain here is only made-up and would be of no use to me in the waking world,” I growled in distaste.
The graceful Fen looked at me wryly. “Perhaps that would have been so if this were a normal dream. And, perhaps, if this Dust dream were merely your own—a place where your mind wanders freely, unencumbered by the waking world’s constraints. A place of boundless, hedonistic imagination,” she paused, a grin tugging at her lips. “But this is no ordinary dream, Dust or otherwise. It is my dream, the unclouded and unvarnished truth as I have seen it,” she declared. “What you will learn here, you will carry into the waking world. The truth of the Living Sword.”
“I care not for mindless martial philosophies. If you are going to teach, then do it. There are people waiting for me. And do not think to ask why I wish to become strong, or say any other useless blather,” I countered flatly.
“I see that teaching you right thought before right action is putting the cart before the horse,” she observed with a sigh. “But first, you must acknowledge one truth: I am better at fighting than you. Much better.”
I nodded reluctantly, though it galled me to no end.
“I have a few questions,” I ventured, eager to move to a different topic to salve my injured pride. “What is this place, exactly?”
“Did not my esteemed friend Vince explain? This is a shared dream, one of which I am the master. It is a place in the formless world, given shape by my will. In short, the rules here are dictated by me to create the best environment for training,” she answered.
“And you are Fen Vaigorus… the Swordmaster Fen Vaigorus? Have you not been dead for hundreds of years?” I asked, half-disbelieving.
Her face grew wan. “Both yes and no. I am indeed Fen,” she paused, her voice growing hollow as the life seemed to drain from her. “No; I am an echo, a fragment of the person that was Fen Vaigorus. A part of a promise to Vincenzio. A memory. But, unlike a memory that will fade slowly , I will be lost into oblivion once I have fulfilled my purpose.”
I forced myself to hold back a snort. Even in this fantasy land women had the habit of making the simplest of explanations overly complicated and melodramatic.
"...and I was not just a Swordmaster. I was known as the Weaponmaster," Vaigorus proclaimed with no small amount of pride.
"I see. Back to my earlier question, how exactly will I be able to take back what I learn here into the waking world?"
"I do not know the exact mechanics of that; I know only that this is a limited simulacrum of the waking world. Aided by the refined Asixum pollen, your mind, and more importantly, your body will remember everything even upon waking," she explained.
"And, speaking of time... must I spend years here to learn what I must?"
She turned away, looking jittery for the barest fraction of a second. "Time here is… fluid and inexact. Though I cannot give you an exact estimate, you will be given time enough to learn what must be learned. To do what must be done. Time passes slower here than in the waking world," she confessed. "It is a thing of the god-gift, Mana."
I narrowed my eyes suspiciously, not quite believing Fen. Too many markers of deception had played about her face.