"A gift? What gift?"
Ishy's voice came out hoarse, barely louder than a whisper. He spun around on the bone-white shore, eyes darting frantically across the endless red sea and the bruised sky. The ethereal voice had spoken so clearly inside his head, yet now there was only silence. No glowing box, no floating reward, no sign of anything that could be called a "gift."
He kept turning, bare feet sinking into the crushed stone that felt disturbingly like ground bone. The air smelled of iron and old incense. His white tunic clung coldly to his skin, already soaked from the sea.
"Where are you? Show me the damn gift!" he shouted, frustration mixing with the fear that had been building since the checkpoint. "I didn't ask for any of this!"
CLANK.
The sound was sharp, metallic, and final.
A heavy iron shackle suddenly clamped around his right ankle. The cold metal snapped shut with brutal force, biting deep into flesh and bone.
"MMPH!!… AAHHHHHH!.. MOTHER-!!"
The scream tore out of Ishy before he could stop it. His closed lips couldn't hold it back. The pain was immediate and vicious — a hot, burning sensation like someone had wrapped his ankle in steel that had been left baking under the sun for eternity. It wasn't just pressure. It felt alive. Parasitic. Like the chain was drinking in his pain and growing stronger from it.
Ishy's legs gave out instantly. He fell flat onto the shore, face pressing into the sharp white grit. His whole body convulsed as he tried to breathe through the agony. His fingers dug into the ground, nails scraping uselessly against the bone-like sand.
"Fuck… fuck… it burns…" he gasped between gritted teeth. Tears stung the corners of his eyes. The chain felt heavier than it had any right to be — far heavier than simple iron. Every tiny shift of his leg sent fresh waves of fire shooting up his calf and into his thigh.
He lay there for what felt like minutes, chest heaving, trying not to scream again. The blood-colored bruise on his neck pulsed in time with the burning in his ankle, as if the two were connected by the same cruel thread.
Slowly, the worst of the initial pain dulled into a constant, throbbing ache. Ishy pushed himself up on shaky arms, breathing hard. The heavy chain trailed behind him, disappearing into thin air a few meters away, as if anchored to something invisible in this nightmare realm.
"This… this is the gift?" he muttered bitterly, voice cracking. "A fucking chain? After everything… this is what the Anchor gives me?"
He sat up fully, pulling his knees toward his chest — or trying to. The shackle made even that simple movement difficult. The iron links groaned with every shift, a low metallic rasp that seemed to echo across the desolate shore.
Memories flooded back uninvited. His mother's grave. The cheap flowers. The way he had whispered "I'm sorry" into the wind because he never got to say it while she was alive. He had thought grief was the heaviest thing he would ever carry. Now this chain proved him wrong.
Ishy looked out at the Sea of Blood. The red waves lapped lazily at the shore, almost peaceful now that they had finished dragging him here. But he knew better. This place — the Fallen Dream — was no accident. It was a trial. A crucible for the Infected.
He tested the chain again, giving it a hard tug. The links held firm, and fresh pain flared up his leg. He hissed through his teeth.
"How the hell am I supposed to move like this?" he growled. "Am I just supposed to sit here and wait to die?"
The bruise on his neck throbbed harder, almost mockingly.
Then the air changed.
A freezing wind swept across the sea, carrying the scent of grave-dust and old blood. The sky seemed to darken slightly at the edges. Ishy tensed, every muscle still aching from the chain's sudden appearance.
From the grey haze beyond the jagged rocks, three figures emerged.
They moved with predatory grace — nothing like the shambling, broken Infected Ishy had heard stories about. These men wore reinforced leather armor stained with old blood and dark iron plates. Serrated blades hung at their hips. Their eyes, hidden behind masks, scanned the shore with cold calculation.
Awakened Hunters.
They weren't dragged here by the Anchor like him. They had chosen this nightmare. Paid the blood price through Chalice Rituals just to enter as executioners and looters.
The lead Hunter stepped forward, hand resting casually on the hilt of his blade. His voice cracked like a whip through the thin air.
"What are you doing here, prisoner?"
Ishy didn't answer immediately. He stayed on the ground, chain heavy on his ankle, heart pounding against his ribs. The absurdity of it hit him hard — armed men enforcing "law and order" in the middle of literal hell.
The Hunter tilted his head, noticing the white tunic and the obvious iron shackle.
"Most Hollowed are already screaming or weeping by now," the man continued, voice muffled by his mask. "You're still coherent. Interesting."
Ishy swallowed hard, forcing his voice to stay steady even though his ankle still burned.
"How about you answer me first?" he said, looking the lead Hunter in the eyes — or where he imagined the eyes were. "What are Hunters like you doing in this realm? What are you even looking for?"
The three men went still. The two subordinates exchanged a quick glance. The lead Hunter's hand stopped tapping the hilt of his blade.
A long, heavy silence stretched between them. Only the low hum of the wasteland and the occasional clink of Ishy's chain broke it.
"You're a sharp one, kid," the leader finally muttered, stepping closer. The tip of his scabbard dragged through the dust. "Most don't question logistics when they're busy drowning in their own fear."
He crouched slightly, voice dropping.
"We aren't here for the government. There are things in this specific Dream — echoes of a god that hasn't finished rotting — worth more than a thousand Blood Stones. And you…"
The Hunter's masked face seemed to smile behind the fabric.
"…You're just the key we need to unlock the vault."
Ishy felt a fresh wave of disgust rise in his chest. He looked down at the heavy chain biting into his ankle, then back at the three well-armed men in their polished gear.
"A key?" he spat, unable to hide the bitterness. "You're serious? What makes you think I'll help you open anything?"
The air around the Hunters began to hum faintly — the sign of Blood Stones being channeled. The two subordinates started to fan out, hands moving toward their weapons.
The lead Hunter's tone turned cold and pragmatic.
"Hear that sound in the distance?" he said, tilting his head toward the dark treeline. A low, wet tearing growl echoed from the woods — something massive moving between the trees. "That's an Awakened Beast. Class 3. Doesn't belong in a simple initiation dream like this."
He extended a gloved hand toward Ishy, almost mockingly polite.
"You can stay here and wait for it to peel the skin from your bones… or you can come with us. We have the steel. We have the ritual. Right now, we're the only thing standing between you and becoming gristle."
Ishy stared at the offered hand. His ankle still burned. The chain felt heavier with every passing second. He didn't trust these men for a second, but dying alone on this shore wasn't an option either.
With a defeated rattle of iron, he pushed himself up and stepped forward.
The lead Hunter's masked smile widened.
"Smart kid."
They led him away from the shore toward a clearing where a heavy caravan waited. It wasn't pulled by horses, but by two shambling, skinless Hollowed Beasts bound in thick leather harnesses. Their milky eyes stared blankly ahead.
One of the subordinates didn't wait for Ishy to climb in. A heavy palm slammed into his back, shoving him roughly into the dark wooden interior.
Ishy tumbled onto the floorboards, the chain clanging painfully. He scrambled to sit up, breathing hard.
He wasn't alone.
A dozen other young men and women — all around his age, all wearing the same coarse white tunics — sat crammed inside. Some wept silently. Others stared at the floor with empty, thousand-yard stares. Every single one of them had the same haunted look. The same blood-colored bruises hidden somewhere under their clothes.
The lead Hunter stood at the cage door, hand on the lock, sweeping his gaze over the "cargo" with cold indifference.
No one spoke. The silent warning was clear: speak, and you become a liability.
Ishy pulled his knees to his chest in the corner, the heavy chain coiled beside him like a sleeping serpent. As the caravan began to lurch forward, a faint blue light flickered in the darkness only he could see.
The [ STATUS ] menu waited patiently.
And somewhere in the distance, the low growl of the Awakened Beast echoed again — closer this time.