Arthur was running as fast as he could, which to his surprise was actually really fast. The midnight air whipped past his face as his boots pounded against the strange, rose-covered terrain. Each stride carried him further than should have been physically possible.
He knew all Chosen received basic physical enhancements whenever their realm core formed and every time it ranked up, but this felt different. This was speed beyond what those enhancements should provide. His best guess was it had something to do with the night itself—he'd felt much stronger and faster during his previous nighttime fight than he had during daylight hours. Some kind of nocturnal affinity, perhaps?
But he had no time to ponder this mystery. He may be fast, but the Nightreaves flying through the star-studded sky were faster, gaining on him with each passing second. Their dark silhouettes blotted out the stars above as they dove toward him, wings extended like blades of darkness.
Arthur stopped looking back, scared it would slow him down even by a fraction of a second—and in this moment, such hesitation could cost him his life. Instead, he sprinted with all his might, forced to sense the Nightreaves getting closer through his dark sense.
'No, no, no, I don't wanna die,' his mind raced frantically. 'Not like this, not after everything was starting to finally look up.'
Arthur's face contorted with fear and regret as he ran, whimpering with exhaustion with every step. His lungs burned, and his muscles screamed for rest, but he pushed onward. He felt the Nightreaves about to reach his back and closed his eyes tightly while running, bracing himself for the inevitable tearing of flesh and sinew.
He felt them get closer... and closer... and then... further?
The air pressure suddenly shifted. Confused, Arthur let his eyes shoot open and was immediately blinded by the looming sun shining just over the horizon, bathing the field of blood-red roses in golden light.
'It's morning?'
Arthur felt the Nightreaves leave his sensory radius and, finally feeling safe enough, he stopped and turned around. In the distance, he could see them flying away at a frantic pace, climbing far into the sky as if fleeing from the light itself.
'I guess they're not big fans of the light?' Arthur watched them retreat, their dark forms becoming tiny specks against the brightening sky.
A smile grew on his face that did not reach his eyes. Soon, a chuckle escaped his lips, followed by another and another, until he was breaking out into a full fit of manic laughter that lasted minutes before finally trailing off.
"This place is gonna make me go insane," he muttered, wiping his face clean of sweat with the back of his hand. The once clean and ancient robe he took from the monk was now tattered and stained with dirt and what might have been blood—his own or otherwise. "I mean, I'm only one day in, and I'm already talking to myself."
His smile dimmed, and he shook his head aggressively, trying to clear the cobwebs of exhaustion and fear.
'Gotta keep moving.'
Arthur turned around and began once again walking endlessly across the field of roses that stretched in every direction. The horizon never seemed to change, just an eternal ocean of the dead blooms that whispered seductively to his mind whenever his concentration wavered.
The day progressed much like the one before. The sun scorched down on him as he passed the oddly killed bodies of Grimhounds—their corpses never mutilated or gorey but cleanly killed with never more than one strike. He walked through the sea of roses, staying completely focused on his goal, not letting his mind waver for even a moment, risking being taken over by the roses' strange mental influence.
Night fell once more, the transition marked by a sudden drop in temperature and the deep blue moon rising in the sky. Tonight went smoother than before; he fought one Nightreaver again and, just like last time, barely escaped death, but this time he didn't run into any packs. He'd gotten better at sensing their approach and hiding when necessary, using the terrain to his advantage.
Soon, day broke once more, offering him temporary peace from the nocturnal creatures. More and more days trickled by in this lonesome place, and Arthur only became increasingly unstable. He hadn't eaten, slept, or really stopped moving for any significant period. He was determined to make it out of this field as quickly as possible.
Chosen could survive without food and sleep for much longer than normal humans, but that didn't mean their minds wouldn't suffer the same effects of deprivation. Arthur was approaching his fifth day in this realm, and his sanity was slowly wavering. The constant vigilance required to resist the roses' temptation was taking its toll.
The whispers had grown more persuasive each day, promising rest, comfort, and the eternal peace he longed for.
Just lie down among us, the roses seemed to say. Well make it all better… you can rest now Arthur.
Arthur was finding it harder and harder to resist their call. He knew he'd probably give in soon, but he would hold out until the absolute end. He may not expect to actually make it back to earth but that doesn't mean he'll just give up and die.
On the fifth day, as Arthur walked mindlessly through the blazing heat, he stared vacantly into the distance. His eyes had grown accustomed to seeing nothing but roses in every direction. But then, something different caught his eye—a disruption in the endless field.
His eyes widened, and his mouth fell open in shock. He stared, disbelieving, for a moment before breaking into a desperate run.
'Finally!'
In the distance, rising above the sea of roses, stood the unmistakable silhouette of some sort of small stone structure, perhaps one of the 5 temples. For the first time in days, something other than roses and monsters occupied the landscape ahead.
Arthur ran with renewed vigor, ignoring the burning in his legs and the dryness in his throat. Whatever waited in that temple if anything at all had to be better than this damned field.