"Ah, my neck feels so light."
After the collar was removed from his neck, the guards led him into the city and then left him to complete their duties.
Acting in front of the lord had been difficult, even for someone like him, whom many called a master of deception.
His rise in the slums hadn't come from strength. He had licked the boots of those above him, killed his opponents, and manipulated the slum residents. Eventually, he had controlled the entire slum.
He had long discarded pride.
And yet, in front of the lord, he knew success would be hard.
Everything he'd said was built upon lies and fragments of truth.
Every lie had flaws, and Marcus had nearly pointed out one.
But the lord quickly silenced him—not because he trusted Ghost, but to give Ghost the false sense of trust.
Ghost became certain of this when the lord granted him freedom from slavery.
"False freedom..." Ghost muttered.
It was a method commonly used by police and government officials. By giving a suspect an illusion of freedom, they could trap him more easily.
'I'm sure I'm being watched.'
Ghost sighed as he walked through the city. His appearance drew plenty of attention.
He didn't have enough money to buy proper clothes.
"I'm so thirsty, man."
Ghost continued walking, subtly glancing around to confirm if he was being followed.
Arriving at a well, he pulled the rope, bringing up a bucket.
He drank from the bucket deeply, deliberately biting his lip until blood seeped into the water.
Finished, he returned the bucket to the well, letting his blood mingle with the water below.
Ghost then visited a restaurant and ordered soup with all the money he had left.
After eating, he left.
In this medieval age, most people didn't care much about cleanliness. Knowing this, Ghost intentionally touched everything that people would eat or drink from: spoons, forks, plates, cups.
The reason was simple—he was sick.
His body weakened with every passing second.
This, of course, was due to the infection he'd contracted from the abomination.
Ghost's plan was straightforward. He'd infect as many people as possible and then escape the city before being caught.
Perhaps by killing all the city's inhabitants—just like in his dream—he could complete his first nightmare.
Escaping the person watching him, whom he'd already identified, would be simple.
After all, he was a rat from the slums at heart, no matter how high he rose.
Since he had no home, he found a quiet spot and pretended to sleep.
***
Disaster struck swiftly. Within three days, the infection had spread throughout the city.
Those infected were quickly disposed of, but it didn't matter. It was already too late.
The lord buried his face in his hand. He knew precisely why the infection had spread.
It was because of that slave.
He had believed he was the one manipulating the slave, but it turned out to be the opposite.
"What have I done...?"
Suddenly, the hall doors burst open.
He didn't bother looking up.
"Did you find him?"
"I-I'm sorry, my lord! We couldn't find him. It was as if he'd vanished—like a ghost."
The lord rose from his seat and screamed at Marcus, "Bring me his head by any means necessary! And bring me the head of the one ordered to mon— Cough! Cough!"
Blood splattered onto the white marble floor.
His blood.
Sinking back onto the silver throne, he muttered bitterly, "Is this how it ends? Brimholt's legacy, destroyed by a mere slave? Hahaha..."
***
Ghost looked toward the walls of Brimholt. They hadn't found him because he'd already left the city.
He examined his skin, pale and lifeless like the zombies. He should've been under the abomination's control by now, but his [Freewill] attribute functioned exactly as described.
Entering the city through unguarded gates, he noticed the residents standing motionless, unlike the mindless creatures from his dream.
Of course, this was because the abomination controlling them was still alive.
He climbed the stairs to the castle, coughing up blood with each step. His survival was nothing short of miraculous.
Unable to control him, the virus—or whatever it was—was now trying to kill him instead.
He entered the castle gates, walking through its silent halls until he reached the throne room door.
Opening it, he saw only a single man seated on the throne.
It was the Lord of Brimholt.
'He's still alive?'
Indeed, the lord of the dead city was alive.
The lord raised his head, his face filled with anger and hatred.
"You... how are you still alive? No... it's good that you're alive. Now I can kill you with my own hands."
The lord stood slowly, raising a longsword, and approached Ghost.
He was slow—far too slow.
Ghost stepped forward swiftly, kicking the lord's stomach and causing him and his sword to fall to the ground.
Ghost picked up the sword and stood above the lord, the sword pointing at the man's skull.
"You were a good lord; I'll acknowledge that. But your ego blinded you."
He plunged the sword deep into the lord's skull, killing him instantly.
[You have slain an Awakened human, name unknown.]
[You have slain a dormant beast, zombie parasite.]
Ghost's eyes widened slightly.
"It seems since the parasite didn't fully control the lord, the Nightmare Spell counted it as a separate entity."
He tried to move, but suddenly he froze, his eyes widening further.
[You have received a Memory…]
[You have received an Echo…]
"W-what?! A Memory and an Echo?"
Ghost quickly tried to open his runes, but the world around him began to crack.
And then, everything went dark.
[Wake up, Aspirant! Your nightmare is over.]
[Prepare for appraisal…]
***
Finally, the first nightmare is finished. The only thing left is the appraisal. Which I'm sure a lot of you will like it.
Leave a review on this fanfic, chapter and some power stones, so more people can read it.
And see you again tomorrow.