The Last Nightmare

Nate's body ached, but he pushed forward. Every step sent a dull throb through his muscles, a painful reminder of his earlier training. He had spent hours drilling the basics, swinging his katana until his arms felt like lead. But training without true danger meant nothing. He had to test himself in a real fight.

The dungeon stretched before him, a maze of jagged stone and flickering torches. The air felt thick, carrying a faint metallic scent. Blood.

His grip on the katana tightened. His breath slowed.

Then, he heard it.

A low, guttural growl.

The sound sent a shiver down his spine, primal and threatening. His instincts screamed at him to run, but he held his ground. This was what he had come here for.

From the shadows, the beast emerged.

A hulking form covered in thick, matted fur. Its glowing yellow eyes locked onto him, unblinking. Its claws dug into the ground, tense, ready to pounce.

A dungeon wolf.

Nate had read about them, had seen descriptions carved onto the dungeon's stone walls. But none of those prepared him for the sheer size of the creature in front of him. It was bigger than any wolf he had ever seen—its muscles rippled beneath its hide, and its breath came out in slow, deliberate huffs, as if it knew exactly how powerful it was.

This wasn't some mindless beast. It was a hunter.

And he was its prey.

I can do this.

He exhaled, forcing his body into a stance. He remembered the way the girl had fought—fluid, precise. Stay light, move fast, don't panic.

The wolf lunged.

Too fast.

He barely managed to roll to the side, and even then, the beast's claws whistled past his shoulder, missing him by inches. The wind from the attack rushed against his skin, reminding him how close it had been.

He reacted, swinging his katana in a wide arc—

But the wolf twisted mid-air.

It landed gracefully, dodging the attack with ease.

Nate barely had time to process before the beast was on him again.

It slammed into his side.

A sudden, crushing impact. His ribs screamed in pain as he hit the ground hard, his sword nearly slipping from his grip. The air rushed from his lungs as he struggled to move.

The wolf loomed over him, saliva dripping from its fangs. Its growl rumbled through his bones.

Move!

He rolled away just as claws tore through the ground where he had been lying.

His breathing was ragged. His hands shook.

This wasn't like swinging a sword at nothing. This wasn't like dodging imaginary attacks in training.

This was real. And he was losing.

The katana felt heavy in his hands. His muscles burned from earlier. But training meant nothing if he died here.

The wolf lunged again. This time, he managed to sidestep just in time, bringing his sword down in a clean arc.

A hit!

Or so he thought.

The blade barely cut into the beast's thick hide before it twisted again—too fast—and slammed its head into his chest.

Pain.

The force sent him crashing into a stone wall. The impact sent a sharp shock through his spine, his vision flashing white for a second.

His legs trembled as he forced himself up. His grip on the katana tightened.

The wolf didn't hesitate.

It sprinted toward him, its claws digging into the dirt, each step carrying deadly intent.

No mercy. No pause.

Nate's mind screamed—I'm going to die!

The beast leaped.

He had no time. No options.

Desperation took over.

At the last second, he threw himself to the side, barely avoiding the killing blow. But the wolf's claws raked across his arm—white-hot pain shot through him.

His katana clattered to the ground.

Blood dripped down his sleeve. His arm burned.

He wasn't ready.

The wolf snarled, circling him now. It sensed his weakness.

This is it, he thought. This is how I die.

The beast pounced—

And at that moment—

A sharp whistle pierced the air.

The wolf froze mid-air, its ears twitching.

A shadow blurred past him.

A single, perfect movement. A flash of steel.

The girl.

Her sword sliced through the wolf's throat in one swift motion.

A clean kill.

The wolf's massive body hit the ground with a dull thud.

Silence.

Nate's breath came in ragged gasps. His body trembled, his heart hammering against his chest. He had been seconds away from dying.

The girl looked down at him. Her expression was unreadable, but there was no sympathy in her eyes.

"Still too slow."

Her voice was calm. Detached.

She sheathed her sword, as if the battle had meant nothing to her. As if the wolf had never even been a threat.

Nate's fingers curled into fists.

He had lost. Completely.

He thought back to all those hours of training—swinging his sword until his arms gave out, telling himself he was getting stronger.

But the reality was harsh. He was still weak.

His vision blurred—not from pain, but from frustration.

I wasn't ready. I wasn't strong enough.

He wanted to scream. To punch the ground. To demand why he was so powerless.

But he did none of that.

Instead, he stood.

His body screamed in protest, but he ignored it.

His arm bled, his ribs ached, his legs shook, but he refused to stay down.

Because he knew one thing.

He wouldn't let this happen again.