A Nightmare

"Where the f*** am I?"

The words fell from Lysander's lips were swallowed by the heavy darkness surrounding him. 

"What kind of place is this?" Lysander said while blinking like a startled owl.

He stood motionless as his feet planted firmly on...what? Solid ground? A black hole? His favorite BD@# club? A definite sense of unease crept up his spine.

"Save me, somebody!" A pitiful cry reached Lysander's ears, raising the hair on the back of his neck.

Cries of fear and agony reverberated, each one more desperate than the last. Amidst the human screams, sinister laughter joined the discordance - the hoarse, malicious chuckles of otherworldly creatures. 

Their laughter was a haunting melody, toning with the tormented cries, prowling through the rubble were creatures so hideously ugly; grotesque forms reveling in the commotion.

"Help me!" A feeble plea reached Lysander's ears.

The monsters' laughter grew more frantic, as if their prey's fear fueled grotesque joy. "Please, someone! Help! Monsters...they...are...everywhere..."

The voices drowned in invisible carnage Lysander could neither see nor join, struggling, unable to move or react beyond standing helpless. 

The encircling darkness began to fade. Despite his uncontrollable eyes, Lysander observed the unfolding scene.

Revealing a landscape transformed by violence.

Homes lay in flaming ruins, trees snapped like toothpicks.

And the fire—the fire raged with insatiable greed, consuming everything it touched with hungry flames. Everywhere he looked, flames danced over the ruins, reflected in Lysander's wide, terror-stricken eyes.

It was a scene of destruction so complete, the air itself seemed to be smoking.

Not just a skirmish, but the aftermath of a fierce and brutal conflict leaving only painful memories and the stench of burnt dreams behind. 

Even as his vision cleared, Lysander could only witness the devastation surrounding him. As the ruined world appeared, his eyes quickly gazed over the destruction.

Hideous beings prowled the battlefield, appearances a grotesque parody of nature.

Horns reached into the ashen sky, skin hardened by night itself, glowing with malevolence felt from afar. With each step, the ground beneath them turned black - their very presence an abomination.

The men and women who had faced countless dangers were now in desperate flight. Despair filled their faces, eyes wide with fear, all traces of former severity gone. As they tried to escape the relentless monster horde, voices cracked with terror, calling for help.

These were not inexperienced recruits shaken by their first combat experience. They were veterans hardened with scars and calluses from past battles. But now they stumbled, their worn armor providing no comfort against the supernatural enemies that hunted them.

Lysander's war-buddies were now prey to these hideous beasts. Faces etched with scars of harsh lives twisted in fear as they desperately fled the merciless onslaught. 

Even the old-timers who'd seen their share of battles were reduced to trembling messes, clinging to their lucky charms and amulets, perhaps hoping for protection from gods who had abandoned this desolate place. 

The horrific scene stood in vivid contrast against the background of fire and destruction, highlighting the seriousness of their plight. A tragic sight for Lysander, trapped motionless.

Amidst the chaos, a green beast raised its clawed hand and slammed it to the ground in a merciless blow. The hunter below, armor once shining with pride, now crumpled like parchment by otherworldly forces. 

The creature leaned forward, seeming to savor the flicker of fear in the man's eyes - a tastier feast. It then began tearing apart his flesh with claws.

"Lysander...we need you!"

"Lysander, get your ass over here!"

"Lysander, save me!" A young hunter cried, her bow broken, backed into a corner as a beast approached with grim fangs bared. 

"Fight, damn you!" Someone else yelled, a mixture of anger and fear in their voice, no doubt aimed at the restrained Lysander.

"I wish all your gold turns to lead!"

"I hope your socks get permanently crunchy!"

"You dork what are you staring at!"

"Shithead, I hope your ale is forever watered down!"

"May you trip over your own shoelaces!"

"Lysander, let's get out of here and go on a date!"

"Lysander, I want to bear your child, please save me!"

"I hope your toast always lands butter-side down!"

"I child but I promise I will warm your bed."

"Motherf#@ker, I will chase you down in the depths of hell!"

He heard them all - pleading, cursing, spouting nonsense. But he couldn't answer their calls. Couldn't help them. His muscles refused to obey, limbs frozen in an invisible vice. Helpless, he struggled against the unseen bonds.

The violent chaos of the battlefield suddenly shifted, drawing Lysander's attention to a young man's plight. 

A grey monster with a large X-shaped mark on its chest attacked a young warrior, seemingly in his early 20s, sending him tumbling through the air like a ragdoll. His body crumpled to the scorched earth, one arm and leg terrifyingly missing.

"Ryan," Lysander whispered, the name a ghostly breath.

It was Ryan, a skilled hunter and Lysander's closest friend, left defenseless, his face contorted in disbelief. In the flickering light, Ryan's eyes opened once more, his voice cutting through the chaos - hoarse but filled with despair.

"Lys...sword..."His gaze landed on the weapon just steps away as his muscles tensed, a silent battle raging within his body. 

But despite his inner determination, his limbs remained frozen as the demon closed in deliberately, sinisterly. Their eyes met, a silent cry locked in Ryan's gaze as he futilely scratched backwards in a dance with death that had already chosen its partner.

"Help...Me...please!" Another desperate plea, as if every word was torn from Ryan's battered throat.

"Move...damn it!" Lysander gritted his teeth, straining to break free from the invisible chains restraining him. 

But despite the storm of inner determination, his limbs remained stiff as marble statues, refusing to obey his urgent commands.

The demon's grotesque hand encircled Ryan's leg, effortlessly lifting and slamming him to the ground with thunderous impact. Ryan coughed blood as the monster wrecked his body, spraying crimson into the hot air. 

Looming over its prey, the demon let out a horrible laugh mocking humanity itself. It pressed against Ryan's leg with deliberate malice, the crunch of shattering bones merging with his agonized screams.

"Stop!" Lysander's pleas fell on deaf ears as the creature reveled in brutality, tearing at Ryan's flesh with claws designed to inflict torturous pain. Ryan's screams escalated into a haunting wail that would haunt even the darkest nightmares.

Lysander's face contorted in helpless anger, his eyes burning with rage-fueled fire and reflecting the hell consuming the once-peaceful settlement. In a show of pure brutality, the creature grabbed Ryan's head and, with a sickening jolt, ended the young warrior's suffering, consuming the essence of his defiance. 

Tears of anger and sadness rolled down Lysander's cheeks, his entire being screaming for revenge, but his bonds were unbreakable. The monster's gaze fell on him with smug satisfaction, eyes flashing a malicious grin as it uttered a mocking taunt in its black tongue, sending a shiver down Lysander's spine. He silently admitted the creature was mocking him, taking pleasure in his inability to understand.

Then the beast turned and retreated. Suddenly free from his invisible prison, Lysander's arm instinctively reached out, prepared to pounce and exact vengeance. But the feeling quickly disappeared, and he was again a prisoner of his own body, outstretched arm trembling cruelly, mocking his desperate intentions.

A heavy obsidian veil swept across the battlefield, engulfing the fiery chaos and blurring Lysander's vision. The air grew thick once more, an unsettling silence filling his chest as the shadows strangled him, pulling him back into the abyss.

In the deepest darkness, a faint, flickering light pierced the veil, and ghostly figures materialized before him. Ryan stood among them, his youthful face marked with the shock and pain of his final moments, an eerie calmness replacing the horror. 

The ghostly figures moved their mouths, voices lost between life and death. But their expressions imprinted their message directly into Lysander's consciousness - a mass of regret, sadness and anger, accusing him of failing them.

A deep silence fell over the ghostly group, and then Lysander felt it – a cold grip around his ankle. 

Glancing down in horror, "What in the hell..." he muttered, seeing pale, withered hands emerging from the ground, their rotting grip tightening around his limbs.

Lysander felt dread as the darkness melted away again, revealing a heartbreaking scene. The battlefield was littered with the lifeless bodies of his comrades, twisted faces frozen in terror, bodies bearing indescribable marks of demonic cruelty.

Suddenly more hands burst forth from the blood-soaked ground, mud-caked fingers grasping at him with insatiable hunger. Bony claws clutched his face, back, arms - their icy grip clinging, threatening to tear him apart.

Despair tightened around his throat as the undead fingers strengthened their hold, their cold touch a dark reminder of the fate that might befall him if he didn't break free. The ethereal forms of Ryan and the others slowly dissolved.

"Ryan!" Lysander cried out.

But then another pair of greedy hands burst forth and grabbed his balls and melons, sending a shiver down his spine as they started dragging him down, the earth crumbling open like the jaws of a great beast.

"Ryan–" His voice broke as the suffocating darkness loomed, engulfing him in its cold embrace. Then, with a violent jerk – 

"Argh!" Lysander's body jerked upright, lungs gasping for air. 

"J-just a dream..." he muttered...