'Two fucking flaws!?'
Michael paced back and forth in the cave's darkness, clenching his messy hair dyed with snow.
'Was it that divine bastard!? I'm gonna kill him!'
He walked to one side of the wall and heavily leaned his head on it.
'Was this what my Aspect meant!? Oho, you better hope you stay dead, you divine dog!'
Michael hurled back his fist and punched the wall with all his strength, producing a loud metallic impact and stirring dust into the air. Of course, he didn't punch bare-handed. His anger wasn't blinding, just damn bright.
'Don't think this armor is going to make us even!'
Michael shook in fury for a little longer before simmering down. He was nothing if not cool-headed.
He punched the wall with all his strength again, but this time, with his frail hand without the vambrace.
'Ahh! Son of a-'
Michael tightly caressed his fist and managed to finally calm down with a couple deep breaths. He was nothing if not... even-tempered.
'Better get this over with.'
He leaned his armor-cladded figure against the rocky wall and pulled up his runes once more.
___
Flaw: [Guts]
Flaw Description: [You cannot completely heal your wounds.]
___
'Ah, so it's your fault I can't heal these scars. How about I give you some?'
Throwing his childish thoughts away... Michael genuinely thought about what he just read. That Flaw... was a severe one. Cannot completely heal wounds? Wouldn't that mean that at some point, a particular wound will just stop healing after too much damage?
How much is 'cannot completely'? Does that mean a wound will only heal to 90% of the original state? Or is it more like 99%, or maybe even 99.9%?
He didn't doubt for one second that such a small difference between the latter was extremely life-changing.
Michael processed what this Flaw truly meant for him, not even realizing how much his hand was trembling. He slowly slid down the wall before continuing.
'...Alright, let's just see what the other Flaw says.'
___
Flaw: [Burden]
Flaw Description: [You cannot bear the weight of more pain.]
___
'...'
Honestly, Michael had nothing to say. His neck went limped as he burrowed his head down, covering it with his knees and cloak.
A few moments passed in miserable silence.
That explained why all the physical pain he experienced since the First Nightmare was so agonizing and excruciating. That also clarified why it hurt so much when his body repaired.
'...'
Michael slowly lifted his head up and rubbed his face. There were no vulnerable tears or helpless whimpers, just... subdued, feeble laughter.
'I truly am cursed.'
He covered his youthful face with his hands, still reeling from the suffering of having his body torn and repaired while that damned frost was still inside him, biting into him like he was sustenance. Thankfully, the spread seemed to completely stop.
Michael glanced over to the carcass still producing that revolting stench before looking further down into the tunnel, staring into the infinite abyss.
'I just... I really need some sleep. I can't be bothered to think right now.'
Michael didn't want to sleep on the ground in case anything was attracted to the fallen creature, so his best bet was to just sleep sitting.
He tugged the wool cloak more, wrapping his entire body under it. He resummoned all of the [Crimson Mantle], including the bloodied helm. He summoned [Wolf's Wrath] and loosely gripped it, ready to swing if anything came at him. Of course, he also applied [Sweet Nectar] to it, he wasn't taking any chances.
Michael laid back into the most comfortable position he could manage and closed his weary eyes, welcoming the soothing, tranquil embrace of sleep. His thoughts slowed, his imagination calmed, and his stiff muscles relaxed.
It didn't take long for him to fall asleep.
"Sweet dreams, darling."
=====
Michael suddenly woke once he felt a violent pressure bore into his gut, winding him instantly. He immediately panicked and went to grip his dagger, but it was nowhere near him.
He was in the middle of a vast, emerald meadow with rolling green hills and animals prancing in the distance. The radiant sun beamed down in the middle of an azure sky with sparse silver clouds. The sunlight was broken by a thick, lush tree standing alone above him.
Michael glanced around, noticing that he laid on a checkered towel with a basket emanating a delectable, familiar smell.
'Where am I!? Where's the cave!? The carcass!?'
He slowly looked down in bewildered horror, only to see his beloved wife laying on him. Her lustrous hair flowed in the gentle wind and her picturesque eyes shimmered with warmth and innocence.
'Oh... it's just her.'
Her angelic voice pierced his ears, making him shiver from her demanding tone.
"Why did you react like that? Tell me. Am I getting fat or something? Wait, why are you smiling?"
Michael lifted his hand to touch his jaw, only to realize he was actually grinning.
"You just woke me up from a bad dream... that's all."
She raised her eyebrow with a pensive expression.
"Hmm, ok. I'll believe you."
She leaned more of her weight into his gut before getting off. She quietly sat on the towel for a moment before falling next to Michael, well... more like on him.
Her hair chaotically spread across his face.
"Honey... not on the face please."
"Haha, apologies."
The two laid there for a while, appreciating not only the sun's warmth, but each other's. They gazed at the leaves gently flowing with the tune of the wind, brimming with energy and vigor.
The peaceful silence was interrupted when his wife moved, making Michael turn to look at her...
"What..."
Michael stared in disbelief and shock as he saw her lifeless eyes, her pale skin, her cold touch.
She was dead.
Her corpse laid still until her face suddenly twitched and her eyes locked with his. Her voice... wasn't hers.
"Why did you kill me, darling?"
Michael reeled back in terror and backed up, her stiff corpse crawling towards him with horrifying speed.
"It's so cold... come back."
He continued to clumsily back away until she suddenly leapt at him, pinning him down with tyrannical strength. She placed her slender hands around his neck and applied pressure.
"I'm sorry, darling, I just want to escape."
Michael... he couldn't break free. She was just too strong.
'No... honey...'
He tried speaking, but all that came out was gargled noises.
'It hurts... please stop...'
His eyes began to swell up with tears as his eyesight grew dizzy.
'Please... I love you...'
His vision darkened until all he saw was a cold, endless void. Amongst the darkness, the imprint of his wife's face, contorted in sorrow and weakness, was still stained in his memory.
=====
Michael fiercely woke as he recoiled in terror, gripping his dagger with panicked aggression. He quickly stumbled onto his feet and prepared a flimsy battle stance, waiting for anything to approach.
Yet there was nothing.
His breathing was shallow as he uncontrollably trembled. He could feel his racing heartbeat in his pained chest, making his throat feel tight like something was stuck.
It felt like he was about to die.
It took him a few moments to finally realize he was safe, lowering the weapon and dismissing his helm.
'That nightmare... how?'
Michael... somehow had a nightmare as a sleeper. How was that possible?
'That... figure.'
In his nightmare, it looked like he was having a picnic with a... with a void. There was someone there, but it seemed like their entire existence was erased, leaving a hole in reality. He could hear whispers that beckoned him closer, and it looked... eerily similar to the figure he saw when that warmth suddenly enveloped him back when he nearly died.
'It was her...'
Michael recognized the place in his nightmare, it was a place he had a picnic with his wife. He touched his neck, the feeling of being strangled still fresh in his mind. Even the... guilt and sorrow was familiar.
'How? How can I have a nightmare as a sleeper? That's... there's no way that's possible. And why did it have to be her?'
He rubbed his face before looking at the blizzard outside, still raging with unending fury.
'It doesn't seem like it's going to end anytime soon.'
Michael turned his gaze to the abyss further down the cave, exuding an unsettling chill making his hair stand on end.
'I have a bad feeling...'
Growing up in the outskirts, it wasn't uncommon to develop some sort of keen instinct on danger. Although he was a cunning rat, that instinct was flaring up like never before, almost unnaturally.
He had three options to choose, each having their own risks.
Michael could venture out into the violent snowy shroud and take his chances on finding food and supplies out there, but that didn't seem plausible. It was simply too dangerous to bet his life on the chance there were nightmare creatures he could eat to not only satiate his hunger, but also to stop the frost from spreading. He doubted he could even find shelter before sundown.
His second option would be to merely wait out the blizzard in this cave. That was probably the safest and best choice, but that was if the storm stopped anytime soon. Considering it didn't appear to be thinning, Michael would probably starve to death or collapse from dehydration long before outside is safe.
His last choice, the most deadliest of them all, would be to explore further down the cave. Hopefully, he could sustain himself on nightmare creatures and find some sort of underground water. Of course, it was still the riskiest option, but it also seemed the most appropriate.
'A cold death, a slow death, or a hopeless death? Damn it all.'
He was torn between his choices until he squirmed from a sharp pain biting into his side. The frost was still there, as furious as ever.
Michael turned and stared into the darkness, a faint light shimmering against the cave as his helmet appeared from ethereal sparks.
He had already made his choice.