Cato strolled through a burning village. Tight mail armor hugged his skin, covering all his vitals while allowing free movement. Tiny symbols carved on the armor reflected the moonlight, indicating there was more to the rugged armor than what met the eye.

  Dark smoke rose from the house's roofs, coalescing in a black cloud hovering over the place. A putrid smell filled his nostrils. Loud cries for help rang out from the houses. Coal-colored specters darted on the roads, unsure of where to go, where to escape to. They looked like the passing remains of a person dipped in ink rolling on giant pavements, silhouettes of flesh. Cato's steps stayed calm and collected, remaining steadfast without flinching at a single sudden scream. That wasn't the first time such a sight had greeted him, and it wouldn't be the last. His gaze didn't budge from the individual before him.

  The being clad in a dark robe, obscuring its features, had a slight hunch but still towered over him by several heads. A disguise that may fool a senile passing onlooker but once it opened its mouth there was no way of hiding its nature.

  "Greetings, high Venator." The thing spoke, revealing two rows of yellow, sharpened teeth that grew from dark gray gums. The words came out with a guttural sound.

  Cato's face remained a mask, showcasing no particular emotion. The nightmare-creating myths were scavengers—exploiters of weaknesses in the human mind and, for him, a necessary evil. Near instantaneous communication, possible through a mark left by the myth, had simply too much utility.

  "You know how much I dislike this memory. Regardless, I find myself here again. Are you antagonizing me, Alp?" Displeasure showed on the Venator's face as he reprimanded his handler.

  The thing's face, poorly hidden under a dark hood, contorted in a grimace.

  "Of course not. I wouldn't dare, high Venator."

  A shrill cry—a woman's scream for help—echoed over their conversation. Cato's eyes turned dark and threatening, and his soul began to hum. The myths had more power in dreams than they liked to admit.

  The Alp held his arms in defense, which ended in four wicked claws each, cowering before the shorter human.

  "I can't choose the dream. The only thing I can guarantee is that it will always be a nightmare."

  Cato crossed his arms.

  "Tenebris can control it."

  At the mere mention of the name, the Alp shuddered.

  "Tenebris is a monster."

  "Perhaps, but so are you."

  Cato let out a sigh. He had made his position clear. All the while, his hand never left the hilt of his sword.

  "You bring new orders?"

  The Alp nodded, eager to leave the man behind.

  "Yes, a slaying mission. The diviners suspect the emergence of a calamity. The high Venator is expected to head to a mining town a few weeks north of Sinu as swiftly as possible." The creature had stopped talking with its vocal cords, instead resorting to creating an echo resounding around the man. A strange sound like the rustling of the wind filled the air to form the words.

  The man arched an eyebrow.

  "No."

  The myth laughed or more accurately the dreamscape itself did, slightly shivering like an earthquake while unpleasant laughter reverberated straight through Cato's body. It served one clear message, it was in charge and not the puny human.

  "You are expected to..."

  "No."

  The Alp’s left eye twitched in a surprisingly human gesture. Its irises shone yellow.

  The nightmare began to fester as skin draped itself over the specters, creating harrowing human features contorted by panic and fear. A icy wind pushed against the Venator.

  The sounds of fire crackling echoed around the duo, turning the scenery vivid and less dreamlike. The Alp licked his lips, awaiting the harvestable fear of the intimidation it sowed.

  Its glowing eyes bulged. There were none. Standing in a nightmare of his own making, the man didn't seem fazed. His heart rate had not increased. The organ beat steady as if he were taking a leisure stroll.

  Cato tapped his index finger against the hilt of his sword as his presence skyrocketed, exuding pure and unrestrained power.

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  The sound of a fingernail clicking against metal overrode all other noise.

  "This will end poorly for you," he asserted a fact.

  The Venator's soul hummed at a higher frequency, battling an uphill battle against the myth’s powers in their own domain and winning.

  "Why are the new ones always so undisciplined?" He cracked his neck.

  "Well, of course, I'm the one in need to rectify it. Sometimes it feels like no is doing their work here anymore."

  All of the Alp's senses screamed at him that the man would end it instantly. In a sudden epiphany, it realized why the previous Alp had been so eager to switch charges. Next it made one of the smartest decisions of its life as it quickly removed the pull on its power, desolidifying the dream. The humans dissolved into shadows again, and most of the sounds vanished, making the surroundings eerily quiet.

  "It's always the same with your kind, unable to fight your instincts. Hungry for fear at every opportunity."

  Cato tsked. A silver flash and the Venator's cold sword pressed against the myth's throat.

  "Excusssseee my behavior, high Venatorrrr." The myth's articulation suffered as the sword didn't move.

  Cato remained merciless.

  "No, I will not. Now, fetch me, Lucia."

  The myth, a being of terror and messenger for the Venatores, gulped. Whatever stood in front of him was definitely not human. Typically, it had leeway inside the dream realm, the power to conjure or influence nightmares. Nothing of that sort appeared possible at the moment. The area around the man, no thing in human skin, completely evaded its control. Powerlessness crept up its body as its innate aspects got suppressed.

  "Cccouncccilwoman Flaviusss? Are you cccertain?"

  Cato shooed the Alp away.

  "Hurry, I don't enjoy my time being wasted."

  An invisible pressure lifted from the surroundings. Suddenly, the Alp regained control of his powers, vanishing mere moments later.

  The Venator left to his own devices, stretched his arms, and waited. Already, he calculated the rations, weapons, and potions he would need for the assignment. He mustered his home village, searching for the familiar crate he had hidden decades ago. Would he find his younger self in it? Cato didn't care. It was the musings of a bored man. For all he knew, had you witnessed one nightmare, then you had seen all of them. So, he let the village burn.

  Sure enough, the myth returned with a woman. She was petite and looked like a child next to the enormous but slim limbs of the Alp. Lucia Flavius held her back straight despite the first signs of age, coloring her hair white. Her eyes housed a shining fire and authority that came with the habit of being obeyed. A few scales protruding from under her toga hinted at the nature of her contract. She clicked her forked tongue.

  "Is this truly necessary, Cato? We would have sent a dossier."

  The woman walked towards him, halting only a few steps apart. Both parties sat down simultaneously as if instructed by a silent command.

  "Call me overcautious, but I would like to hear the information before accepting the mission to exterminate a calamity."

  The greatest diviner in the empire folded her hands in her lap, looking utterly nonthreatening. An appearance that didn't fool anyone. She was after all one of the heads of the Venatores, a position that required much more than mere political acumen.

  "You have my ear." A sly smile played around her lips. "Ask away."

  The Alp, meanwhile, distanced itself from the duo, slowly itching away without making a single noise that could have caught the two monsters' attention. Whatever happened between them wasn't anything it had any business with. It was only a messenger. Everything else remained outside its duties.

  The high Venator cleared his throat.

  "What kind of calamity?"

  "The threads of fate are tangled. There is no guarantee of a solid reading, but the divinations point to a sudden spike in threat level, which grows overwhelming shortly after."

  "Exponential growth then."

  Lucia, one of the twelve council members of the high venatorean Senate, inclined her head, indicating that she shared his suspicions.

  "The least worst or worst kind of calamity."

  The man looked into the dream's blurry sky, unable to fully replicate the real world with only the moon sharing a semblance of its real world counterpart.

  "How much time do we have?"

  The female contract holder followed his gaze.

  "The pattern shifts, and predictions become more unreliable by the day. Sometimes, it's three months before it turns unstoppable. Other times five till Sinu and Cosa get eradicated."

  The myth hunter processed the information, deducting the travel time from the apocalypse event. He would have to push his subordinates ruthlessly.

  "Any known or expected characteristics?"

  "No, but its growth always soars once it reaches Sinu. For its form, all I perceive is a vast outline as tall as a mountain with various limbs."

  Cato drew his conclusions from her statement, contemplating possible hunting tactics if the beast truly preyed on humans.

  Lucia raised her eyebrow after the elongated silence.

  "Is that all?"

  Cato shook his head.

  "Which squads have taken the assignment?"

  "One currently, Brutus's. We have lost contact with them approximately three weeks after arriving at the myth's assumed habitat."

  The man let out a deep breath.

  "One? What happened, Lucia? This is a calamity we are talking about."

  Wrinkles showed on the woman's forehead.

  "There have been other considerations, political ones. Still, the council considers the threat as severe, otherwise, we wouldn't be sending you."

  Cato pressed his lips into a thin line.

  "Since when do Venatores get involved in politics?"

  The councilwoman answered with a sharp look, indicating that he had overstepped.

  "That worry is not your prerogative. The Venatores have always been involved in politics. It just takes a specific level of threat to the empire for us to take action."

  Cato stayed silent, gathering his thoughts. What would spook the council to the degree that they had limited resources to throw at an accursed calamity? Multiple scenarios came to his mind while the frequency of myth appearances had exploded over the last year, there had to be more to it. A thought crossed his mind, a dangerous consideration, not for himself but the empire.

  "The dragon sovereign has he conceived...?"

  Rage simmered in the oracle's eyes.

  "It's the worm tyrant to you."

  A few years ago, Cato would have retorted with fire of his own. Now, he shook his head.

  "Semantics," his answer was barely a whisper, but he knew the councilwoman had perceived it. Her demeanor told him all he needed to know anyway. A bloody war was brewing on the horizon, and he wanted no part.