We proceed deeper into the area, towards a town that ended up in the spherical barrier, which a few minutes ago, has millions of mortals, but is now silent, save for one very powerful aura. The town appears not unlike a normal human city, well, a larger one anyways, brightly lit in the distance by colorful lights and bill boards. The aura is simply staggering, unbelievably huge. A powerful foe awaits me there.

I think I know who's aura that is, but it seems unlikely. He'd have to have a lot of audacity to show up after he helped Hatred. There's no way it could be him...

Either way, a powerful foe awaits us there.

"Hey Reaper?" I ask.

"Yeah?" he replies, maintaining his cold, distant attitude.

I think of a subject that will get his attention for more than two seconds and ask, "how's your training going?"

"What do you care?" I demand, desperate to avoid the subject, knowing that talking about this will only worry her. My goal is to protect her and the others. Not worry them.

"I'm curious," I lie, more concerned about a second death loop than anything else. I can see it in his face, in how he walks. He's still sick. Physically and emotionally. He needs help.

"OK," he shrugs, "I guess. I'm getting stronger, that's what matters."

"But when will you be strong enough?" I demand, "when will you be strong enough?"

"Strong enough for what?" I demand.

M.S. looks me in the eyes, tears welling up in hers,
 as she demands, "strong enough to come back to us?"

"When I'm strong enough to beat the Author," I turn away, unable to bare the pain in her face. It's just to much. I hate seeing her hurt. I ate seeing those I love hurt. I have to stop the Author. He's the one who creates plot, and plot is suffering. As an Author Slayer, I shall live by our motto, our oath.

I shall "break the pen."

"Let's keep moving," I try not to look at her, focusing so hard on the darkness, to avoid seeing the light she brings into my life, and the pain she is in.

We arrive in the city, only to be greeted by a man with a dark power seemingly rising from him, like an unholy smoke. He wears a black cloak and wields a scythe, not unlike Death, but he is not Death. For reasons known only to the Author, and his twisted imagination, he made the representations of dreams and nightmares based on me and Death, and this...

Is Nightmare.

"Hello scum," I growl.

"You got some nerve," I add, but using my tone to indicate I'm more impressed than angry, "what are you doing here?"

"Hear me out," he explains, "I know I helped Hatred, and I know I fucked that up really really badly, but keep in mind I did make a last stand against that son of a bitch. I want to rise above being a morally ambiguous character. I want to be a hero. I want to clear my name and redeem myself. Reaper, you're declaring war on writers, right?"

"I'm listening..." I smile

"I wanna join you," Nightmare explains, "I wanna be an Author Slayer."

I try to give him the universal don't signal, moving my hand back and forward in front of my neck. He smiles and winks. He's planning something.

"I won't allow that," Reaper glares, "you are an enemy of my army, and considered to be a war criminal."

Nightmare chuckles. "Oh well," he shrugs, "guess I was right. There is no right faction. That was a test, my friend, a test you failed. So, tell me..."

Nightmare begins to morph, using his power to imitate the power of our fears.

"What is it you fear boy," he voice becomes deep, powerful, and demonic as he begins to change his form...