The Extra-dimensional Pioneer Of Fiction [Draft]

Arlo moved swiftly but deliberately through Nancy's mother's room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

The faint scent of alcohol lingered in the air, mingling with stale perfume—a sign of Mrs. Thompson's oblivious slumber. Arlo gave the bed a brief glance before shaking his head.Some people could sleep through anything. He couldn't decide if that was a blessing or a curse tonight.

Pulling the duffel bag onto the desk, he began unpacking his supplies: bottles of burning extracts, small vials of essential oils, and pouches of herbal powders.

Each item clinked softly as he arranged them in a semi-circle. His hands moved on instinct, muscle memory pulling from his training and knowledge as a Seer.

He muttered under his breath, "Suspension-style ritualistic magic. It's risky, but if I get interrupted…" He left the thought unfinished. The Beyonder method he remembered allowed rituals to pause and resume while maintaining their intent—convenient when preparing to fight a literal nightmare.

Setting the stage carefully, Arlo placed three candles at precise points, forming a triangular shape on the desk. Each wick flared to life with a sharp flick of a match, their soft glow casting shadows that danced like wraiths against the walls. He pushed his unease aside and focused.

On the left side of the setup, he placed a small crucifix, surrounded by spikenard, myrrh, and frankincense—substitutes, but they'd do. On the right, he arranged a plate of salt, the silver dagger gleaming ominously beside it. He rolled out a blank piece of paper and laid a pen atop it, his tools now ready.

He let out a quiet breath and muttered, "Not perfect, but close enough." His voice was hoarse, low. He leaned back, examining the altar like a gamer checking their gear before a boss fight.

HP and MP full? Check. Items prepped? Check. Buffs active? He shook his head at his own thoughts.

I've got to stop narrating like I'm in Dark Souls.

......

Arlo entered cogitation, the air thick with the aromatic blend of herbs and essential oils. A formless whirlwind swirled gently around him, tugging at his clothes and sending shivers down his spine. Arlo's eyes darkened, their gaze penetrating, as though he could see through the veils of reality into someone's very soul.

He extended his palm and placed it firmly against the candle on the top right corner of the triangular altar.

"Jesus Christ, you are the Bright Morning Star," he chanted in Latin, his voice steady but reverent.

As he spoke, he infused the candle wick with his spirituality, a wave of energy humming against his skin. A soft glow erupted from the candle, its flame shifting to a tranquil blue amidst the dim yellow light.

Encouraged, Arlo moved to the second candle.

"Jesus Christ, you are the Author of life," he intoned. His voice grew firmer, echoing with authority.

He repeated the same process, his spirituality flowing like a stream into the wick. The candle flared to life, its glow matching the first. Arlo felt a tug of exhaustion creeping in but brushed it aside, knowing the ritual was far from complete.

The final candle represented himself—a symbolic guardian against the encroaching darkness.

"I am your loyal instrument, fending off evil and casting demons away from your flock," he declared, his tone unwavering.

A sudden whoosh filled the room as the third candle ignited. The flame was still, unyielding. Arlo allowed himself a fleeting moment of relief.

He picked up the silver dagger, its surface gleaming ominously in the flickering light. Holding it with both hands, he whispered incantations over a bowl of coarse salt and plain water. He stirred the mixture with the dagger's tip, letting his gathered spirituality merge with the purifying elements.

Moving methodically, he carried the bowl around the room, kneeling as he approached the bed. At each corner, he traced a symbol in the air with the dagger, sealing the space with an invisible barrier.

As the streetlamp's light outside the window suddenly dimmed, Arlo felt a surge of unease. Only the moon's soft glow continued to filter through, bathing the room in a silvery haze. Arlo returned to the desk, picking up the pen. 

His hands moved with precision, drawing intricate incantations and symbols onto the blank paper. Each stroke seemed to pulse with energy, the lines glinting faintly before fading into the parchment.

He placed the paper in the center of the altar and trickled drops of flower essence onto each candle. The sizzle that followed sent a faint fog curling upward, carrying an additional hint of mystery into the already charged air.

Standing back, Arlo burned a mixture of spikenard, myrrh, and frankincense, letting their fragrant smoke intertwine with the fog.

Finally, he began reciting the core incantations of suspension-style ritualistic magic.

"Our lord and savior, son of god, the Alpha and the Omega, Jesus Christ"

"I pray for your loving grace"

"I pray of the power of the Eternal Life"

"I pray for the power of the Bright Morning Star".

"I pray that you exorcise the three dream demon residing to Frederick Charles Krueger"

"I pray that you would wait for a moment, a moment for that unfortunate man"

........

"Spikenard flower, a herb that belong to Bright morning star, Please bestow your powers to my incantation".

"Myrrh flower, a herb that belong to Bright morning star, Please bestow your powers to my incantation".

"Frankincense flower, a herb that belong to Bright morning star, Please bestow your powers to my incantation".

......

The room felt heavier, the air charged with an unseen force. Arlo's heart pounded, each beat reverberating through his chest. He knew he had reached the critical point of the ritual.

Arlo took a deep breath as he finished reciting the incantation, his voice steady but the tension in his chest undeniable. Closing his eyes, he repeated the incantation seven times in his mind, each word resonating like the toll of a distant bell. Opening his eyes, he scanned the altar.

The candles flickered but held their tranquil flames, the faint mist swirling steadily around the sacred setup.

"Everything looks in place," Arlo muttered under his breath, gripping the silver dagger tightly.

A faint shimmering outline appeared where the dagger had cut, and with a soft hiss, the opening solidified. He could feel his energy waning slightly but knew it was manageable.

Glancing at his HUD: [MP: 130/185]  

"Still enough," he murmured to himself, trying to reassure his strained nerves but to just to be in a safe side it is better to keep one vial of low mana potion in his pocket.

For a fleeting moment, Arlo allowed himself to think of Nancy, the battle she was likely facing in her dream. Suddenly, muffled sounds of chaos broke through the stillness.

He turned to the door of Nancy's mother's room, pausing for a moment to center himself. Drawing on his spirituality, Arlo made the sign of the cross before lifting the dagger. With deliberate precision, he traced the shape of a door in the invisible barrier he had created earlier.

Suddenly, muffled sounds of chaos broke through the stillness.

Arlo's head snapped toward the door as he heard the unmistakable clash of noise coming from elsewhere in the house. Heavy thuds, breaking furniture, and distant, guttural laughter sent chills crawling down his spine.

He gripped the dagger tighter, his knuckles white. Nancy did it. She pulled him into the waking world.

The faint sense of dread that always accompanied his danger intuition surged, a clear warning that Freddy was now fully present in this realm.

Standing by the altar, he quickly reviewed the next steps of the ritual in his mind. His gaze darted back to the altar, ensuring all the elements were still in harmony. The faint fragrance of burning herbs filled his senses, grounding him for what was to come.

=================================================

The heavy footfalls of boots reverberated through the wooden floor, drawing closer to the room. Arlo's grip on the silver dagger tightened as his danger intuition flared, a loud warning echoing in his mind.

His heart pounded in sync with each step. He quickly ducked behind the door, his breathing steady but controlled.

The door creaked open with deliberate slowness, and Freddy Krueger appeared, his form a horrifying silhouette against the flickering light from the hall. Flames licked at his sweater, and his leather glove gleamed as if freshly polished.

Freddy turned his head toward the bed, a predatory grin spreading across his burned face as he eyed Mrs. Thompson.

Freddy turned his head toward the bed, a predatory grin spreading across his burned face as he eyed Mrs. Thompson.

The sight made Arlo's stomach twist. He's playing with her… Freddy knows she's asleep, Arlo thought, a knot forming in his throat. Acting quickly, Arlo slammed the door shut, the resounding bang drawing Freddy's attention.

He didn't wait for a reaction, spinning on his heel and kicking Freddy squarely in the chest. The force sent Freddy stumbling back, his laughter echoing like a broken record.

"Well, well, the boy's got some fight in him," Freddy sneered, his claws scraping together menacingly.

His eyes locked on Arlo, now brimming with malice. "But you're playing in my world now, kid."

"No, you are in my world now, You creepy-ass pedophile!" Arlo said

His eyes had already glazed over as he re-entered cogitation. He couldn't afford distractions—not with Freddy in the room. Dropping the vial of spikenard oil onto the nearest candle, he began chanting. 

"The Christ, the Redeemer, our Lord and Savior," Arlo intoned, his voice steady even as his hands shook slightly.

Freddy lunged at him, his claws swiping through the air, but Arlo pivoted and splashed holy water across Freddy's chest mid-movement. The reaction was instant—Freddy howled in agony, smoke curling off his blistered skin. 

"YOU BASTARD!" Freddy spat, his voice filled with venom.

He swiped wildly, forcing Arlo to retreat toward the altar. As Freddy advanced, Arlo grabbed the crucifix, thrusting it forward like a makeshift shield.

"In the name of Jesus Christ," Arlo bellowed, his voice reverberating through the room. The crucifix glowed faintly, and Freddy staggered, a flicker of fear breaking through his twisted features.

For a moment, Arlo saw three distorted faces emerge from Freddy's abdomen, their skeletal forms writhing as though trying to escape.

Nancy burst into the room, her face pale but determined. "Arlo!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos.

Arlo risked a glance at her, his mind racing. She froze at the sight of Freddy's grotesque transformation

Freddy twisted toward Nancy, a guttural growl escaping his throat. But before he could act, Arlo slammed the cross onto Freddy's chest.

"In the name of the Christ, I command you, demons, to leave!" Arlo shouted, his voice shaking but filled with resolve.

The room pulsed with energy, and the faces on Freddy's abdomen screamed in unison. Freddy flailed, his claws ripping into the walls as the air around him distorted with dark energy.

Arlo felt his MP draining rapidly, the effort of maintaining the ritual taking its toll. But there was no turning back now

[MP: 31/185]

But luckily Arlo pulled a vial of low mana potion in his pocket to replenish his MP

[MP: 131/185]

Then Arlo felt a shift in the air, a thick and oppressive presence pressing down on his chest as the three faces burst from Freddy's abdomen.

Each skeletal visage twisted in torment, their hollow eyes glowing faintly. Arlo's danger intuition screamed at him like an alarm. He gripped the crucifix tighter, raising it again toward Freddy.

Nancy's panicked voice cut through the tension. "Arlo, what's happening? What are those things?"

Freddy growled, his voice a guttural snarl as he staggered. "You think this changes anything? I AM fear! I AM Nightmare!"

"Not anymore," Arlo said, his voice low but firm, masking the exhaustion creeping into him. His MP bar blinked faintly in his HUD, reminding him of his limits.

Arlo use his [Observe] to see Freddy Krueger stats.

[Status Window]

Name: Freddy Krueger

Race: Human/Cursed

Level: 5

HP: 70/70

MP: 0/0

[Stats]

Strength: 5

Dexterity: 6

Intelligence: 7

Charisma: -20

Luck: 5

Endurance: 5

Wisdom: 7

Skills: None

Status: Weakeand

Remark: Normal Cursed Human, No longer possessing's supernatural power and can be killed through mundane means

Threat Level: Low

Seeing the stats made Arlo relieved that Freddy Krueger is no longer a threat to any of them. But he saw Freddy still alive and now be killed permanently.Freddy lunged toward Nancy, but Arlo interjected himself between them

"Get the Fuck OFF!" Arlo barked, his mind racing. He punched Freddy in his face and in his stomach. Nancy took a chair and hurled it at Freddy. It struck his back, causing him to stumble.

[Damage: 6]

[Damage: 7]

[Damage: 10]

[HP: 48/70]

Freddy clawed at the air, his voice a chilling mix of pain and fury. "I'll kill you all! One by one!"

As the light from the altar dimmed and Freddy Krueger's weakened mortal form staggered toward Nancy, the room was suddenly filled with the sound of hurried footsteps.

Detective Thompson burst into the room, his gun already drawn, the tension in his posture revealing both fear and determination.

"Dad!" Nancy exclaimed, her voice a mix of relief and urgency.

Thompson's eyes darted between Freddy, the grotesque figure cloaked in the remnants of flames, and Arlo, whose drained yet resolute expression conveyed the seriousness of the moment.

Freddy's raspy voice cut through the room like a blade.

"This isn't over, little girl," he sneered at Nancy. "As long as I breathe... as long as fear exists... I will always come back!"

"Not this time, Bitch" Arlo muttered under his breath.

Nancy clenched her fists, taking a step forward. "No, Freddy. This is the end. You've haunted me, my friends, and this town for far too long. You don't own us anymore."

"You're not taking anyone," a firm voice interjected.

Detective Thompson, steadying his aim, fired his gun. The first shot rang out, striking Freddy square in the chest.

Freddy howled in pain, his body jerking back, but his rage only seemed to deepen. "You think bullets will stop me, you pathetic—"

Bang! Bang! Bang!

More shots followed as Thompson fired repeatedly, each bullet finding its mark. Freddy's body jerked with each impact, his movements slowing until he crumpled to the ground.

Nancy clutched Arlo's arm, her breaths shallow and fast.

"Is he... is he really dead?" she asked, her voice trembling but hopeful.

Arlo stepped forward cautiously, his eyes fixed on Freddy's dead body. The charred remnants of the dream demon's influence seemed to fade, leaving behind only the fragile, broken remains of the mortal man he had once been.

Arlo let out a heavy sigh, the weight of the ordeal settling in his chest.

"Yes," he said softly. "This is the end of Freddy Krueger's reign of terror."

Detective Thompson lowered his gun, exhaling sharply as the adrenaline began to ebb. He looked at Arlo and Nancy, his gaze lingering on his daughter.

"Are you both okay?" he asked, his voice gruff but filled with concern.

Nancy nodded, her tears falling freely now.

"I think so," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "Thanks to Arlo. And for your help."

Arlo glanced back at Nancy and Thompson.

"It's over for now," he said quietly, though a faint unease lingered in his tone.

As the three of them stood in the room, the heavy silence was a welcome contrast to the chaos they had endured. Freddy Krueger, the nightmare of Springwood, was no more—or so they hoped.