Sunny, Nephis, and Yuki walked down a long corridor. Silence followed them, a persistent and inseparable companion guiding the trio through the sterile hallway.
As they reached the end, Sunny felt it: the presence of hundreds of living shadows. They hit him like a river in flood, their overflowing and uncontrollable emotions crashing against him.
Crossing the threshold, the three found themselves in a vast hall illuminated by artificial lights, filled with hundreds of other Sleepers. Young men and women, all roughly their age, were waiting for the induction ceremony to begin. As they entered, countless eyes and shadows turned curiously toward the newcomers.
'No, thanks. I'd rather drink hemlock. They must have some around here somewhere,' Sunny thought as he stepped inside. He had never had trouble making friends before, but now, overwhelmed by the tidal wave of sensations hitting him through his Shadow sense, he felt profoundly out of place.
These teenagers—anxious to know, to ask, and to share—made his apparent calm feel like a lie. There were malicious glares and innocent gazes in equal measure. A part of him felt a pang of sorrow, knowing that the number of survivors from this year's branch would likely be counted on the fingers of a single hand.
<
'I don't know. I already have a handle on how my Flaw works. I practiced in front of the police station mirror, remember? You were there. It's not that different from [Clear Conscience] at its core.'
<
Steeling himself, Sunny took a breath and stepped forward. Nephis immediately drifted off on her own. Yuki, however, continued to follow him, her expressionless gaze fixed on him as if he were an instruction manual on how to navigate this unknown landscapes.
The hall was filled with every type of person, divided into their respective social cliques. In one corner, a group of girls discussed the latest fashion trends. In another, boys bragged about the Dreamscape and other trivialities. There was even a Sleeper surrounded by a crowd of girls who seemed to want much more than just a conversation. The high-profile Legacy clan members, of course, had their own exclusive circle.
Sunny moved through the crowd, talking to whoever crossed his path. The conversations went something like this:
"Look at all these young people. How many do you think will return from the Dream Realm? How many will perish? What do you think our own chances of survival are?"
"I don't know, man! And frankly, I don't give a-"
Or:
"I even received an armor-type Memory in my Nightmare. It's an enchanted robe. Would you like to see?"
"I didn't ask you."
Or:
"Then those lowlifes began to rob the bodies. It was disgusting! They even took their shoes! What kind of degenerate would take a dead man's shoes?"
"Were they good sneakers?"
"Ehm... I guess so?"
"Then you have your answers."
Some interactions were slightly more successful:
"What kind of woman is your type?"
"Big-booty goths."
"My brother!"
<
Others asked things that were... significantly weirder:
"Can you please step on me?"
"What?! Nooo, DUDE!"
By the time he was done, Sunny had managed to build a relatively neutral reputation. By avoiding talking about himself as much as possible, he also managed to avoid being labeled as either a pervert or a complete outcast. He was just... him.
***
Sunny moved through the compound where the Sleepers were gathered, waiting for the induction ceremony to begin. The young shadow drifted through the hall, speaking to whoever crossed his path while analyzing the hierarchy forming within the various social circles. It was impossible to ignore—his Shadow sense continued to pelt his mind with a relentless barrage of sensory data.
<
'Hang in there, bud. I need to keep it active just a little longer,' Sunny encouraged him, weathering the data dump significantly better than his own Flaw.
Retreating from the crowd to catch his breath, Sunny leaned against the wall and reflected on his findings.
'Okay. I think I finally have the full picture regarding my Flaw,' he mused, cupping his chin with his right hand. The left hand resting on his right arm crease.
The Cricket, who was currently on the floor trying to shake off the dizziness, gave him a shaky thumbs-up, momentarily unable to provide a verbal response.
'My Flaw is functionally identical to [Clear Conscience], with one major exception: you, my little friend.' Sunny shifted his internal gaze to where the Cricket was.
The Cricket, still bent double, gestured for him to continue, ignoring its own temporary indisposition.
'The restrictions and penalties are the same. But as for you, my loquacious and omnipresent friend...'
<
'You... are optional. You can't actually force me to do anything. You can only nudge me to be the best version of myself, or push me where you know I'm capable of excelling. Aside from motivational speeches and cold logic, you have no other tools at your disposal. You're exactly like the fable you're named after.'
<
Sunny's gaze shifted, locking onto one Legacy in particular.
It was a young man with brown hair and cold green eyes, a proud, confident smile etched onto his face. He had a well-developed, athletic build, and his posture radiated an air of nobility tempered by a hint of friendly humor.
'Enter Caster.' He thought coldly.
His [Child of War] attribute hummed in approval. It suggested that, unlike the vast majority of Sleepers in the room, this one was a worthy adversary—though still far from the league of Yuki or Nephis. Through his Shadow sense, Sunny noticed something peculiar: Caster's shadow seemed more sensitive to the flow of time than others, as if the sand in his hourglass fell faster whenever it was agitated.
A twisted smile appeared on Sunny's lips. 'It's showtime.' He thought and took a step forward.
The Jiminy Cricket pulled a pair of rather flashy sunglasses from its back pocket. <
***
Meanwhile, as our Divine shadow embarked on his social adventures in the Awakened Academy, along the cold metropolitan streets of NQSC...
A stunning woman with short raven-black hair and piercing blue eyes was speeding across the smooth asphalt on board her PTV.
Reaching for her communicator in the glove compartment to the right of the steering wheel, Jet slowly dialed a number.
The communicator rang incessantly, waiting for the call to come through.
When finally someone answered...
"Yes, it's me. The boy got through his First Nightmare without any problems, his Aspect is shadow-related. I can't tell you anything else." Jet said with a stern, cold voice.
Soul Reaper paused for a moment, her grip on the wheel suddenly tightened. Her voice filled with unspeakable terror.
"His shadow..." Jet tried to say. "His shadow started moving again."
These were the only words Soul Reaper could utter as she fought the terror that gripped her, trying not to get distracted while driving her PTV.
Silence fell on the other end of the communicator line. You could hear heavy breathing and a deathly quiet.
Whatever Jet was trying to say to the other side of the call, it got the message. And from the looks of it, it hasn't been a pleasant one.