Blaze stared into the shimmering air, his vision flickering between the reality of the room and the glowing, ethereal script of the status interface. He blinked, and the text turned a sharp, violent red.
Flaw: [Self-Innocence]
Description: [The innocence of the creature you kill will be your suffering for a duration.]
Blaze felt a cold pit form in his stomach. Crap, he thought, the weight of the words sinking in. This is worse than I imagined. Every living thing has its own balance of innocence and sin. If I'm forced to swallow the weight of their lives every time I strike, how the hell am I supposed to adjust to that?
Before he could spiral further into the logistics of his new curse, a booming, discordant voice erupted in his mind. It was the voice of the Nightmare Spell, echoing with the finality of a closing tomb.
[Wake up, HellSlayer.]
**********
Blaze surged into consciousness, his lungs burning as he gasped for air. He was no longer on a cold altar or a blood-slicked deck; he was lying on a stiff, sterile bed. He immediately felt the resistance of heavy metal. His wrists and ankles were bound by thick chains anchored to the bedframe.
With a snarl of primal instinct, he strained against the links, the memory of Barnes and the torture room still fresh in his marrow. He tried to rip the metal apart, his muscles coiling with a strength he hadn't possessed before the awakening.
"Okay, calm down. You passed your Nightmare."
The voice was cool, detached, and vibrated with a strange, underlying power. Blaze froze, his gaze darting toward the source.
Standing by the door was a woman in a crisp government uniform. She had raven-black hair that fell like a shadow over her shoulders and eyes the color of arctic ice. Blaze recognized her instantly from the depths of his memories—it was Master Jet.
However, seeing her in person was different. To Blaze's new, heightened senses, her soul looked... wrong. She was enveloped in a thick, suffocating red aura, and he could see her Soul Core. It wasn't solid; it was leaking energy, riddled with spider-web cracks as if it were a vessel held together by sheer will. Is this explained in the later arcs? he wondered, his mind racing. Her core is literally falling apart.
Jet looked at him, her icy blue eyes scanning his frantic expression. "Must have been quite the nightmare, huh? Tell me your name, kid. I'm Master Jet, here on behalf of the government."
Blaze looked at her in confusion, his voice rasping in his throat. "Didn't you know already?" He paused, realizing his surroundings were completely unfamiliar. How did my body end up here? I can't remember being transported.
"You were found lying unconscious outside," Jet said, her tone softening slightly. "No one could identify you. You were a ghost in the system."
"Blaze," he finally managed, the name feeling like a reclaimed shield. "My name is Blaze."
Jet gave a sharp, professional nod. "Congratulations, Sleeper Blaze. You survived your First Nightmare. Now, go and shower. You reek of it."
Blaze nodded, a small, weary smile tugging at his lips. He was alive.
*******
The shower felt like it lasted for eons. He stood under the steaming water, letting it scrub away the phantom sensation of maggots and salt. When he finally stepped out and looked into the fogged mirror, he stopped.
His physique had been completely transformed. His body was toned, corded with lean muscle that spoke of explosive power. His hair was still black, but he carried himself with a predatory grace that hadn't been there before. He looked like a warrior forged in the very hell he had just escaped.
As he finished dressing, he heard a low mumble of voices. He stepped into the main living area and saw a young man walking in. He was short, pale, and had a look of perpetual guardedness. It was Sunny.
Sunny stopped, his dark eyes narrowing as he sized Blaze up. For a long moment, the two of them just stared—the protagonist of this world and the man who had survived an Angel's pact.
"What are you staring at, bastard?" Sunny snapped, his voice dripping with his characteristic thorns.
Blaze sighed internally. Yeah, the personality matches the book. "Wondering how a shorty jerk like you can talk to a shadow," Blaze replied coolly.
Sunny's eyes widened, his skin paling even further. He opened his mouth to retort, his shadow dancing irritably at his feet. "Look, jerk, I have things to care about and my own problems to deal with, alright?"
Blaze didn't push him. The last thing he wanted was to trigger Sunny's legendary paranoia, especially since the boy was the center of this world's storm. He simply turned and left the room.
******
Blaze donned the standard-issue government uniform—a stark, functional grey—and made his way to the cafeteria. He spotted Jet and Sunny sitting at a corner table and slid into the empty seat beside them.
"Sorry, a bit late," Blaze muttered. He didn't wait for a response before he began to wolf down the bowl of gruel in front of him. It was bland, but his body screamed for fuel. He was ravenous, eating with a desperate intensity.
Jet waited until he had scraped the bottom of the bowl before she spoke. "I hope you've finished."
Blaze nodded, wiping his mouth.
"Then I'll begin," Jet said, leaning forward. "As per protocol, I am obligated to inform you of a few things. It's mostly a formality. First of all, concerning your Nightmare…" She glanced at both of them and sighed, a rare moment of weariness crossing her face. "You are entitled to receive free psychological counseling. No matter what traumatic experience you encountered, there is no shame in asking for help. Your mind is as important as your body. Interested?"
Both Sunny and Blaze shook their heads simultaneously.
Jet shrugged. "As you wish. You can also talk to me, unofficially. Was it very hard?"
Sunny leaned back, his gaze distant. "It was simultaneously much worse than I expected and exactly as bad as I expected."
Jet nodded, satisfied with the cryptic answer. "That's a good attitude. What about you, Blaze?"
Blaze felt the phantom weight of the iron chains on his shoulders. "It was hell," he said shortly.
Jet looked at him with a flicker of genuine concern. "Was it worse than average?"
"Yeah," Blaze replied. "But I managed."
"That's good," Jet said, a hint of pride in her voice. "Us outskirt rats are way more resilient than people think."
Sunny looked at her in genuine surprise. "Master Jet… you grew up in the outskirts?"
She grinned, the expression making her look younger and more dangerous. "What? You can't tell because of my exquisite manners and polished exterior?"
Sunny blinked, clearly taken aback. "I couldn't tell at all. Are there many people like us among the Awakened?"
Jet's smile vanished instantly. "No. There aren't. In fact, we can be counted on one hand."
The silence at the table grew heavy. Blaze broke it. "So… what happens now? What else are you obligated to tell us?"
Jet leaned back, clicking her tongue. "That's basically it. There are additional hoops to jump through regarding family, but I've read your files—neither of you has anyone to notify. The only thing left is to decide how you'll prepare for your first journey into the Dream Realm."
She checked her communicator and grimaced. "Your luck is exceptionally bad. There isn't much time. You're free to do what you want—no one is forcing you to enroll. You could go out and party until the lights go out if you choose."
Blaze looked Jet dead in the eye. "I'm not in the mood for parties. What's the most viable option for survival?"
"The Awakened Academy," Jet answered. "They'll provide food, lodging, and preparatory classes. This late in the year, you won't learn everything, but it's better than going in blind. More importantly, you'll meet the people who will enter the Dream Realm with you. Some might become your companions for life."
Sunny and Blaze looked at each other for a brief second, a silent understanding passing between them.
"Yeah," they said in unison. "I want to go to the Academy."