Sora let out a long breath as the weight of reality settled back onto his shoulders.
Glancing at the mirror on the dresser, he noticed his Selenic Veil and his dagger were gone, replaced by the ordinary clothes he'd been wearing before he left.
That was normal. You didn't keep the skills or items you obtained in the Spiritual Realm, though your core's stage progression carried over.
Beyond that, many Awakened could still cast spells or use techniques they'd learned there. The only thing that changed was the absence of the system interface.
What did catch his eye, though, was his reflection. His electric violet eyes were still there, burning with a supernatural intensity in the dim light of the room.
That didn't surprise him either. It was common to develop some physical change upon awakening inside the Spiritual Realm, and when you returned to the mortal world, the only thing that stayed were the eyes.
He glanced at the digital clock on his nightstand. The red numbers blinked calmly: only 21 minutes had passed.
The time disparity was one of the golden rules every Awakened learned. One hour on Earth equaled twelve hours in the Spiritual Realm.
To the outside world, Sora had barely shut himself in his room for a moment.
He listened to the silence of the house. His mother, who worked late, still hadn't come home.
No uncomfortable questions for now, no explanations to give about his awakening. All he'd have to do was tell her he had awakened a skill, and leave it at that.
Sora dropped onto the mattress. The softness of the sheets felt strange after hours surrounded by tall grass and whetstones.
He closed his eyes and felt the accumulated exhaustion of hours of fighting finally pull him under.
He was asleep before the clock hit minute 22.
***
The smoky scent of crispy bacon and the gentle aroma of freshly cooked eggs drifted through the air, seeping under Sora's door and finding him before he was fully awake.
He opened his eyes slowly, blinking through the heaviness. Outside the window, the morning sunlight filtered in with a warm, lazy quality, drawing dust motes that drifted and danced through the air above his tangled sheets.
He sat up sluggishly, a strange lightness in his body. He rubbed his knuckles against his eyes, trying to shake off the fog, and his gaze landed on the digital clock.
[9:12]
Sora went still for a moment, hand still at his face. He was genuinely surprised by the time. He was usually an early riser, but it seemed the toll of all those hours in the Spiritual Realm had caught up with his physical body.
He'd slept far longer than usual, a clear sign that, even if leveling up had healed his wounds, his mind still needed time to process the intensity of the fight against the Elite Lunar Boar.
He stood with a long, full-body yawn that stretched every muscle along his back.
He walked barefoot down the hall, where the steady sizzle of the pan grew clearer, accompanied by the faint clink of silverware.
His mother must have gotten home from work.
When he stepped into the kitchen, the scene was warm and familiar. Morning light flooded the room, brightening the white tiles.
"Good morning, Mom," he said through another yawn, scratching the back of his neck and shuffling his feet.
A woman with jet-black hair pulled neatly into a low bun turned at the sound of his voice. She wore a clean white apron over her house clothes and held a spatula in one hand.
When she saw Sora, her deep blue eyes lit up with genuine warmth, and a wide smile spread across her tired but radiant face.
"Sweetheart! You're up," she said softly. "I hope the noise from the kitchen didn't wake you."
His mother was, as always, the steady calm at the center of his life. Sora pulled out a chair at the wooden table and rubbed his eyes one last time, trying to fully wake up.
"Don't worry about it. I'd slept plenty anyway," he answered, voice still thick with sleep, elbows resting on the table.
With the practiced ease of years of motherhood, she moved quickly to serve a generous portion of scrambled eggs and golden bacon onto a ceramic plate, which she set in front of him with care, like she was placing something precious.
"It's understandable, honey. Yesterday was a very... Well." The sentence hung in the air unfinished.
Then her expression shifted. The warmth in her eyes dimmed for a moment, replaced by a shadow of discomfort. She dropped her gaze to the pan and pressed her lips together.
"Actually... let's not talk about that right now."
The words came out just a little too quickly. She smoothed her composure as she poured a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and set it beside his plate.
"Hmm?" Sora raised an eyebrow. The sudden shift caught him off guard.
There was something careful in the air. He speared a piece of bacon and started eating, enjoying the salty, comforting taste, but his mind had already kicked into gear.
On any normal day, after an event as significant as the Awakening, any parent would be peppering their kid with questions. "What class did you get?" "What rank?" "Have you leveled up yet?"
But his mother was tiptoeing, actively steering away from the subject.
It was as if Sora's awakening were some kind of illness no one wanted to name out loud, or maybe something worse than that.
He chewed slowly, watching her from the corner of his eye as she scrubbed the countertop with more focus than it needed.
Something wasn't adding up, and the same instinct he'd sharpened on the night prairie was telling him this silence was the calm before news he wasn't going to like.
Then again, maybe she'd just forgotten, he thought. She worked long hours, and it was easy to let things slip.
Except his mother never forgot his birthdays, always knew what was happening at school, and had even reminded him of assignments he himself had forgotten.
No, something wasn't right.