Chapter 8 – Revelation.
The classroom was quiet—too quiet for exam day. Desks lined in rigid rows, papers crisp, pens trembling in nervous hands. Except hers. Natsuki sat frozen, tears spilling onto the page, her name missing from the top corner like a cruel joke.
"You've gotta be kidding me…" Damon muttered from two rows back. He stood, ignoring the teacher's glare, and walked over.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
She looked up, eyes red, voice breaking. "It's over. They won't accept it now."
"Like hell they won't," he said, snatching a blank form from the corner desk. "Fill this out. Fast."
"But—"
"Now."
He darted out of the room, paper in hand. The printer in the faculty room screeched, spitting out a perfect copy. Three minutes. That's all they had.
Running back, he passed the hallway where the school bully swaggered by. Timing, as always, was cruel—or perfect. Damon stepped forward. The bully tripped over his foot, crashing into the teacher holding the submission stack.
The bully grabbed Damon by the collar. "Watch where you—"
"Kaito!" the teacher snapped, pointing down the hall. "Principal. Now."
Damon slipped the form into the pile and turned just as the teacher faced him. The man's hand pressed against his face in disbelief.
"Name?"
He smiled faintly. "Kogetsu."
The teacher sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Your paper's going to be confetti, kid."
"Glad we understand each other."
He walked away before the man could think twice, heart pounding from the rush.
Outside, Natsuki sat on the steps, her eyes still wet but her shoulders lighter.
"You… didn't have to," she said softly.
"I'm mad at you," he replied.
She lifted her head. "Huh?"
"You should've told me first."
For a moment, she stared at him—then stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his chest. "Thank you," she whispered. The warmth of her breath brushed his collar, and just like that—every ounce of anger melted away.
Then the light began to fade. Not like sunset. Like memory. The desks blurred. Her arms loosened. And Damon realised… it was all a memory.
Light. Buzzing. A high, mechanical hum.
Damon's eyes shot open. A spinning turbine hovered above him, its edges sharp and sleek like a blade. A thin needle whirred dangerously close to his face, glowing a soft, eerie green.
Instinct took over. He jerked up—ripping a cold, metal restraint from his neck. "Argh!" The sting burned deep, leaving a faint circular mark.
The room pulsed—a black chamber lined with green neon veins running across the walls. They flickered like veins under skin, alive and unsettling.
"What the hell…?"
The turbine stopped. A faint click. Then—light. Blinding, white light poured in from above, illuminating the space like a cathedral.
A glass dome stretched overhead—etched with a symbol: a dragon wrapped around a cross. The light passed through it, scattering emerald rays across his face.
And up there—beyond the glass—figures. People. Watching. Clapping.
He blinked. "Am I… on stage or something?"
A door hissed open behind him. Pshhhh— Footsteps.
A man in black entered, hair slicked back, eyes sharp but curious. "Ah," the man said, looking Damon up and down. "So you're awake."
He circled Damon like a scientist inspecting an exhibit, tugging at his arm, checking his pulse, even lifting his chin.
"Hey, what do you think you're—"
"Fascinating, just like his," the man murmured, poking Damon's shoulder.
"What?" Damon snapped, still confused. He swatted the hand away. "Touch me again and I'll fold you in half."
The man didn't flinch. He simply tapped Damon's forehead—three quick spots. Each glowed: blue, yellow, red.
"Can you understand me now?" the man asked.
Damon frowned. "I could've understood you if you spoke normally!"
The man smiled. "Splendid. My name is Dr. Tolrex. It is an honour, Your Highness."
"…My what?"
"Your Highness," Tolrex repeated, bowing deeply.
Damon looked behind him. Empty. He pointed at himself. "You're not talking to me, right?"
"All will be explained in due time," Tolrex said, adjusting a strange, circular dial on the wall. "But first… listen. Can you hear them?"
"Who?"
"The observers."
Damon paused. Focused. Above the glass—voices murmured. Echoes of words he shouldn't have been able to hear. He nodded slowly. "Yeah. I can hear them."
Tolrex twisted the dial again. "Good. Increasing the sound barrier now. Remarkable… the prince's senses are fully awakened."
"I'm not a prince," Damon said, stepping closer, grabbing Tolrex by the collar. "Send me back. Now."
The doctor's eyes widened behind his lenses. "Please, calm down, Your Highness—"
"Stop calling me that!" Damon roared, pulling his fist back—
"Hello, Damon."
The voice froze him.
It came from the door—the same hiss, the same silence that followed. She stood there. His mother.
The world stopped moving.
Tolrex bowed so fast his glasses almost fell. "Your Majesty."
He was interrupted by a voice he thought he'd never hear again—at least not in this life.
"Hello, Damon." The words echoed.
It didn't just make him pause; it shattered him in place, every muscle locked as his mind fought to process the sound. The voice of the woman who had shut him out in her final moments. The voice that had carved grief into him with her absence.
Slowly, his arm lowered back to his side. He turned toward the sound, his lips parting, the words barely audible—meant only for her.
"Mom?"
Confused eyes met saddened eyes of the same colour, a mirror of pain across generations.
"Yes."
And his world collapsed right there, the weight of everything he thought he knew crumbling into silence.
Damon's breath hitched. "Mom?"
She smiled gently. "Yes."
He took a step back, his heel bumping a metal console. "No… no, this isn't real. I watched you die."
She smells the same. She sounds the same. But she's dead… I saw her die. Damon's chest tightened.
"If this is some VR prank Daiki's pulling, I swear—"
"Calm down, Damon," she said softly.
"Stop telling me to calm down!" His voice cracked. "Why are you here?"
The silence that followed was heavier than the chamber itself. Then she stepped forward, her presence cutting through the light like a memory made flesh.
Two figures moved behind her — children in strange combat uniforms, faces too familiar to mistake. Damon's eyes narrowed. "You've got to be kidding me. You twerps again?"
A small white dog trotted in beside them, tail wagging as if none of this was impossible. Damon's thoughts blurred. First I learn to fight, now I can talk to dogs, and apparently I'm royalty. What the hell is happening this month?
The dog tilted its head. "You forgot you're still single."
Damon snapped, "When did you even get here?!" "No clue," the dog barked back.
His gaze returned to his mother, voice breaking. "How are you alive?"
She didn't answer right away. Her eyes softened, carrying the same sadness he remembered from her final days. "You've grown."
"I don't care!" he shouted, the sound echoing against the glass dome. "Whatever this is—simulation, dream, afterlife—send me home!"
One of the boys lunged at him. Damon's hand shot up, catching the child by the throat mid‑air. "I let you off last time. I'm not feeling generous now," he said, his eyes dark.
The other shouted, "Let go of my brother!" and kicked. Damon caught his leg, one hand for each, holding them suspended like broken puppets.
"I know how you two move, idiot."
A faint buzz. The boy pressed a glowing, circular blade against Damon's neck — the same shuriken‑like device from before. Damon snatched it, crushed it in his fist.
"You think pain makes this real? It hurts." His voice rose, desperate. "DAIKI!!!"
His mother's voice cut through, calm but sharp. "Remember when you broke your father's favourite watch?"
He froze.
"You hid the broken piece," she continued, "and I promised I'd keep your secret if you did."
His grip loosened. The boys dropped to the floor.
"That means," she said softly, "if Daiki is controlling this, you broke our promise, Damon."
The dog sniffed its reflection in the polished floor. "Yeah, this is definitely real." Then, to Damon: "You might wanna drop the kids now."
"We're not kids!" they shouted. "We're ten!"
His mother walked closer, her hand brushing his cheek. The warmth was real. Too real.
"Mom…" he whispered. He hugged her, trembling, the weight of years collapsing into that single embrace. "I'm sorry," he breathed. "You died because of me."
Her hand lingered on his back. "No, Damon. You're alive because of me."
Tolrex cleared his throat awkwardly. "Your Majesty, if I may—"
She turned, regal even in her gentleness. "I apologize, Dr. Tolrex, for any inconveniences my son has caused."
"Oh no, Your Majesty," Tolrex stammered, bowing again. "I hope to see him again."
"Damon, come with me," she said, walking toward an elevator‑like machine.
They rose through the glass chamber, into a massive hall filled with soldiers and nobles. Every one of them knelt.
"Welcome back, my prince," they said in uneven chorus.
Damon stood frozen, panic tightening his chest, hoping they wouldn't notice the fear in his eyes.
Tiny wings fluttered by his ear. Two figures no taller than his hand hovered beside him, glowing faintly.
"Hello!" one chirped, landing on his shoulder. "Fairies? Seriously?" Damon muttered. "I'm your godmother. Hazel."
"Godmother?" he repeated blankly.
"You'll understand soon," she giggled.
The other fairy zipped past — chased by the dog. "Get back here, glowing bug!" the dog barked.
Damon sighed. "I'm surrounded by insanity."
His mother led him through another set of doors — past researchers and glowing screens filled with shifting symbols. A girl shaped light into form, twisting it into wings before a scientist scolded her.
"Eterna," Tolrex explained. "The essence of creation."
"Magic?" Damon muttered. "Energy," the doctor corrected. "It's in all living things, on this plane and yours."
His mother stopped before a vast stained‑glass window. The dragon‑cross symbol blazed with sunlight.
"Sit, Damon."
He did. The godmother snapped her fingers — wood spiraled from the ground, forming a chair beneath him. The dog climbed onto his lap.
She looked back at him, her voice calm but heavy. "You need to understand something first."
Her hand pressed against the glass, sunlight outlining her form as a shadow in the light.
"Our worlds are at stake…" Her eyes met his. "…and you are the only solution."
The words didn't just echo in the chamber — they seemed to carve themselves into the air, lingering like something no one could erase. Damon's reflection merged with the dragon's shadow on the glass, two shapes overlapping until he couldn't tell where he ended and his destiny began.