Name: Adam
True Name: —
Rank: Aspirant.
Soul Core: Dormant.
Memories: —
Echoes: —
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Attributes: [Uniqueness of Visionary], [Flame of Divinity], [Blessed of I ̵
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Aspect: [Visionary].
Aspect Rank: [Divine].
Aspect Description: [The Visionary Pathway is adept at psychological manipulation.
Authority over Mind, Discernment, and Imagination. With the symbols
of Creator and The Ruler of The Mind World, granting
partial Omnipotence and Omniscience within that Domain]
Aspect Abilities: [Spectator, Telepathist, ???, ???, ???, ???, ???, ???, ???, Visionary].[Spectator: A Spectator receives great enhancement, mostly on their inferential, analytical,
observational, and identification abilities along with their memory. Spectators possess keen
powers of observation when it comes to observing individuals in either an individual or group
sense. They can look at a person strictly from a bystander's perspective, discovering their true
thoughts from their expressions, their manners, and their subconscious actions. Through this,
they can accurately figure out connections and draw conclusions from the details they
gathered to form an accurate mental model of the target. A Spectator will also possess the
sharpened eyesight needed to analyse a target's body language.]
[Telepathist: Telepathists are able to read the superficial thoughts of others and are also able
to simulate the trajectory of such thoughts to a certain degree. A Telepathist's observation is
not only limited to superficial details, but deeper into one's aura, Ether Body, or other
mysterious domains. They also know what kind of emotional reaction to show in the
appropriate situation and know in detail what kind of expression and body language to react
with. Their eyesight has been further enhanced, being much clearer than before.]
[Visionary: As the master of the Mind World, the Visionary holds dominion over all mental
realms. In essence, They are the embodiment of Humanity: Humanity is both good and evil,
rational and mad. Humanity arises naturally but can also be manufactured artificially by
the Visionary. As the The Ruler of The Mind World, the Visionary can also be, in a
sense, Omniscient, but this effect is limited to matters related to the Mind World. Their
Discernment can also extend into the Fate, Reality, and Illusion Domains. They hold some
Dream authority- the concept of Dreams itself. They hold partial authority over Loss of
Control, the cause of one's descent into corruption.]
******************************************************
As I heard the triumphant yet static-y voice of the Spell ring out in my head, it felt like I had
just shattered into glass. A void of crystallin blue and turquoise water rushed around me, a
vortex with myself as the centre. I felt something indescribable,
unknowable, unfathomable break within me and slowly disperse. Not leaving my body, but
joining it, becoming one. It was like a cube of ice stuck in my throat had finally melted,
allowing me to swallow the water smoothly. I knew what this signified, I would have know
even without the Spell. I had successfully digested my Spectator Potion.
But how?
A Spectator was meant to just spectate, not to involve themselves. Using clues and probes
they had gathered through their observations was allowed, but taking the central stage like I
had, being the key in Theron's decision to recruit more helpers, this was far from the detached
and aloof audience member the Potion demanded. had the Acting Method been twisted here,
in this strange world? Or was it yet again another gift from the Curator? I didn't know, and I
wouldn't until I got out of here, so I shelved that question and focused on something else.The torrent of power from the Radiance was still there, the horrific drain on my very essence,
but a new layer of perception unfolded within me. It was as if a second, calmer mind had
awakened inside my own, a mind attuned not to the external world, but to the internal sea of
thought and emotion.
Telepathist. The name from the lore of the Visionary Pathway surfaced in my memory.
Sequence 8. The ability to listen to the thoughts of others, to sense surface emotions, and
most crucially, to better understand and master one's own mind.
As I used the improved logic gifted to me, I came to a possible theory to what had just
triggered my advancement now. I had advanced by accepting. The core of the Spectator was
observation. And the most important thing for a Spectator to observe was itself. Without
understanding their own mind and heart, how can they understand and eventually dominates
others'? The Spectator Pathway was both the easiest and hardest to lose control in, because
any weaknesses can be patched up early on, but if latent issues slip under the radar then they
erupt all the more furiously. If I hadn't accepted my morality, if I had insisted on sacrificing
the others here, my guilt would have eventually consumed me.
I had been forced to stare into the abyss of my own soul, to see the monstrous temptation to
betray everyone for a better reward. I had seen my own ordinariness, my fear, my pathetic
self-aggrandizement. I had observed the darkest parts of Adam, the persona, and the terrified
man hiding beneath.
The intoxicating possibility unfolded in my mind, a dizzying ladder of power. Could I climb
it all here? Could I advance through sheer self-understanding and will, bypassing the
Nightmare Spell's brutal gauntlet entirely? Sequence 7 Psychiatrist, Sequence 5
Dreamwalker, Sequence 4 Manipulator... all the way to the pinnacle, Sequence 0 Visionary,
while still technically a Dormant in the Spell's system?
The thought was as terrifying as it was alluring. To wield that kind of power, the authority
over minds and dreams, without the Spell's constraints...
But almost as soon as the fantasy formed, my new Telepathist-honed logic dismantled it. No.
The barriers between Sequences, especially the major ones, weren't just about
comprehension. They were about fundamental changes in one's very being, a consolidation of
power and concept that required immense pressure and often, external catalysts. The Acting
Method was the path, but the Nightmares were the forges. They provided the life-and-death
stakes, the alien environments, and the raw, existential fuel necessary to shatter through those
bottlenecks. Sequence 7, the first major filter... there was no way around it. I would have to
survive a Nightmare to break through.
My momentary distraction had a cost. My focus on the Radiance wavered. The flow of
energy from me stuttered, creating a minute but critical instability in the circle's output. The
immense power, so precariously balanced, bucked like a wild thing.
"Adam!" Theron's voice was a lash of pure will, cutting through the hum and my own
thoughts. "Hold the line! Now!"I snapped back, my heart lurching. I threw every ounce of my renewed concentration—and
my new Telepathist's sense of self—into stabilizing the flow. I could feel the panic of the
others ripple through our connection, a psychic feedback loop that I instinctively soothed,
projecting a sliver of calm I did not feel. The Radiance steadied, its hunger once again
becoming a constant, agonizing drain instead of a chaotic vortex.
After that, time lost all meaning. It became a river of pain and light. My advancement had
granted a surge of fresh energy, a deeper well to draw from, but it was still being consumed
relentlessly. The Telepathist ability was a double-edged sword; I was now hyper-aware of the
fading life force of everyone around me, each diminishing spark a small tragedy I felt in my
own soul. Jeryl's iron resolve was beginning to show hairline fractures of exhaustion. The
priests' devotional fervour was thinning into a desperate, raw endurance.
We were not going to last much longer.
And then, it stopped.
Theron didn't cry out. He didn't slump over. He simply... ceased. The torrent of power
flowing from him into the Radiance cut off as if a valve had been shut.
In the profound silence that followed—a silence so deep the absence of the hum felt like a
physical pressure—a low, deep groan echoed through the chamber. It didn't come from the
crystal or any of us. It came from the mountain itself. A final, settling sigh of ancient stone
that had been forced to yield.
Theron slowly, stiffly, lowered his hands from the crystal's surface. The light within it pulsed
once, gently, and then dimmed to a bearable glow.
He turned to us, his face etched with a exhaustion so complete it was a wonder he was still
standing. But in his eyes, in the depths of those dried-gold pools, was a light that had nothing
to do with the Radiance.
"It is done," he whispered, the words carrying through the silent chamber with the weight of a
proclamation. "The passage is complete. We have reached the world below."
A collective, shuddering breath was released from the circle. The remaining guards and
priests swayed on their knees, some collapsing fully to the floor. Jeryl let out a grunt that was
half sob, half laugh of pure disbelief.
We had done it. We had actually done it. Through the sacrifice of half our number, through
the utter exhaustion of our souls, we had carved a path through the impossible.
The cost was written in the empty spaces around us, in the hollows of our own cheeks, in the
permanent tremor in our hands. But we had done it.
We had changed Fate.
"Now we need to move the people down here and out. It will take hours, maybe half even
half a day if the odds aren't in our favour. The path is just a slope too: be careful whenassisting the elderly or frail. Take a short break for now, I'll have the others start them down."
Then, Theron smiled at us.
"You have all down so well."
I felt warmth swell up inside me at the praise, even as the advance of the majority of us did
not go unnoticed. Three quarters of us had been consumed by that dreaded flame to finish
forging the path. And that was with Theron providing the vast majority of the fuel required. If
it was just us, we would have been burnt out before digging more than thirty feet.
Still possessing some spare energy left over from my advancement, I approached Jeryl and
helped him sit down, back against the wall. I clasped his forearm in encouragement and he
flashed me a pale grin in turn. "Finally, we can get off this godforsaken mountain" he
grunted. I raised an eyebrow, my tone teasing, "Did I just hear you curse the holy ground of
the Lord?"
"Oh sod off" he laughed before a coughing fit interrupted it. He waved away my concern
before I could even speak. "I'm just tired, 'tis all. Go on now, the Bishop needs you more than
me. Go on!"
I stepped away with a nod and walked over to Theron, who seemed to be meditating to
recover his Essence. I knelt beside him quietly, at least until a pained groan escaped my lips
as my knees complained. The Saint's lips twitched in vague amusement before he opened his
eyes and looked at me. He had aged at least a decade in appearance, and his hair was more
grey that colour, but there was a quiet contentment in his gaze.
The air in the chamber still hummed with the faint, fading echo of the Radiance. "Where will
we go once we reach the bottom?"
"South," Theron said, his voice low with fatigue. He didn't open his eyes. "Karion said the
city at the end of the range still stands. The Sentinels still hold the walls. It's our best
chance."
I nodded, musing over the feasibility. "How far?"
"Weeks on foot. Less if we find working transports along the old roads. The land between
here and there is… scarred. But passable."
We lapsed into a tired silence. The plan was simple. Gather the survivors. Take the new
tunnel down through the mountain's roots. Emerge on the other side. Walk. Hope.
"What will you do?" I asked. "After."
A faint, weary smile touched Theron's lips. "Sleep. For a year. Then… find a quiet village.
Tend a garden. Never channel light again."
"Sounds good," I said. I meant it, too. After what happened here, I would never look at
sunlight or fire the same way. I offered a brief prayer to Aucusces, apologizing for all the
times I called him a fraud. He still was, but at least he was scary fraud.It was then the mountain groaned.
Not the deep, shifting groan of the Radiance at work. This was sharper. A shudder that
vibrated through the stone beneath them. At the centre of the chamber, the Radiance flared—
a sudden, violent pulse of light that stabbed at my eyes. Shit, don't tell me the fucking Sun
God heard me blaspheming in His temple?!
Theron's eyes snapped open. He lunged forward, not toward the entrance, but toward the
crystal. He placed his hands on its surface, his body tensing. A low sound of effort escaped
his lips. The Radiance's wild flaring subsided, dimming back to its usual intense glow. But
Theron's face was now etched with a sharp, fresh panic.
"Something's wrong," he breathed, his voice tight. "The barrier… it's under stress. Adam.
Go. Now. See what is happening."
I didn't ask questions. I just pushed myself up, my own exhaustion forgotten in a surge of
adrenaline, and ran from the chamber.
I moved through the temple's inner passages, the familiar route now feeling alien. The usual
quiet was broken by a growing noise from ahead—not screams, but a low, collective murmur
of fear.
Then I burst into the main courtyard. The scene was frozen. Refugees, guards, priests—all
were standing still, facing the great open gates. They were silent now, just staring. Pushing
through through the crowd, my heart hammering against my ribs from the exhaustion. I
managed to force myself to the front and looked out the front doors, down the stairs.
The view from the mountain was usually vast, showing the lands below. Not anymore.
The foot of the mountain was gone. It was covered in a moving blackness. It was a swarm. A
solid mass of creatures, countless, their forms shifting and writhing together. They pressed
forward in a silent, relentless tide. And they were crashing against a wall: a pale gold barrier
glowed where the swarm made contact, flickering like a weak flame each time the black tide
surged against it. The light was thin. It held for now, but it shimmered under the endless,
pressing weight. This was the temple's final defence. The source of the quake. The reason the
Radiance had reacted.
The monsters had arrived, they were here. The siege had already begun and he barrier was all
that stood between them and the end. And if my gut was right, then the frequent flickering
meant it was already struggling to hold them off. Spinning on my feet, I grabbed the closest
guard I could see and ordered him to tell Theron what was happening. I then moved through
the crowd to find Ascended Annette, who had already begun shepherding the civilians into
groups to be taken underground. Her eyes locked with mine, and the grim realization I saw in
them made me clench my jaw. We had just finished the tunnel, we had just finally seen a way
out. And while the cruel mistress it was, Fate had just dropped a bomb on our heads and
laughed.
My body moved on instinct, grabbing and pushing people into more manageable shapes. In a
better scenario I would have been gentle and coercive, but we were running out of time andforce was the best motivator for those panicking. And they were panicking: men and women
falling to the ground, clutching their heads between their hands in despair. A couple were
screaming to themselves or just mumbling blankly. If it wasn't for the fact I had been told the
barrier blocked all forms of attack, I would have believed a Mental Nightmare Creature had
assaulted us. Though there were probably a few down there, in the endless horde. After
forming a group of around fourty, I directed them towards the bronze door, which had been
left unreformed after I exited it. The people slowed as curiosity inevitably took root in their
minds, briefly quenching the fear and making them look around, but I drove them deeper
with a merciless voice. "Move! Move if you don't want to die!"
Crude, but effective.
When I reached the bottom, two other groups had already arrived. Theron stood to the side,
watching me with an anxious gaze, the guard I sent down before me standing awkwardly
beside him. "The barrier's up," I told Theron, my voice short. "It's a full swarm. They're
everywhere at the bottom."
Theron's shoulders sank. He looked exhausted. "I was afraid of that," he said, his voice
rough. "Using the Radiance like we did… it's like lighting a signal fire. We called them here
faster. Made them hungrier." He let out a heavy breath. "The barrier is linked to the
Radiance's power. It won't hold. Twelve hours. Maybe less."
Twelve hours. The number hit me hard. We had just finished the tunnel. We needed time—
time to organize, to explain, to let people breathe.
"We don't have time," Theron said, as if reading my mind. He forced himself to stand,
moving with a grim focus that pushed past his fatigue. "The supplies are already packed. The
carts are ready in the lower storerooms, near the tunnel. We leave now. We start the
evacuation immediately."
I followed him out, back up the tunnel. At this point, I had probably run a small marathon
just going back and forth. The main hall was chaos, but it was a directed chaos. The guards
who hadn't joined the circle were already moving, faces hard, voices firm as they organized
people into lines. They'd been waiting for this.
Theron moved through it all with a quiet command, giving sharp, clear orders. The despair
from before was gone, replaced by the grim resolve of someone carrying out a plan they
wished they never had to use. As we passed a group of priests loading the last bundles onto a
cart, Theron's eyes lingered on them. His voice dropped, just for me. "The barrier… it
demands a lot. It'll need a constant flow of power to last even twelve hours."
He didn't say more. He didn't have to. I saw it in his eyes. The Radiance needed fuel. We'd
just burned through lives to dig our way out. Now, to keep the door open long enough for
everyone to escape, we'd have to burn more. I understood. The empty spots in the circle
would need to be filled. The math was ugly and simple. We didn't talk about it. What was
there to say? The choice was already made. Saying it out loud would only waste time and
make the weight heavier.The evacuation began in earnest. People were guided toward the temple's depths, toward the
hidden tunnel that was their only chance. The air was thick with fear, but it was focused—
sharpened by the guards' efficiency and Theron's silent determination.
We were racing a clock none of us could see, counting down to the moment the gold light
outside finally gave out. Before heading back in, I took another look at the black mass
slithering against the barrier, the enemies I would have to inevitably face countless times in
the future. The Nightmares, the Dream Realm, Gates, even as Echoes held by other
Awakened. I should read up on some guidebooks when I enter the Academy. I didn't recognise
any of these creatures at first glance, but they were individually indistinct from this distance.
Maybe there were a few familiar faces down there, but that wouldn't change anything. I
couldn't even beat a regular guard in combat with my current abilities, nonetheless a raving
monster. I would have to wait till I became a Sequence 6 before engaging in close combat
with others. Dragon Scales would be a great help then, though I had a feeling I would
probably be a proper Awakened by the time I unlocked that, maybe even Ascended if I was
too unlucky with opportunities.
Survival was the immediate goal, but after that came existence. I needed a purpose, a way to
blend in and leverage my new abilities without painting a target on my back.
The memory of Master Jet's briefing surfaced—a titbit she revealed to Sunny when hunting
down a rogue Awakened named Kurt. The government and the Great Clans were perpetually
short on one specific resource: individuals who could stabilize the mentally fractured. An
Awakened lost their mind wasn't just a tragedy; they were a walking catastrophe, a threat to
everyone around them. The value of a person who could prevent that, or at least manage the
fallout, was immense.
My new ability as a Telepathist was a key. But it was a crude, untested key. I could sense
surface emotions and hear the whispers of another's thoughts, but true mental healing? That
was far beyond its current scope. Soothing a terrified Dormant was one thing; calming an
Awakened whose very grip on reality was crumbling was an entirely different league of
power. My current skills were a first-aid kit, not a surgical suite. I might be able to avoid
provoking such individuals, but I couldn't stop them from being triggered by others
This presented both an opportunity and a danger. The opportunity was clear. In the world of
Shadow Slave, there would be no shortage of patients. The traumatized, the broken, the ones
teetering on the edge—they would be my practice. Digesting the Psychiatrist potion wouldn't
be a problem; the environment would provide endless material to act upon. I could build a
life there, a useful, quiet life that also served my need to advance along the Pathway.
The danger, however, was in the revelation. I could not, under any circumstances, reveal the
true nature of my power. Letting any faction know I was part of a foreign power system, that
my abilities were rooted in the esoteric principles of the Visionary Pathway—principles that
could eventually manipulate dreams, rewrite personalities, and impose my will on reality
itself—would be a death sentence. I would be seen not as a useful tool, but as an existential
threat to be contained, dissected, and understood.
My role would have to be carefully crafted: a skilled empath. Not a master of the mind, but a
proficient soother of surface-level turmoil. I would offer just enough value to beindispensable, but never enough to be frightening. It was a tightrope walk, but it was a path.
It was a way to turn mere survival into a foundation for something more, all while staying
hidden in plain sight. Firstly, of course, I had to survive the abominable death trying to claim
me here.
****************************************************************
The familiar, agonizing pull of the Radiance had become a grim rhythm. My world had
narrowed to the circle of light, the grip of the hands beside me, and the constant, draining
effort to keep a sliver of myself separate from the torrent flowing into the crystal. The last of
the civilian evacuees had long since vanished into the tunnel's depths, their frightened
whispers swallowed by the dark. Only the temple's guardians remained now—the priests, the
guards, Jeryl, and myself—forming the final battery for Theron's desperate stand.
The relative silence was shattered by the sound of frantic, stumbling footsteps. A young
priest, one of the runners tasked with monitoring the evacuation's tail end, burst into the
chamber. He collapsed to his knees, gasping for air, his face ashen.
"The barrier!" he choked out, waving a trembling hand toward the world above. "The top…
it's thinning! Fading! You can see the shadows pressing through!"
A cold dread, sharper than the Radiance's drain, shot through me. Theron's eyes snapped
open, their usual warmth replaced by a hard, focused light. He didn't question the report.
Instead, he placed a hand back on the crystal, his brow furrowing in concentration as he
tapped into the remaining energy to sense the barrier's integrity for himself. A moment later,
his face tightened, confirming the worst.
"He's right," Theron's voice was flat, devoid of its usual resonance. "The barrier is failing
faster than projected. The main body of civilians is only just beginning their march down the
mountain. They are slow and burdened by the need for supplies."
The unspoken conclusion hung in the air, heavier than the mountain above us. If we broke the
circle now, if we stopped feeding the Radiance, the barrier would fall instantly. The horde
would pour through the temple and flood into the tunnel. They would run down the fleeing
civilians long before they could reach any semblance of safety, and we join them, probably
dead even before them because we were behind.. Our sacrifice would have been for nothing.
Theron looked around the circle, his gaze meeting each of ours. The fear in the room was a
tangible thing, a metallic taste in the air. I saw it in the white-knuckled grip of the guard next
to me, in the rapid, shallow breathing of the priests.
"I will not lie to you," Theron said, his voice quiet but clear, cutting through the panic. "To
hold the barrier until they are clear… it will take everything we have left. It will likely take
more. I will not order you to stay. I will not think less of any who choose to run. The choice
is yours."
His words were a mercy and a condemnation. He was offering a way out, but we all knew the
truth of it. Choosing to run meant abandoning the others to a swift death and then facing the
horde alone in the tunnel with no hope. Staying meant a chance, however slim, that thepeople we'd sworn to protect might live. It meant a morally superior end, rather than a
frantic, terrified one.
The silence stretched. I could feel the conflict raging in the people around me, a storm of
terror and duty. I felt it in myself. Every instinct screamed to run, to try for those extra
minutes of life.
Then, Jeryl shifted. The big man let out a grunt, adjusting his stance, settling his weight as if
digging in for a final blow. He didn't say a word. He just tightened his grip on my hand and
on the hand of the priest beside him.
It was enough. One by one, the others followed. A priest bowed her head, tears streaking
through the dust on her cheeks, but her feet remained planted. A guard met Theron's gaze and
gave a single, sharp nod. No one left. No one moved toward the tunnel.
Theron's expression was a complex mix of profound grief and even deeper pride. "Then we
see it through," he whispered.
He placed his hands back on the Radiance. The light flared, brighter and hungrier than
before. The pull intensified, a vicious, final demand. The familiar process began again, but
this time it felt different. This wasn't about digging a path anymore. This was a holding
action. A last stand. We weren't just giving our energy now; we were buying time, second by
precious second, with the currency of our souls. The chamber filled with the light of our
ending, and we gave ourselves over to it completely.
I couldn't help but keep the despairing thoughts from my mind though, even as the stabbing
pain of the Radiance did its best to help me in that regard. What was the point? We were
burning ourselves out here, offering ourselves up to this hungry light, but for what? A hope?
A chance? Theron had sent the civilians away with only two of the guards. The world outside
was a scarred wasteland, crawling with who-knows-what other dangers. The city at the end of
the mountain range might be no better off than here, Karion's story old news. Those people
we were dying for might be walking straight into another nightmare, or simply collapsing
from exhaustion and despair a few miles from this mountain. Our sacrifice could be for
nothing. It could be utterly meaningless.
I forced the thought down. It was a luxury I couldn't afford. Doubt was a crack in the will,
and right now, our collective will was the only thing keeping the Radiance focused and the
barrier intact.
My mind, ever analytical even as it was being assaulted from within, the logical failsafe of
the Telepathist kicking in, turned to a more immediate, terrifying question: what happened
when the barrier finally fell? Theron hadn't said. He'd spoken of buying time, of holding
until they were clear. But clear meant distance. A lot of it.
Then I understood. The Radiance. It wasn't just a light or a tool for digging. It was a bomb. A
Supreme-level artifact containing the condensed power of three God-blessed champions.
Theron wasn't just going to let the monsters swarm us once we were spent. He was waiting.
He was letting us drain ourselves into it, building up its power to a critical peak. And then,
when the horde finally broke through and flooded the temple, he would trigger it.He would turn this entire mountain top into a sun.
The imagined scale of it nearly took my breath away and I wanted to laugh. I didn't know for
certain that was what he planned, but it was what I would do at least. It was a final, defiant
act of vengeance that would wipe every abomination on this peak from existence.
But he couldn't do it yet. He had to wait. He had to let the civilians get far enough away, or
the shockwave, the sheer thermal bloom of the detonation, would catch them on the foothills
and vaporize them just as surely as the monsters. Our sacrifice wasn't just to hold the barrier.
It was to keep the Radiance stable and contained until the precise moment Theron could
unleash its fury without killing the very people we were trying to save.
We were buying distance with our lives. We were the fuse, burning down slowly, giving the
bomb time to arm itself and its targets time to flee its blast radius. I tightened my grip on the
hands beside me, pouring every ounce of my will into the flow. The Telepathist in me sensed
the same grim understanding dawning on the others. There was no panic anymore. Just a
cold, resigned focus. We were no longer just priests and guards. We were a component in a
doomsday weapon. Our function was to burn out at the designated time.
The Radiance glowed brighter, accepting its final offering silently. Did it know what awaited
it at the end of this meal? Did it possess any level of intelligence at all, even that of the
Spell's? Probably not, if Theron's attitude was anything to go by. Still, I was sure it would be
joyously celebrating if it could right now. It had the chance to send thousands of Void
Creatures back where they came from, after all.
The chamber had become a tomb illuminated by a dying star. The air itself felt thin, siphoned
away by the Radiance's relentless hunger. One by one, the others had gone. There was no
grand fanfare, no final words. A priest would simply shudder, their grip on the circle going
slack, and then that silent, horrifying flash would consume them, pulling their essence into
the crystal's core. Each disappearance was a subtraction from the world, a light going out that
left the remaining ones colder, more alone.
Anette, the other Ascended who had stayed, was the last of the others. She was a woman of
few words and fierce loyalty. A minute ago, she had simply let out a low, shuddering gasp, a
sound of final surrender. There was no flash for her, not like the others. The Radiance was too
weak now, its process less violent, more efficient. Her form simply… unravelled, dissolving
into a stream of silver motes that were drawn into the crystal like dust into a vacuum. She
was just gone.
Then there were three.
The ground gave another violent shudder, different from the controlled tremors of the
Radiance's work. This was a jarring, sickening lurch. Above the constant hum, a new sound
echoed down from the temple above—a distant, splintering crack, like ice over a frozen lake
giving way. The Radiance dimmed another perceptible notch, its light growing softer, more
desperate.
The barrier was failing. It was no longer a question of if, but of how many had already gotten
through. I could feel it—a minute drain on the energy we were producing was now severed, aline cut. The power was no longer flowing to reinforce the shield. It was all being consumed
just to maintain the Radiance's own unstable core. I knew, with a certainty that chilled my
bones, that the first cracks had appeared. Smaller, faster creatures would be squeezing
through even now, scuttling into the temple grounds above us.
Theron's eyes met mine across the dimming light. They were hollowed out, filled with a grief
so profound it had passed beyond emotion into a simple, terrible fact of existence. Then he
looked at Jeryl.
Jeryl understood. The big man had been a steady rock throughout, his simple faith an anchor
in the chaos. Now, he looked from Theron to me, a sad, weary smile touching his cracked
lips. There was no fear in his eyes, only a deep regret for a future he would never see. He
gave me a look that was an apology and a farewell all at once. Then he turned to Theron and
offered a slow, deliberate half-bow of utmost respect—a soldier acknowledging his
commander for the final time.
He didn't wait for the Radiance to take the last dregs of him. He gave them freely.
With a final, grinding effort of will, Jeryl pushed. I felt it through our connection—not a
trickle, but a torrent, a flash flood of everything he had left, every memory, every hope, every
shred of his being, violently expelled and offered up. The Radiance, sensing the sudden
surge, flared in response. This time, the consumption was not silent.
A soundless flash of silver-gold erupted around Jeryl, but from within him. For a split
second, his body was a silhouette against the light, every vein and artery blazing like a
network of lightning. Then he was gone, his entire existence incinerated in an instant, the
energy sucked into the crystal with a pull that felt like the chamber itself gasped.
The silence he left behind was deafening.
Then there were two.
Just me and Theron. The Saint and the fraud. The weight of Jeryl's sacrifice, of everyone's
sacrifice, settled on my shoulders, a mantle I hadn't asked for and didn't deserve. The
Radiance's light, briefly bolstered by Jeryl's final gift, stabilized for a handful of heartbeats.
It was a fleeting reprieve. The drain resumed, slower now, but steady. We were the last two
logs on the fire, and the flames were dying.
Theron's gaze held mine. There were no words left to say. We both knew the calculus. The
barrier was breached. The end was beginning upstairs. Our only purpose now was to hold on
a little longer. To give the convoy every second we could steal. And then… then it would be
time for the sun to rise one last time.
If Theron was surprised to see me last till the end, he didn't show it. I thought of asking him,
but I was already too tired to stand up: it was the power of the Radiance that kept me in
place. I suppose, as Ascended, Jeryl and Annette had been prioritised by the Radiance. As
stronger than a Dormant but weaker than an Ascended, plus having topped up halfway
through, I had managed to outlast the others-except for Theron, who seemed to be growing
weaker each minute yet still stood tall.The hum of the Radiance was a feeble thing now, a sputtering candle where once a sun had
raged. The drain was slower, a cold, syrupy pull that felt less like having my soul ripped out
and more like watching it seep away into the dark. There was no pain left. Just a vast,
hollowing emptiness.
Theron's voice cut through the stillness, a dry rasp that seemed to cost him immense effort.
He wasn't looking at me. His eyes were fixed on the dimming crystal, but he was speaking to
me. To the silence. To himself.
"I never saw the ocean, you know," he began, his words slow, measured. "The Venerable
One… he promised to take me, once. When my training was complete. We were going to
travel to the coast of the Silent Sapphire Sea." A faint, ghostly smile touched his lips. "I used
to dream of the sound it would make. He said it was a roar that could drown out all other
thoughts."
He was quiet for a long moment, the only sound the faint, pathetic hum of the dying artifact.
"I am afraid, Adam," he confessed, the admission seeming to surprise even him. "Not of the
end. I made my peace with that weeks ago. But of what comes after. Is there a dawn for us?
Any of us?" He drew a shuddering breath. "I have to believe there is. I have to believe that
this… this is not the end of our story. That the Gods, in Their infinite wisdom, have not
abandoned us to this darkness. That humanity will find a way. We always have. We are…
resilient."
His words hung in the air, a desperate, beautiful prayer.
Inside my skull, a different voice answered, too tired and broken to be given sound. They're
gone, Theron. Or They never cared to begin with. Your Gods are just as doomed as we are, as
doomed as the Daemons and all other life across the Realms. The things out there… they
don't care about your faith. They'll grind your bones to dust and your city to rubble, and then
they'll move on to the next world. There's no grand design. Just… hunger.
But I didn't say it. I let his hope sit there, unchallenged. It was all he had left.
My own mind, untethered by exhaustion, drifted away from gods and humanity's fate. It went
back to a small apartment on a world without magic. To a life of quiet mediocrity. I hadn't
been a hero there either. Just a man. An average man with a peaceful, diligent soul, who
found comfort in routine and simple pleasures. I'd never done anything great. Never saved
anyone. I'd just… lived. Kindly, for the most part. Inoffensively.
And now here I was, at the end of all things, having helped burn two dozen people to fuel a
magical bomb, having helped save a few hundred others. Was it a redemption? Was it a
tragedy? It felt too grand a label for what it was. It just… was.
The thought of dying returned, not as a sharp terror, but as a heavy, accepted weight. And
with it came the most absurd, mundane, and profoundly human regret of all.
I never got to see the rest of it, I thought, the absurdity almost making me want to laugh, if
I'd had the energy. I never got to see the full anime, after waiting for years.It was such a stupid, trivial thing. But in that moment, it was the most real regret I had. Not
for lost love, or unfinished ambitions, but for a story left untold.
Theron continued to speak softly, his words blurring into a gentle stream of memories and
faith, a lullaby for the end of the world. I listened, but my own final thought was a silent,
petty grievance against a universe that would deny a man his anime finale. And perhaps it
was that which gave me possibly the dumbest, but also maybe the best, idea I had had yet. I
looked at Theron and asked him, "Do you plan on detonating the Radiance when they
approach?"
He looked at me in slight surprise before nodding. "Yes, I have already set it up. All that is
required is a small source of energy. I made it so the system runs backwards on itself,
colliding and igniting. It's quite simple, actually, even you could do it now."
"Then let me."
My words, firm yet cold, resolute yet simple, seem to momentarily daze Theron. He looks at
me with confusion before tilting his head forward. "What?"
"Let me do it."
Theron seemed to deny the meaning in my words, his eyes struggling to focus on me in the
gloom. "Do what, my boy?"
"Light the fuse. You've set the trigger. Let me be the one to pull it."
His reaction was immediate, a flicker of his old authority. "No. Absolutely not. This is my
duty. My burden. My—"
"They need you," I interrupted, the words finding a strength I didn't know I had left. "The
civilians. They have two guards against a broken world. They need a Transcendant. They
need a leader. They don't need a martyr who's already half-dead. You can still protect them. I
can't."
I saw the conflict war on his face—duty warring with desire, the weight of his responsibility
against the crushing fatigue. "The Radiance… it is tied to me now. If I leave its presence
before the detonation, the feedback will…" He trailed off, but I understood. It would
consume what was left of him.
"Then don't leave it tied to you," I said, the plan forming with a cold, perfect clarity. "Drop
the barrier. Stop feeding it. Let it calm. The connection will weaken. Then go. Run. I'll stay.
When they break through… I'll give it back all the energy it wants. All at once."
Theron stared at me, truly stunned into silence. The plan was insane. It was a gamble that the
Radiance's stability wouldn't fail completely without a constant feed, that I could reignite it
fast enough.
"How?" he finally whispered, his voice breaking. "How can you be so… accepting? You
have lived, Adam. You have seen things outside these walls, experienced wonders I haveonly read of. How can you sit there and choose this so calmly?"
I didn't have an answer for him. Not one he would understand. I couldn't explain the soul-
deep weariness of a life that had already felt too long, or the quiet acceptance of an average
man who had, against all odds, finally done one thing that mattered. I just gave him a faint,
tired smile.
"Please, Theron. Step away."
The fight left him all at once. His shoulders, which had carried the weight of this temple for
so long, finally slumped in utter defeat. He didn't speak. He simply stumbled forward and
wrapped his arms around me in a tight, desperate embrace. I felt the hot sting of his tears
against my neck, the tremble of his exhausted frame. Then, he let go, turned, and without
looking back, walked unsteadily toward the tunnel entrance.
As he crossed the threshold and moved down the passage, the effect was immediate. The
constant, draining pull from the Radiance ceased. The light in the chamber dimmed
drastically, shrinking back to the core crystal's initial, potent glow. From somewhere high
above, a sound like a million panes of glass shattering echoed down—the final collapse of the
golden barrier.
A moment of perfect, terrifying silence followed.
Then the sound began. A low rumble that built into a thunderous stampede. It grew louder for
several minutes, getting closer and literally shaking the mountain. I wouldn't be surprised if
they trigger an avalanche, though I suppose you would need snow for that. The horde,
unchained, was coming. I could hear them—a wave of claws and fury—crashing through the
temple above, scuttling down corridors, demolishing walls. They knew where the light was.
They were coming to snuff it out.
I pushed myself up, my legs trembling, and sat on the stone altar directly beneath the
hovering Radiance. I focused, drawing on the last dregs of my Spirituality, and a small,
searingly bright blob of silver-gold light coalesced in my palm. The trigger. The final spark.
Theron had told me how to activate it, how my end would be painless and as close to instant
as it can be. Though he only had a few minutes head start, I was confidant he had gotten far
enough away. It was a downward slope after all, and Theron could handle the tumble. The
though of a weary old man rolling down a hill did rise a chuckle out of me, I will admit.
The first of them reached the chamber entrance. A twisted, multi-limbed horror, all teeth and
rage. It surged into the room, followed by a dozen more, a tide of nightmare flesh. They
skidded to a halt, repulsed by the Radiance's light, their forms hissing and recoiling from its
purity. It was a stalemate. But it would only last seconds.
I stood up on the altar, my body a silhouette against the glowing crystal.
I spread my arms wide, the tiny star of ultimate annihilation held aloft in my hand. I smiled at
the ugly, unnatural horrors before me. I remember Eurys telling Sunny that the Void was
Corruption per se, in that it wasn't inherently negative. It was merely Change, and the rabid
madness I saw before me was just the result of said Change and the old ways resisting eachother, the host being driven to collapse as a side effect. Still, as I looked at them in person for
the first time, I found I couldn't care less. To me, they were all disgusting abominations, and I
would purge them here. My lips spread wider as a rush of chūnibyō-ism filled my chest,
laughter escaping despite myself. The ball of silver-gold floating in front of my chest, arms
spread out like I was embracing the crowd in front of me.
"Let there be Light!"
And then there was nothing
Chapter End Notes
Quick little poll for you guys: where do you want to place this story on the timeline?
The same as Sunny, several years before or closer to a decade behind? I have multiple
ideas and drafts (oose pages lol) but I want you to pick your preferred setting and level
of canon compliance. Next chapter will be released in four or five days too
Please leave your thoughts on this chapter, writing self-centred and story-driven arc was
surprisingly tough. Major respect for G3 in his creativity and world building, he really is
amazing with this stuffChapter 9: Final Intergrations
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
And first, I thought I was dead.
I floated in a void, but it was not the starlit expanse where I had met the Curator. That place
had felt ancient, personal, a meeting room between realities. This was different. This was vast
and coldly mechanical. My consciousness, stripped of a body, drifted.
At first, I felt a pang of disappointment. He's not here. The Curator, the being who had set me
on this path, was absent. This wasn't his domain.
Then, memory surfaced—not mine, but Sunny's. A description from a web novel I'd read a
lifetime ago. Between those stars, countless strings of silver light were woven into a beautiful
and inconceivably complex net, forming various nexuses and constellations.
As if the thought itself had power, the void around me resolved into that exact vision.
It was breath-taking. A cosmic tapestry of impossible scale. Silver threads of pure light
crisscrossed an infinite darkness, connecting points of brilliant, cold light. They pulsed with a
rhythmic, silent energy, weaving and re-weaving patterns too complex for my mind to follow.
It was a web of fate, a circuit board for reality itself. It was the most beautiful and terrifying
thing I had ever seen.
And then the thought came, unbidden, a product of my old world's perspective: It looks like a
neural network.
The analogy was perfect. The silver threads were synaptic connections, the glowing nexuses
were neurons firing. This wasn't just a place; it was a process. A function. I had worked with
computers, digging through and sorting old code for my employers. I had seen a few images
of a brain scan too, just here or there, available in the Age of Information.
The question that had haunted humanity since the Spell's arrival echoed in my formless
mind: Is it alive?
Sunny believed it was just a machine, neither alive nor dead, or even capable of creativity
beyond what was already inscribed in it. Of course, Nephis believed it held a specific malice
towards her, and Cassie also seemed to have her own theories, but the exact level of sentience
the Spell possessed wasn't revealed up to the chapters I'd read. According to the novel
though: it was the ultimate arbiter, the impartial, unfeeling engine that governed the new laws
of reality. It did not care about my sacrifice, my fears, or my regrets. It would only assess my
performance against its parameters.
A profound silence fell, deeper than any I had ever known. The beautiful, terrifying web of
light seemed to hold its breath.Then, a voice that was not a voice, a sound that was pure information, echoed through the
core of my being. It was devoid of tone, of gender, of emotion. It was the system itself,
speaking its judgment.
[Assessing...]
The appraisal had begun.
[You have received a Memory: Unshadowed Crucifix]
'Huh? Wait, hold on a bit, what the fuck-'
[Aspirant! Your trial is over.]
[A young and lonely man ascended to the Temple of Evenlight to escape the terrors of
the Doom. He manipulated all within, through trickery and inspiration, rallying the
despondent Saint to open his heart and finally break free from his self-imposed shackles
of responsibility. Challenging the very Fates themselves, he burnt his own blood and
soul to open the passage for others to escape, even accepting the final sacrifice in the
Saint's stead. The Lord of Light did not bless him, but he enacted Divine Retribution
upon the darkness regardless.]
[You have defeated a Dormant Beast: Black Ooze.]
[You have defeated three thousand Dormant Beasts: Black Ooze.]
[You have defeated an Awakened Devil: Sentry of the Vines]
[You have defeated five hundred Awakened Devils: Sentry of the Vines]
[You have defeated a Corrupted Tyrant: Filthy Leviathan.]
[You have slain three hundred Fallen Demons: Glade Reaper][You have received the Sun God's blessing.]
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[You have received-Blessing of the Visionary]
[You have achieved the unimaginable!]
[Final appraisal: Illustrious!. Your determination truly knows no bounds.]
The Spell's voice, that cold, cosmic-ass automated teller of doom and glory, started listing off
my sins and triumphs. I listened, my non-existent jaw hanging open somewhere in this void.
Manipulated everyone? Okay, guilty as charged. Rallied the Saint? Theron probably would
have died if I wasn't there to take his place, and it seemed my action opened his worldview,
but I felt embarrassed with the credit.
Then there was the kill count.
[You have defeated three thousand Dormant Beasts…]
"Wait, hold on—" I tried to interrupt the void.
[…five hundred Awakened Devils…]
"Three *thousand*? What the actual fuck? I blew up a rock! I didn't fight them!"
**[…a Corrupted Tyrant…]
"A LEVIATHAN? I didn't even see a leviathan! Was it in the back?!"
[…three hundred Ascended Demons…]
I just… stopped. My mind went completely blank. The sheer, ridiculous, overkill scale of it
was too much. I'd vaporized a mountain top and the Spell was crediting me for every single
bug that got caught in the blast radius. It was the most insane, broken, exploit-level farming I
could possibly imagine. A hysterical laugh bubbled up, a sound of pure, unadulterated what-
the-fuck.
Then came the errors. The glitched text. The… blessings.
̈ ́ ͝ ̐̿ ̽ ̔[È̴ ͇͍̼̈ R̸ ̻͎̼͒ R̵ ͓̟͒ O ̵͇̻͉͌ ͘ R̸ ̙̘͚̾ ͘ … You have received-Blessing of the Visionary]
My mirth vanished, replaced by a shot of cold, electric shock. The Visionary? My Pathway?
That… that was the Curator's handiwork. That was a cheat code he'd slipped into the system.
That wasn't part of the loot table.
The final verdict dropped.
[Final appraisal: Illustrious!]
Silence.
For a full three seconds, there was nothing. Just the silent, swirling cosmos of the Spell's
inner workings.
Then the dam broke.
"Holy shit," I whispered into the nothingness. The words were flat, stunned. Then, louder, a
disbelieving crack of laughter. "HOLY SHIT! ILLUSTRIOUS?!"
A whirlwind of emotions tore through me. Elation, so sharp and bright it was painful.
Vindication—all that terror, all that guilt, it meant something! It was fucking worth
something! I hadn't just scraped by; I'd aced the test. I'd broken the curve.
But right on its heels came a darker, more complex current. A sickening sense of whiplash.
Jeryl's sad smile. The priests dissolving into light. Me, provoking a grieving man into a fight.
All of it, every brutal, ugly, necessary sacrifice, was now neatly packaged and labelled with a
shiny, S-tier rating. The Spell had turned our tragedy into a high score.
I felt exhilarated and sick to my stomach. I wanted to cheer and scream at the same time.
"Illustrious," I said again, the word tasting strange. It was too grand, too epic for what it felt
like. It felt like I'd just survived a car crash by accidentally launching myself through the
sunroof and landing in a pile of money.
And then, the gamer brain kicked in. The part of me that had min-maxed RPG characters and
hunted for achievements. Illustrious. What's above that? Mythical? Legendary? The glorious
that Sunny got? What do you get for that? What's the loot? What did the Blessing of the
Visionary actually do?
The fear was gone, burned away. What was left was a wild, hungry curiosity. A desperate
need to see what was on the next page. Like a kid in a candy shop, I felt giddy and for the
first time in weeks I couldn't wait to wake up in the Real World.
The Spell's beautiful, uncaring network pulsed around me. I was just a blip in its code. But I
was a blip with one hell of a high score.
[The First Seal is broken.][Awakening dormant powers…]
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[Interference detecting, running external sourcing...quick fix complete]
Huh?
[You have received a True Name: The True Creator]
You fucking what mate?
[Arise, True Creator]
********************************************************************
I opened my eyes feeling like I had just been reborn. Firstly because my body felt lighter,
fresher and more well-rested than it had been since my college days. And secondly because
the sudden intensity of the bright lights nearly made me cry out like a baby. A shadow moved
and stood over me, blocking out the lights, and I blinked away the last of the sun spots.
Looking up, I saw the same man who had walked me in here-was it Bruno? Marco?-whose
face remained just as flat as I remembered it. I opened my mouth, but took several seconds to
gather my voice.
"Uh...Hi?"
"Congratulation son surviving your first baptism, Sleeper Adam. As per Government
regulation , I am here to inform you of your new rights and responsibilities as a Dormant."
"Hey, uh, wait a second-!"
"Firstly, you are entitled to receive free psychological counselling from experienced
psychiatrists. No matter what traumatic experience you have encountered, there is no shamein asking for help. Many bottle it up, only to explode and harm those around them later. Do
have desire immediate therapy?"
"...no."
"Second: As a Sleeper, you are also entitled to enrol in the Awakened Academy. You'll be
provided with food, lodging and a wide choice of preparatory classes. You will get
acquainted with most of the people who will enter the Dream Realm with you. Whether they
become companions or rivals all comes down to luck and your own personality. Do you want
me to call someone to bring you to the Academy?"
"You won't do it yourself?"
"As an Awakened, I have better things to be doing."
I blinked at looked at the man (his name was Roberts, I remembered) but didn't see any
special designation on his uniform. Seeing my scrutiny, he calmly explained, "I prefer an
ordinary suit for work."
"Right. Um, well...yes, I would like to be brought to the Academy as soon a possible please.
May I know the date?"
"May 13th, 21XX" he replied with the same tone, at this point making me question if he was
a robot. Still, that was incredibly useful information to know. The Winter Solstice took place
in mid to late December if I remember correctly, meaning I had six or seven months to
prepare before being shuttled off into the Dream Realm for Round 2. Waaay better than
Sunless and Nephis had it, so I guess the Curator was actually quite a kind guy-or cosmic
God, rather,
"Right then. The third thing I have to tell you: at the Academy you will be asked about your
experiences, your Flaw, Aspect and other such information. Whether or not you want to
reveal this is up to you-I'm merely telling you this now so you can think on it. On that note,
can you see your Flaw and Attributes now?"
I looked down and, with a mental urging, a string of glowing white runes appeared before my
eyes. After a second or two, they shifted and morphed into plain English, enabling me to read
them.
[All power has a price.]
[You have received a Flaw.]
[Your Flaw is: Justice][Flaw Description: Justice indicates that the fairest decision will be made. Justice is the
sword that cuts through a situation and will not be swayed by outer beauty when
deciding what is fair and just. Your decisions and methods will not be distracted by
emotions, being driven by logic and necessity.]
Ah, shit.
Roberts watched me read the Runes with a furrowed brow before letting out a small sigh. His
voice shifted several degrees, taking on a slightly more comforting tone, "Listen kid, Flaws
can be lethal, but everybody has one. No matter how bad yours is, remember that someone
out there probably has it worse."
Sure, I knew that, Sunny was just one misfortunate conversation away from becoming
someone's dog, while Nephis dealt with agony manifest every time she used her power.
Cassie had it bad too, but the witch deserved it in her case. But I wasn't afraid of my Flaw
crippling me like that. No, what I feared was the same thing I thought about back in the
temple: would following the Acting Method and aligning myself with the Divinity within the
Visionary Pathway alter and change me? Now, it seems, I had the inkling of an answer.
It wouldn't outright make me a cold, heartless machine, but it would still pose a problem
when working in teams. Being willing to sacrifice weaker members to achieve a goal would
make it extremely difficult to fit in with cohorts who depend on each other to survive. It
could be worse though, as Roberts clamed, since my Flaw didn't force me to drive for success
with 100% of my effort. I would probably only choose to actually sacrifice others if the
situation was extreme enough for it. Justice was fair after all, and would only ever meet the
problem with an appropriate solution. Still, the prospect of gradual corruption sliding into my
brain made me feel nauseous all over again.
Seeing my condition turn towards the worst, Roberts sighed and moved towards the door
after undoing my straps. "I'll call the driver outside, they should arrive in around fifteen. Take
that time to collect and familiarise yourself with your interface and Aspect. I wish you good
fortune, Sleeper Adam."
Once Roberts was gone, I took his advice to heart and moved on to the other new additions to
my interface.
****************************************************
Name: Adam
True Name: The True CreatorRank: Dreamer.
Soul Core: Demon [3/7].
Memories: Unshadowed Crucifix
Echoes: —
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Attributes: [Uniqueness of Visionary], [Flame of Divinity], [Blessed of I ̵
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Aspect: [Visionary].
Aspect Rank: [Divine].
Aspect Description: [The Visionary Pathway is adept at psychological manipulation.
Authority over Mind, Discernment, and Imagination. They hold the symbols of
Creator and The Ruler of The Mind World, granting
partial Omnipotence and Omniscience within that Domain]
Aspect Abilities: [Spectator, Telepathist, ???, ???, ???, ???, ???, ???, ???, Visionary
(1/1)].
[Spectator: A Spectator receives great enhancement, mostly on their inferential,
analytical, observational, and identification abilities along with their
memory. Spectators possess keen powers of observation when it comes to observing
individuals in either an individual or group sense. They can look at a person strictly
from a bystander's perspective, discovering their true thoughts from their expressions,
their manners, and their subconscious actions. Through this, they can accurately figure
out connections and draw conclusions from the details they gathered to form an
accurate mental model of the target. A Spectator will also possess the sharpened
eyesight needed to analyse a target's body language.][Telepathist: Telepathists are able to read the superficial thoughts of others and are also
able to simulate the trajectory of such thoughts to a certain degree. A
Telepathist's observation is not only limited to superficial details, but deeper into one's
aura, Ether Body, or other mysterious domains. They also know what kind of emotional
reaction to show in the appropriate situation and know in detail what kind of expression
and body language to react with. Their eyesight has been further enhanced, being much
clearer than before.]
[Visionary: As the master of the Mind World, the Visionary holds dominion over all
mental realms. In essence, They are the embodiment of Humanity: Humanity is both
good and evil, rational and mad. Humanity arises naturally but can also be
manufactured artificially by the Visionary. As the The Ruler of The Mind World, the
Visionary can also be, in a sense, Omniscient, but this effect is limited to matters related
to the Mind World. Their Discernment can also extend into the Fate, Reality, and
Illusion Domains. They hold some Dream authority- the concept of Dreams itself. They
hold partial authority over Loss of Control, the cause of one's descent into corruption.]
[Envisioning (1/1): You can Envision a singular item, whether it be an inanimate object,
a person or a conceptual incarnation. The better your understanding of the subject, and
the more similar its power to you, the better the effect. Envisioned items cannot be
resummoned upon destruction, but can exist independently even if the summoner dies
and have their own Essence pool by default. Envisioned lifeforms do not need substance
to survive but have all biological functions unlocked if they desire to use them.]
Flaw: Justice
Flaw Description: Justice indicates that the fairest decision will be made. Justice is the
sword that cuts through a situation and will not be swayed by outer beauty when
deciding what is fair and just. Your decisions and methods will not be distracted by
emotions, being driven by logic and necessity.
******************************************************
Reading down the list, the two things that caught my attention were obviously my number of
Soul Cores, and my newly unlocked ability: Envisioning. I knew what that was, the core
power of a Sequence 0 Visionary, but the fact I had unlocked was insane enough that I nearly
blacked out. Forcing myself to remain calm, I focused on the relatively less shocking sight ofmy Soul Cores. According to the Spell, I had killed around 4,000 Nightmare Creatures while
self-destructing the Radiance. How I had actually survived that long enough for the Spell to
pull me out was nothing short of divine intervention by the way, but I guess Papa Curator was
looking out for me in ways I couldn't comprehend. Anyways, I only received one Memory
from the whole thing, which was complete fucking bullshit, but now I guess it made sense.
Unless my Aspect functioned like Sunless' did, and I could only gain points proportionate to
the direct Rank of my foes, then I should have been halfway through Devil by no. Coupled
with my lack of Memories, I guess the Spell or Curator capped the amount of "EXP" I could
grind from my first Nightmare. Still, just this would put me way ahead of any other Sleeper
in the world.
Though Nephis would also become a Demon by the end of the Forgotten Shore arc,
absolutely thrashing Sunny in their fight.
...With that out of the way, let's talk about the elephant in the room: my new Aspect Ability.
"Whoa. Okay. Hold up." I blinked, eyes seeming to shimmer with new potential. "You're
telling me I can just... think stuff into existence?"
A grin spread across my face, wide and incredulous, and I was glad Roberts had left so I
wouldn't embarrass myself. "Dude. That is so broken. That's the most busted thing I've ever
heard."
"An item? A person? Bro, I could literally envision, like, a perfect cheeseburger. Right now.
With extra bacon. Or... or a full-on, top-tier gaming PC that never lags. Holy crap, the
possibilities!"
The initial, glorious wave of memes and instant gratification slowly gave way to the cooler,
more calculating part of the ability's description. The part about understanding. The part
about similarity.
"Okay, okay, so it's not just a 'get whatever I want' button," I mused, scratching my chin. "It's
like... a super-powered 3D printer that runs on my brain's blueprints. The better I know it, the
less it glitches. And if I try to make, like, a god or something way out of my league, it'll
probably just be a crappy knock-off. Fair enough. Balance patch appreciated, I guess."
Then the final clause hit me. The independence part.
"Wait, they get their own Essence? They stick around even if I bite it?" My eyes went wide
with a new kind of excitement, one mixed with a healthy dose of "oh this could go so
wrong."
"That's... that's insane. That's not a summon, that's creation. I could make a Gundam! A real
one!" The loneliness of my new existence, the mask I'd have to wear in the real world, the
potential twisting of my Flaw, momentarily lifted at the thought.
But then my modern, meme-saturated brain immediately took a hard left into chaos."...Or I could make, like, a Stand. I could totally make a Stand.『ZA WARUDO』or
something! Would it have its own personality? Could it yell 'Muda Muda Muda' for me? This
is the best power ever!"
I burst out laughing, the sound echoing in the room. The sheer absurdity of it all—the cosmic
horror, the sacrifice, now culminating in the ability to potentially manifest a JoJo reference—
was too much.
It was stupid. It was glorious. It was terrifyingly powerful if used right, and a hilarious
disaster if used wrong.
When I had finally gained enough control to stop laughing, the smile faded from my face.
The rational part of my mind kicked in again, and I suddenly felt like my soul had been
sucked out. The mania I had just experienced was a stress response, I knew, sent out to
relieve the weeks of anxiety and strain I had put my mind, body and soul under while in the
First Nightmare. It might seem all fun and games, but I could clearly sense my mental state
was a little too close to fine glass for my liking. Maybe I should take Roberts' offer up for
that therapy session.
Speaking of the man, only a minute later I heard a knock on the door. "Your driver is here to
pick you up. I hope you've calmed down."
I wondered if the room's walls had blocked my fit of hysterics before putting on a calm face
and walking out into the corridor. Roberts escorted me out of the station, and the guard at the
reception gave me a firm nod as I passed by. Whether it was because another soul had
escaped damnation, or just because he was glad he didn't have to handle extra paperwork, I
nodded back regardless.
The silence in the sleek, black military car was heavier than the Radiance's drain. I slumped
in the backseat, watching the battered slums of the outer city blur into the cleaner, fortified
structures of the central district. The driver hadn't said a word. Not a "hello," not a "where
to." He'd just held up a sign with "CADAVER" scrawled on it—morbid, but efficient—and
gestured for Adam to get in. The guy didn't even glance in the rear-view mirror. It was like
driving a piece of furniture.
Guess 'Illustrious' doesn't get you the chatty service, I thought, a wry smirk touching my
lips. Or maybe this is just the standard 'welcome to being government property' package.
I could feel the driver's tension, though. The rigid set of his shoulders. The way his knuckles
were white on the wheel. To him, I wasn't quite a person; I was a recently defrosted
Nightmare bomb, fragile and potentially volatile. An object to be delivered carefully.
When the car finally glided to a stop before a set of imposing, gunmetal-grey gates, the driver
finally broke the silence without turning around. "Out. Security checkpoint is ahead. They're
expecting you."
"Thanks for the ride," I said, my voice still a little rough. "Five stars. Great
conversationalist."The driver didn't react. The locks clicked open.
Shaking my head, I shouldered my meagre bag—containing the clothes on his back and a few
things Father Malachi left me—and stepped out. The gates slid open with a hydraulic hiss,
revealing a stark, modern complex that looked more like a high-security prison than a school.
Awakened Academy. The name sounded so cool in the web novels. In reality, it looked like a
place you got processed.
The security procedure was… intense. Retina scans, blood pricks for DNA matching, a full-
body scanner that probably saw his bones and his soul. A stern-faced woman in a crisp
uniform ran through a list of regulations so long it made his head spin. No unauthorized use
of Abilities on campus. All Nightmare excursions must be pre-approved and logged. Theory
and Combat classes recommended. Blah, blah, blah.
He nodded along, the whole thing feeling surreal. Yesterday, he was burning his soul out to
save a temple. Today, he was getting a student ID and a list of dorm rules.
Finally, with a soft beep, the last door slid open. The woman gave him a curt nod. "You're
cleared. Welcome to the Academy, Sleeper. Your orientation packet is on your assigned
terminal. Dormitory B, room 214."
And just like that, he was in.
The air inside was different. Clean, filtered, humming with a low-level energy he could feel
in his teeth. Students moved through the wide corridors in small groups. Some looked
normal, if tired. Others had faint, shimmering auras, or eyes that glowed with subtle power. A
guy with skin that looked like polished marble walked past without a glance.
No one paid him much attention. He was just another new face, another piece of fresh meat
for the grinder.
A slow grin spread across my face, the serious mask from the checkpoint melting away. I was
inside. I'd survived the fucking nightmare, aced the test, and now I was in the VIP lounge.
For the next nine months at least.
Game on.
*************************************************
The scale of it was the first thing that hit me. It was immense, a cavernous space that made
the grandest cathedral from my old world look like a dollhouse. And it was built of death.
Pitch-black stone columns, smooth and cold as obsidian, soared towards a vaulted ceiling lost
in shadow. But they weren't just stone. Every surface—every column, every sweeping arch,
every curve of the distant domes—was inlaid with bones. A mosaic of remains, fused
seamlessly into the dark rock. I saw ribs that could have been from a giant, delicate fingerbones that looked elven, thick, heavy skulls that spoke of dwarven stock, and countless others
I couldn't identify. It was a library of species, a architectural record of mortality.
And in the centre of it all, a cross.
It wasn't wood. pure white marble, and it was colossal, stretching a hundred meters tall, a
stark, silent monument. There was no pattern or symbols on it, the cross was as blank as the
one I wore around my neck. That was intentional I suppose.
An overwhelming, profound holiness saturated the air, a sense of peace so absolute it felt
heavier than the silence. This wasn't a tomb, despite what its' appearance may suggest; it was
a reliquary. A sacred, sombre museum of the departed.
What held my attention the longest was the blob of soft, silver-gold light floating in front of
the cross. It was hard to distinguish, as it seemed t both pour from the cross, while the cross
also seems to be drawing on it to maintain form. I recognised it almost instantly for what it
was. My Soul Core.
This was a cathedral. But not for the living. It was a cathedral for the dead, and the being that
presided over it all. And it was one I was somewhat familiar with. Not intimately, there
wasn't enough of a presence for that, but through who it originally belonged to. This was
meant to be Adam's Divine Kingdom, the Corpse Cathedral.
And now it was my fucking Soul Sea.