Aren's eyes snapped open to a nightmare.
He was lying atop a jagged mountain of rubble. Around him, the world was broken shattered skyscrapers leaned like skeletal remains, and the roads were gouged with craters so deep they looked like scars on the earth.
An entire city had been erased, replaced by a gray horizon of devastation. Through the haze of dust, a figure approached. Aren tried to focus, but the man's face remained an unrecognizable blur.
Without a word, the man scooped Aren into his arms and began to sprint. His breathing was ragged, fueled by a desperate, clawing panic. "Don't worry," the man gasped, his voice straining against the wind. "Hold on. We're going to make it out of here."
Aren's world was a swirl of motion and static. Everything was distorted, like a fever dream. Suddenly, the man skidded to a halt. His entire body began to vibrate with a primal, bone-deep terror.
Standing in their path was a creature that defied nature. It stood six feet tall, a monstrous fusion of man and beast. It possessed four muscular arms, a snout filled with rows of interlocking crocodile teeth, and skin as thick and weathered as a rhinoceros's hide.
A Demon.
As Aren locked eyes with the monster, his soul recoiled. With a roar that shook the air, the demon lunged. It was a blur faster than a cheetah springing from cover. In the blink of an eye, it was upon them, raising a set of obsidian-sharp claws to deliver a lethal strike
Aren screamed.
He jolted upright, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. As he gasped for air, he realized he was back in the jungle the same patch of dirt where Archer had left him for dead.
"Again… that same dream," Aren whispered, wiping cold sweat from his brow.
Was it just a dream? Or was it a jagged, repressed fragment of a childhood memory he had spent years trying to bury?
Night had fallen over the canopy. As Aren stood up, he froze in shock. The massive, gaping fissure he had fallen into was gone. The ground was solid, unbroken by any crack or hole.
"How? Was it all an illusion? Was I dreaming the whole time?"
As doubt began to settle in his gut, a deep, resonant voice vibrated inside his skull.
"Everything was real."
Aren jumped, spinning around in the darkness. "Who's there?" he shouted, but the clearing was empty. Then, his eyes widened. "T-that voice… Varkas? Is that you?"
"Yes," the voice echoed within his mind. "It is I."
The reality of the encounter hit Aren with the force of a tidal wave. "How are you doing this? You were imprisoned in that realm."
"Do not forget you are my Vessel now," Varkas replied with a serious weight. "I can speak to you whenever I wish."
Aren swallowed hard. He remembered his studies: Vessels were the mortal conduits for the Divine. He was no longer just a "Null."
"Listen carefully, Aren," Varkas continued. "I have granted you only ten percent of my power. But do not let that number fool you. With that ten percent alone, you could reduce an entire city to dust with a single, focused strike."
Aren's breath hitched. He looked at his shaking hands. "I really… have that much power?"
"Use it with caution," Varkas warned, his voice turning grave. "A single moment of carelessness, and everything will be lost."
"Can I really control something like this?" Aren asked, fear creeping into his tone.
Varkas let out a soft, low chuckle. "I believe you can. But remember this and this is vital: never reveal your true power in front of another Vessel."
"Why?" Aren asked, confused.
"That is not a truth you are ready for. Just remember my words. When the time is right, I will explain everything." With those final words, the presence in Aren's mind faded away.
"Wait! I still have questions! Varkas! Varkas!"
But the silence of the jungle was the only reply.
Aren left the woods and navigated the dark streets toward the housing district. Like many who had lost their families to the Demon Wars, Aren lived in a tiny quarter provided by The Order. It was a grim, cramped space barely large enough for his rickety bed and a small, scarred table.
He collapsed onto the mattress, staring at the ceiling. Was Varkas telling the truth? Am I really that strong? He lay there until he remembered the time.
Tomorrow was the day. He had to leave for the A.H.A. He stood up, stuffed his few sets of clothes into an old bag, and lay back down.
The next morning, the school was electric.
"I saw A.H.A. on TV! It's ten times bigger than this city!" a girl exclaimed to her friends.
"I heard The Order recruited a million graduates straight into the army last year," a boy added, his voice full of ambition.
While the others cheered, Archer sat hunched at his desk, his face pale and drawn.
"Relax, Archer. Everything's fine," a boy whispered the same lackey who had helped him in the jungle. "Nobody will even notice that a Null like him is gone."
Archer hesitated, forcing a nod. "Yeah… yeah, you're right. Why should I be afraid?"
But the moment he looked toward the door, his heart skipped a beat. His jaw dropped, and his eyes bulged in pure, unadulterated disbelief.
"No… this… this can't be."
Trembling, Archer watched as Aren walked calmly into the room. Aren ignored the stares, his mind still reeling from Varkas's words.
Suddenly, a voice cracked through the chatter like a whip. "Aren! I need to talk to you alone!"
It was Archer. His face was a mask of gaurded fury and hidden fear. How is he standing there? Archer thought. I crushed his face with my own hands. How is he completely healed?
Aren looked at him, his blood boiling as he remembered the previous day, but he forced himself to stay calm.
Archer leaned in, his voice a low, vicious snarl. "How?"
Aren tilted his head, feigning ignorance. "What are you talking about, Archer? I don't understand."
That was the spark. Archer's temper exploded. He activated his power, his skin hardening into jagged stone. He seized Aren by the collar, hauling him upward.
"Do you think I'm an idiot? You think you can act clever with me, you worthless Null?!"
Archer drove a stone-reinforced punch straight into Aren's stomach.
The entire class gasped.
"I can't believe he's beating him even on the last day," someone whispered.
The sound of the impact was heavy a dull, metallic thud. Everyone expected Aren to collapse, coughing blood. But when the dust settled, they froze.
Aren was standing perfectly still.
Archer's eyes went wide. He had hit Aren with enough force to shatter a brick wall. Aren felt the pain, but it was strange it felt like a dull ache rather than a bone-breaking blow.
The silence in the room became suffocating. The other students began to whisper, wondering if Archer had held back. The embarrassment pushed Archer into a blind rage.
"Don't mock me!" he roared, throwing a second punch with every ounce of his strength.
Aren dropped to his knees, lowering his head. The class winced, assuming the fight was over. Archer let out a jagged, arrogant laugh.
"What's the matter, 'hero'? Is that all you've got?"
Archer grabbed Aren's collar with both hands, trying to hoist his limp body into the air.
Suddenly, Aren's hands shot up. He locked his grip around Archer's stone wrists.
Archer tried to lift him, but it was like trying to pull an oak tree from the earth. Aren was immovable. His head remained lowered, but a faint, predatory red light began to glow in his eyes.
Archer strained, his veins bulging, but he couldn't budge Aren an inch.
"What's happening to Aren?" a girl whispered in horror.
"Where did he get this strength?"
Archer struggled desperately, but Aren's grip was like a steel vise. Just as the tension reached a breaking point, a deep, commanding voice boomed through the room.
"Aren. Archer."
It was Mr. Bert. Aren immediately released Archer's hands and stood up, the red glow in his eyes vanishing.
Mr. Bert scanned the room with a sharp gaze. "The wormholes are ready. Form a line and proceed to the courtyard." He paused, looking directly at the two boys. "Aren you go first."
Aren picked up his bag and walked out without a word. The rest of the class followed in a stunned silence.
Archer stood alone for a moment, staring at his hands. They were still covered in stone, but he was shaking. Across the grey, rocky surface of his knuckles, fine, jagged cracks had formed as if he had struck something much harder than a human body.
"You're hiding something, Aren," Archer hissed to the empty room. "And I will find out what it is."
Outside, the school ground had been transformed. Four massive circular metal portals stood in the center of the field, each linked to a giant, diamond-shaped blue crystal.
"My first time traveling through a wormhole," one boy said, his voice a mix of awe and terror.
"Is it safe?" another asked nervously.
A girl nearby spoke up confidently. "It's perfectly safe. The Order stabilized the pressure fields after the Second Great Demon War." She took a steady breath. "The internal field mimics Earth's atmosphere. There's no vacuum and no gravity shock."
As she finished, the portals ignited. Swirling vortexes of shimmering blue light filled the frames.
Even Aren found himself staring in awe. He had never seen a wormhole so close.
Mr. Bert began moving through the crowd, handing out departure slips. Each paper contained a name, age, power, and an assigned group.
Aren looked at his: Group D.
What does that mean? he wondered.
"Students!" Mr. Bert shouted. "Proceed to the portal assigned to your group."
One by one, the students stepped into the light. Aren walked toward the Group D portal at the end of the line. As he looked over, he saw Archer entering the Group B portal. Archer turned one last time, throwing a look of pure hatred at Aren before disappearing into the vortex.
Aren took a deep, steady breath and closed his eyes. I don't know what A.H.A. has in store for me, he thought. But I won't be their victim anymore.
He opened his eyes, stepped forward, and let the light swallow him whole.