Damn. He really does look like a bear.
The giant man had wide shoulders, an athletic build and a gorgeous brown beard. His eyes were calm and serious. He reminded Hermes of Chewbacca from Star Wars, though he suspected saying so out loud would not go over well.
After reaching the centre of the stage, the man gave the assembled Sleepers a long, unhurried look.
Then he spoke, in a voice that resonated through the hall like it had come from somewhere considerably deeper than a chest.
"I am Awakened Rock. Sleepers, welcome to the Academy."
Nobody made a sound.
"In less than a month, you will be summoned to the Dream Realm. Some of you might think that you are well prepared." He paused. "You are wrong. The Spell is merciless and cunning. The moment Awakened begin to think too much of themselves, they die. I have seen countless Sleepers like you lose their lives. I have seen experienced Masters lose theirs. Even Saints are not assured to survive."
That sure gives me confidence, Hermes thought. Though he understood where the man was coming from. Better a cold splash of reality now than well dying a painful death.
"In the following four weeks, we will do everything in our power to increase your chances of survival. You will receive training from the best instructors in the world. However, do not be misled by their fame: in the end, whether you return from the Dream Realm alive depends on only one person. You. The responsibility to survive is yours, and yours alone."
Around him, Hermes could see the fear spreading quietly through the non Legacy Sleepers. The Legacy kids looked unmoved, which told him everything he needed to know about the gap between them.
Awakened Rock continued.
"You are not children anymore. It is a shame, because you ought to be. But the Spell has decided otherwise. You have been to the First Nightmare, so you already know what it is like. Your parents, your teachers and your friends cannot help you anymore."
Mr. Obvious, Hermes thought, and then immediately wondered, if the man shaved off all his body hair, would he look like the Rock? The actual Rock. Dwayne Johnson. He stared at the beard for a moment trying to calculate it and concluded the answer was probably yes.
Awakened Rock paused, letting the silence do its work on the room, then gave a short nod and continued.
"Now we will talk about the difference between Nightmares and the Dream Realm."
He explained the lore with meticulous detail, exactly as it had been laid out in the novel, which meant Hermes had heard all of it before and spent most of it nodding at appropriate intervals.
"If you cannot locate or are unable to reach the nearest human Citadel," Rock concluded, "search for an unclaimed Gateway. It will usually be inside or near the most prominent landmark of the region. Work together to defeat its guardians and come back alive."
He gave them all a heavy look.
"That is all for today. Follow the instructions sent to your communicators to find your assigned dormitories. Once settled, proceed to the cafeteria for supper. There will be interviews after that to help prepare your suggested curriculums. Get a good night's rest." A short nod. "Your training starts tomorrow."
He left the stage without ceremony.
Hermes turned to Nephis.
"Well. See you around." He gave a small wave. "Bye."
She nodded.
"Bye," she said, with the thoughtful quality of someone who had just encountered something unexpected and was not entirely sure what to make of it yet.
He followed the instructions on his communicator to his assigned room.
It was basic. A bed, a table, a dresser, a bathroom that was entirely his own. That last detail stopped him for a moment. University accommodation had been five to ten students sharing three toilets and two showers, a situation that had taught him more about human nature than any philosophy course.
This was a single room with a private bathroom and he was choosing to be grateful for it rather than think about the fact that he was going to be sleeping in it for a month before being dropped into a dimension full of things that wanted to kill him.
There was a window. Or rather, a screen playing a vista of a snowy park in seamless high definition, which gave the room the particular quality of a place that was trying very hard to feel normal. It gave him mild apocalyptic vibes. He couldn't say why exactly.
He changed into the Academy-issued clothes and caught his reflection in the mirror.
Boy, he thought. I really am good looking.
Then he remembered something.
"Let's see what toy Master Jet got me," he said, to no one in particular, and summoned the memory.
—
Memory: [Penitent Spear]
Memory Rank: Ascended
Memory Tier: II
Memory Type: Weapon — Spear
Memory Description: [Once wielded by a warrior renowned for his flawless skill. It was said that no strike of his ever failed and no enemy could escape his spear. Yet skill could not restrain his desires. When he wronged an innocent woman, she seized the weapon that had earned him fame and drove it straight through his heart. The spear did not falter. It never does.]
Memory Enchantment: [Unerring Path]
Enchantment Description: [This spear always strikes true. Whether thrust or thrown, the weapon will guide itself toward its intended mark, ensuring the wielder's strike does not falter.]
—
Hermes stared at it for a long moment.
The memory description gave him pause.
A warrior of flawless skill. Renowned. Celebrated. And underneath all of it, someone who had looked at a person weaker than himself and decided that his desires mattered more than her dignity. The weapon that had made him famous had ended him. Justice, in the bluntest possible form.
Good, he thought, with a quietness that surprised him slightly.
He filed it away and moved on to the enchantment.
Aimbot. It was simply aimbot. The spear was the king of weapons for a reason, not because it was difficult but because it wasn't. A sword required training, technique, years of refinement. A spear was a pointy stick. Point it at the enemy. That was the whole lesson. Peasants had been handed spears for the entirety of human history for exactly this reason. Jet had been considerate, she hadn't given him something that would require a decade of practice to use. She had given him something he could pick up tomorrow and survive with.
With Unerring Path on top of that he didn't even need good aim. He just needed to throw it.
Master Jet, he thought, with genuine awe. You absolute woman.
She must have been genuinely wealthy to give this away so casually. An Ascended Tier II weapon memory, handed to a stranger she had known for less than a day.
Thank you. My life belongs to you.
He paused.
Given how I phrased that this morning, I should probably find a different way to express gratitude going forward.