Now here he was—sitting alone in his dorm room.
It had a bed with a soft mattress, a study table, a dresser, and even a separate bathroom. The furnishings were clean, modern, and tastefully arranged. The air was warm and faintly scented with something sterile, and the outer wall—though seemingly made of solid alloy—featured a hidden display screen that mimicked a vast, panoramic window. Through it, a peaceful snowy park stretched out beneath a cloudy gray sky.
There were even several fresh sets of clothes folded neatly in the corner. Each one bore the emblem of the Awakened Academy, offered free of charge.
'How extravagant,' Sunny thought, a little dazed.
Rationally, he knew this wasn't true luxury—not by the standards of the central city. But to him, someone who had grown up sleeping on cracked floors and under rusted roofs in the Outskirts, this space was a palace. His own private sanctuary.
He scratched the back of his head, slowly taking it all in.
"Looks like… I've made it?" he said aloud, only half-joking.
Glancing down, he winked at his shadow.
"I guess we're moving up in the world, huh?"
The shadow didn't respond. It rarely did. And if it held an opinion, it kept it to itself.
'Right. What would a stupid shadow know?'
His smile faltered slightly.
His eyes wandered to the corner of the room, where a communicator device sat on the desk—sleek and humming softly. Jet had mentioned it would allow him to reach out to Academy staff, and even contact people outside the facility.
…Like Aveline.
He stared at it for a moment, then looked away with a sigh.
He didn't really know how to use it yet. And more than that, he wasn't sure he should.
She was with Jet now. Safe. Warm. Fed. Probably somewhere far better than this—even if that felt impossible to imagine.
'A Master's home must be better than this, right?'
Even so, he couldn't help but wonder what kind of room she was in. If she had her own bed. If she liked it. If she missed him.
If she was troubling Jet too much.
Sunny leaned back on the mattress, folding his arms behind his head.
He didn't want to cause any more problems than he already had. Jet had done far too much for them—more than they had any right to expect. And even though she had insisted, even though she had offered, he hated the feeling of depending on someone. Hated the tug in his chest when he thought of Aveline being watched over because he couldn't.
"Just a little while," he murmured to the ceiling. "Just until we can stand on our own."
Still, he hoped Aveline was smiling. Laughing. Teasing someone, maybe.
He smiled faintly at the thought.
Then, remembering something, he sat up on the bed and summoned his runes.
It was finally time to examine the treasure he had brought out of the Nightmare.
Memory: [Puppeteer's Shroud]
Memory Rank: Awakened
Memory Type: Armor
Memory Description:[A worm of doubt once found its way into a righteous king's heart. Over time, the king was devoured from within and became its puppet. A lifetime later, the Puppeteer Worm escaped from the king's corpse, leaving behind a cocoon of black silk. No one knows where it went. However, when people dared to enter the silent castle, they found the silk resting among mountains of gnawed bones… and fashioned it into an armor.]
Sunny frowned.
"That's not creepy at all," he muttered sarcastically. "Yeah. Totally normal. I'm not disturbed in the slightest."
Still, the thought lingered. The first creature he'd killed in the Nightmare had been called a larva. If that had been an infant version… and if the tyrannical Mountain King had been the mature form of the same species…
Then what the hell happens when it turns into a moth?
He shuddered. Nope. Better not to think about it.
With a resigned sigh, Sunny summoned the Shroud.
Thin black threads slithered into existence and wrapped around his body, weaving themselves into a seamless set of armor. It looked like soft, matte-gray fabric reinforced with carefully placed leather elements—bracers, shoulder guards, knee pads. The material hugged his frame snugly, restricting nothing. And when he moved, it made no sound at all.
Lightweight. Silent. Flexible.
Perfect for someone who preferred to lurk in the shadows.
Sunny allowed a grin to form on his face. The Shroud wasn't just comfortable—it was strong. Against anything below the Awakened rank, it was virtually impenetrable. More than that, he could feel something subtle shift within his mind as he wore it. A faint stillness settled in his chest.
'A worm of doubt, 'he mused. 'Does that mean it protects against mind attacks?'
He didn't know for sure, but his instincts told him yes. The strange calm he felt couldn't be coincidence.
A worthy reward, taken from a tyrant. One more step forward.
The only downside?
"Well," Sunny sighed, tugging at the fabric. "It definitely wasn't meant to be worn over full clothes."
Still, small price to pay.
Next, Sunny summoned the Memory he had received from Auro—the fallen Hero of the Nine.
Memory: [Nobility of Harrowing Fate]
Memory Rank: Awakened
Memory Type: Charm
Memory Description:[
The Hero of Nine,
Was bright and shine,
But lay behind, the harrowing fate of nine.
He stood and walked, alone and lone,
He met a shadow, who broke fate—that his own.
Now embraced death, his lips whispered his longing,
As he left behind his only belonging—
His fate.
And so the one who was fated to die, lived.
And the one who was fated to live, died. ]
The description floated before him in glowing script, the words almost humming with ancient resonance. It was unlike any other Memory he had ever seen—half poem, half riddle, full of sorrow and quiet grandeur.
Sunny stared at the runes for a long moment. The verses struck something deep in him, some chord of recognition. The rhythm was simple, almost childish, but the weight of it… was anything but.
The charm shimmered into form in the air above his palm. It was a small, intricate pendant made of deep obsidian glass, cracked faintly down its center. A chain of soft, white metal wrapped around it like a protective spiral. The contrast between darkness and light was hauntingly beautiful.
https://pin.it/1m4RO3HEM link to the image (ai gen by me)
He held it up to his eyes.
So this… was all that remained of Auro. A hero of shining destiny, killed by a nobody with no name and no fate. A symbol of grandeur, shattered. And all of it, reduced to this elegant, broken charm.
Sunny's expression was unreadable. His thoughts a quiet whirlwind.
He had killed Auro. Not just physically—but conceptually. He had overturned prophecy itself, pierced through fate like it was a flimsy curtain, and walked out the other side untouched.
The memory itself didn't exude power like the Puppeteer's Shroud. It didn't radiate defense or concealment. And yet—somehow—it felt heavier. Denser. Like it carried a thousand regrets sewn into its core.
He ran his fingers across the crack in the charm.
"Bright and shine… harrowing fate…"
Was it a poem Auro had written himself? A lament? Or had the Memory forged the verse on its own, from the echo of what had happened in that cursed trial?
He didn't know.
But one line stayed with him, louder than the others:
The one who was fated to die, lived… and the one who was fated to live, died.
A shiver crawled down his spine.
The runes still glowed faintly as he inspected its traits. The charm, once worn, seemed to do something strange. It didn't boost physical strength. It didn't amplify magic.
Instead, it twisted probability. Not drastically. Not in a showy, bombastic way.
But subtly.
Situations that should have turned against the wearer… didn't. Blows that should have landed… narrowly missed. Enemies who should have noticed… glanced the other way.
Fate, it seemed, bent just slightly around the one who wore it.
Sunny clenched his fist around the charm.
Not control over luck, not divine protection. Just the faintest nudge—barely perceptible—but enough to turn certain death into survivable danger.
A part of him found it fitting. Auro's legacy, living on not as a mighty sword or blazing armor, but as a quiet rebellion against destiny itself.
And now, it belonged to him—a nobody from the Outskirts.
He slid the charm over his head, feeling its cold weight settle against his chest.
The world didn't shift. Nothing exploded. But something felt different. Like the air had thickened by a hair's breadth. Like he now stood one step to the left of where the threads of fate wanted him to be.
A ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips.
"Thanks, Auro. I'll put it to good use."
And with that, Sunny leaned back onto the soft mattress of his palace-like dorm, hands folded behind his head, staring at the artificial sky projected above.
Now armed with the Shroud of a tyrant and the charm of a fallen hero, he closed his eyes—just for a moment.
Still thinking of Aveline.
Still wondering what tomorrow would bring.
Sunny left his room and made straight for the cafeteria.
'Not bad, not bad,' he mused, tallying up all the rewards he had earned during and after the First Nightmare.
The supper was as lavish as the dormitory. At last, his wish to taste real meat came true: thick slices of roast, freely available—and without ration limits. Rice, fresh bread, vegetables, fruit, stews, sauces, pitchers of juice… and even coffee for those brave enough to risk insomnia.
Extravagant. Sunny piled a modest mountain onto his tray, steering well clear of the coffee urn, and found an open seat. The first bite of perfectly seasoned meat burst across his tongue; he nearly moaned aloud. For a blissful moment the entire world narrowed to flavor and warmth.
'And to think, 'he lamented, 'I could have lived like this for a whole year—if the Spell had only tagged me a few months sooner.'
The mountain disappeared in record time. Over‑full yet wistful for seconds, he checked the clock: nearly time for his intake interview. With the air of a condemned man leaving paradise, he returned the tray and headed for Administration.
The office was small but pleasant: soft lighting, potted plant in the corner, a smiling clerk in Academy blue.
"Welcome, Sleeper Sunless," the clerk began, genial professionalism in every syllable. "First, we're required to offer post‑Nightmare counseling. Would you like us to schedule a session?"
Sunny remembered Jet's warning. "No, thank you."
"Very well." The clerk tapped a datapad. "If you're willing to share, what type of Aspect Ability did you awaken—combat, sorcery, utility?"
"I… haven't figured that out yet," Sunny said truthfully. "Still testing the waters."
"Understood. Does it deliver any direct damage?"
"I doubt it. Earlier I couldn't even harm a towel."
So it went. The clerk's questions were politely phrased—"Would you mind…?" "If you feel comfortable…"—which let Sunny deflect or underplay every detail. By the end of the interview his Aspect sounded weak, harmless, and vaguely utilitarian. Exactly as planned.
Paperwork complete, Sunny trudged back to his room. He undressed, stretched out on the soft mattress, and exhaled into feather‑pillowed bliss.
I hope Avi's room is half this nice, he thought, picturing her wide purple and violet eyes and the shy way she'd accepted Jet's hand.
'She'd probably bounce on the bed until it broke.' He wished he could call, but the communicator on his nightstand was still a mystery of icons and sub‑menus.
'I'll figure it out tomorrow—Jet's quarters must be better than this, anyway. And Avi… please don't give her too much trouble.'
The thoughts drifted; the room's simulated window dimmed to a velvet night sky. For the first time since waking from the Nightmare, Sunny felt perfectly safe.
He fell asleep in seconds, a faint smile on his lips——and thus ended his first day at the Awakened Academy.