《A Nightmare of a Dream》 No! It Cant Be! The amber glow of sunset bled across the city skyline, casting long shadows over empty streets. Somewhere in the distance, laughter echoed, but it felt faint and far away. Ryu opened his eyes, his breath ragged, heart racing as though he''d woken mid-fall. And then, the world collapsed. Or so it seemed, but then he regained his vision. The bench beneath him seemed cold and unfamiliar, the texture of rough wood pressing against his palms like a jagged warning. He wiped a sheen of sweat from his forehead, grimacing at the sensation. A bitter taste lingered on his tongue, metallic and wrong. A dream¡ªno, a nightmare¡ªbut the details slipped through his fingers like grains of sand. The only thing left was dread, heavy and unrelenting, coiled tight in his gut. He stood stiffly, shoulders tense. The familiar weight of his black coat grounded him, but his pulse still thrummed with unease. This wasn''t normal. As if anything in this world is normal. But no, this was a different kind of unease. He wasn''t the type to lose himself in dreams. That hollow coldness he wore like armor didn''t bend for things as trivial as bad sleep. His mind was supposed to be a fortress, but now it felt cracked, as if hit by a titanic siege ram. And something was leaking through. His mind, perhaps? Or something even worse. The wind carried a faint chill, rustling the dry leaves scattered across the path. People passed by without sparing him a glance¡ªjoggers in bright gear, a mother pushing a stroller, a couple murmuring in hushed tones. Everyone was happy, everyone was smiling. Normal. Everything was normal. Then why did it feel like the world was holding its breath?Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. Ryu''s lips pressed into a thin line as he walked toward the street, boots scuffing against the pavement. He kept his expression neutral, masking the growing sense of unease crawling under his skin. His breath was steady, but his instincts weren''t fooled. Ryu wasn''t the type to follow instinct, he knew that humanity''s greatest weapon was intelligence, and the ability to ignore instinct. But he also knew humans cannot survive without instinct. And his instinct was telling him something was wrong. Very wrong. A flicker caught his eye¡ªso faint he almost missed it. Just a brief shimmer along the horizon, like light reflecting off fractured glass. He stopped mid-step, scanning the skyline. Nothing. The lights of the city twinkled as they always did, indifferent to his scrutiny. His fingers tightened in his coat pocket. "You''re seeing things," he muttered under his breath. The words felt hollow. He did not believe that one bit, yet he had to. That was how the human mind functioned, after all. A natural reaction. The air smelled different now¡ªsharp and metallic, like ozone before a storm. He glanced up. The streetlights overhead buzzed faintly, their glow flickering unevenly. No one else seemed to notice. People kept moving, immersed in their conversations and routines. It wasn''t just the flicker. It was the weight pressing against his ribs, the nagging certainty that something had shifted. And it had its eyes on him. The eyes of a predator, no less. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to keep walking. Step. Breathe. Ignore it. But the flicker came again, closer this time. A distortion rippling through the air, warping everything for a split second. His breath caught in his throat. His body tensed on instinct, the kind of taut readiness born from years of discipline. Everything in him screamed to move. Fight or flee. But he did neither. He stood there, pulse thrumming, waiting for the world to right itself. The distortion faded, leaving behind an eerie silence. He exhaled sharply, the sound ragged. "This isn''t like me," he said quietly, voice barely audible. The words tasted bitter. It wasn''t just the flicker or the strange air¡ªit was the way his own body betrayed him. He was calm under pressure, always calculating, always controlled. But right now, cracks were forming, and he felt them splintering deeper with each passing second. He needed to leave. Get back to routine. Shake this feeling off before it took root. Ryu took a step forward¡ª And the world flickered violently, like shattered glass refracting light. He flinched, instincts roaring louder now. His gaze darted around, heart racing as reality warped and bent. The shadows stretched unnaturally long, twisting like living things. The streetlights overhead dimmed until the world was wrapped in suffocating darkness. It lasted only seconds, but it was enough. The world broke. And so did he. His breath came shallow when the city returned to normal. The streetlights hummed back to life. Cars rolled by on the distant avenue. Conversations resumed as though nothing had happened. But it had. He could still feel the faint echo of that flicker lingering in his bones, unsettling and undeniable. This wasn''t a trick of light. And it sure as hell wasn''t his imagination. Ryu''s hand trembled at his side, and he clenched it into a fist, forcing himself to steady. He wouldn''t let this crack him. Not now. Not ever. But even as he tried to shove it down, one thought pressed itself into his mind like a brand: The nightmare hadn''t ended when he opened his eyes. Fractures in the Calm The streets pulsed with the familiar rhythm of the evening city: cars rolling by in steady streams, laughter floating from caf¨¦ patios, and the occasional bark of a distant dog. Yet for Ryu, everything felt muted, as though the air itself had thickened. He walked with his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets, boots striking against the cracked pavement. Each breath tasted bitter. The gnawing sense of wrongness clung to him, heavy and persistent. Of course he knew what was wrong. Well, he knew only what he saw, at least. His mind reeled with fragmented impressions. Something had flickered¡ªtwisted reality into a warped reflection. And worse, the city hadn''t noticed. No one had. It was just him. The flicker wasn''t an illusion, he knew that much. His instincts were too sharp to mistake something so visceral for a mere trick of light. But there was something else. The nightmare. He exhaled sharply through his nose, brow furrowing. He couldn''t remember it, but it had left him raw, frayed at the edges. The weight of it still pressed against his ribs like a bruise that refused to fade.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. ''What the hell was that thing in the nightmare?'' His lips thinned. The thought shouldn''t have surfaced, but it clawed its way back into his consciousness, relentless and jagged. ''No¡ªwas it even a nightmare?'' Ryu''s fingers curled into fists inside his coat. His steps slowed. The flicker, the twisted shadows, the heaviness gnawing at his chest¡ªit didn''t feel like a coincidence. ''Shit, what do I do? Can I even do anything?'' His breathing quickened, the cold air burning in his lungs. Panic hovered just at the edge of his thoughts, waiting to pounce. ''Think calmly. Come on. Calm down, idiot.'' He stopped walking and stood at the edge of a dimly lit intersection, shoulders rigid. A car rumbled by, headlights momentarily washing over his tense frame. His knuckles ached from clenching his fists too hard. Slowly, deliberately, he released the tension. Calm. Control. Those were the rules he lived by. But it was slipping. This wasn''t like him. He was, without a doubt, in a state of chaos. His gaze flickered to the skyline, eyes narrowing. The stars were hidden behind a veil of dark clouds. A faint buzzing sound hummed in the air, almost imperceptible but constant. It grated against his senses. His instincts whispered that something had changed, but without proof, it was just paranoia. And paranoia was dangerous¡ªit made you reckless. Ryu exhaled through his nose and forced himself to keep moving. The weight in his chest didn''t vanish, but he buried it beneath the cold mask he''d worn for as long as he could remember. The flicker was gone, and the nightmare was just a scar on his thoughts. At least for now. The Shape of Fear Ryu kept moving, cutting through the thinning crowd as night blanketed the city. The flickering distortion and the weight of that nightmare gnawed at him, but he locked it down beneath an icy exterior. He''d done it before¡ªcompartmentalize, endure, move forward. Tonight, though, the cracks were harder to hide. Not that he needed to hide them. No one was around him right now. The bitter wind stung his face, and he barely registered the sensation. His thoughts were a maze of half-formed questions and instincts screaming at him to pay attention. He passed a narrow alleyway where a streetlamp flickered weakly overhead. A sharp metallic scent clung to the air¡ªfaint but distinct. Blood. Ryu stopped. His senses sharpened, eyes narrowing as he scanned the alley. A figure stood near the far wall, slouched and motionless. They were partially obscured by shadows, but there was no mistaking the dark smear trailing down the bricks. A knot formed in his chest. Most people would have walked away without a second glance. Smart people. But Ryu wasn''t wired that way. His instincts had been honed by years of reading danger where others saw nothing. And right now, every fiber of his being screamed that something was wrong. He has been feel something was wrong ever since that¡ªthing happened. ''Was it really even a nightmare? Could there be something in the ally connected to it?'' He stepped into the alley, boots scuffing against the cracked pavement. The smell of blood thickened, sharp and metallic. "Hello?" he called out, voice steady despite the tension coiling in his gut. No response. Ryu approached cautiously, his muscles taut. The figure''s head lolled to one side, dark hair obscuring their face. He clenched his jaw. If they were dead¡ªThis story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. A figure lay on the ground, like a marionette whose strings have been cut. The figure moved. But then, it seemed as if new strings have been attached. A sudden jerk, unnatural and wrong, like it had been yanked by invisible strings. Ryu froze, instincts roaring to life. His breath caught in his throat as the figure straightened slowly, limbs twitching. A low, guttural sound escaped their lips¡ªnot a moan of pain, but something guttural and primal. "What the fu¡ª" The figure''s head snapped up, revealing eyes that glowed faintly in the dim light. Their face was slack, twisted into an expression that didn''t belong on a living person. Cold dread gripped Ryu''s spine. This wasn''t normal. Nothing was normal today. The figure lunged. Ryu''s body moved before his mind caught up. He sidestepped, footwork clean and precise, as the figure''s outstretched hand raked through empty air. The stench of decay clung to them now, overpowering the metallic tang of blood. His pulse thundered in his ears. The thing¡ªbecause it wasn''t human anymore¡ªwhirled around with a speed that defied its jerky movements. Its mouth twisted into a grotesque snarl. Ryu''s mind worked fast. No weapons, no backup. Just instinct and muscle memory. He ducked low as the thing lunged again, its nails scraping against the wall behind him. The impact sent a shower of dust cascading down. Ryu''s breath was steady, but his heart hammered against his ribs. Calm. Stay calm. ''What the fuck! I cannot stay calm, not right now!'' The thing staggered, momentarily off-balance. Ryu seized the opening, slamming his shoulder into its chest. The force sent it sprawling backward, but it hit the ground with disturbing ease and bounced back up as though its bones were made of rubber. "What the hell..." he muttered, eyes narrowing. The thing charged again, and this time Ryu didn''t retreat. He braced himself, twisting at the last second to avoid its wild swing. His elbow drove into its side, followed by a sharp knee to its abdomen. It should have gone down. But it didn''t. The thing let out a guttural screech, louder this time, and its body convulsed. The glow in its eyes intensified, casting eerie shadows across the alley. Ryu gritted his teeth. His muscles burned, and sweat slicked his palms despite the cold air. This thing wasn''t just fast¡ªit was relentless. He needed to finish this. Now. The thing lunged for a third time, and Ryu met it head-on. He caught its wrist, twisting hard until he heard a sickening pop. The creature howled, its movements growing erratic. Using its momentum, Ryu drove it into the wall with a bone-jarring thud. The brickwork cracked under the force, and the creature slumped momentarily. Ryu didn''t give it a chance to recover. He grabbed its head and slammed it into the wall once, twice¡ª A sharp crack echoed through the alley, and the glow in its eyes flickered before fading completely. The thing collapsed, twitching violently before falling still. Ryu stood over it, breath heaving. His knuckles throbbed, and blood smeared across his coat sleeve. For a long moment, the only sound was his ragged breathing and the faint hum of the streetlamp overhead. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, heart still racing. This wasn''t normal. None of this was normal. He crouched beside the body, muscles tense in case it moved again. But the thing lay motionless, its features slack and lifeless. What the hell had just happened? Ryu''s chest tightened as fragmented thoughts clawed at his mind. The flicker, the nightmare, and now this. The threads were tangled, but one thing was clear: The cracks in reality were widening, and he was caught right in the middle of them. Fractured Reality Ryu wiped the blood from his knuckles, but it only smeared darker across his skin. His breath was steady now. Ryu was an experienced fighter, so he had long forgotten how adrenaline felt, but after meeting¡ªthe thing, adrenaline hummed in his veins, and it was still running rampant. ''Ah, how insidious.'' The alley was silent except for the faint hum of the streetlamp and the distant thrum of the city. He stared down at the corpse¡ªor whatever it was. Its body had already begun to change. The faint glow in its eyes was gone, and the strange tension in its limbs had faded, leaving behind a slack, pale husk. The scent of decay lingered, sharp and clinging. Ryu clenched his jaw. He wasn''t one to flinch at the sight of death, but this? This was wrong in every conceivable way. He crouched beside the body, keeping his movements deliberate. The creature''s skin was cold and waxy under his fingers. No pulse. No breath. Whatever life it had clung to was long gone. But it had moved. Fought. Screamed. He swallowed down the bitter taste rising in his throat. Maybe it was an actual puppet. "What the hell were you?" he muttered, voice low. There was no answer, of course. He didn''t really expect the corpse to talk, anyway. It was silent, with just the oppressive weight of the alley pressing down on him. ''Turns out I was wrong, this was not related to the damned nightmare at all!'' Ryu stood, wiping his hands against his coat with a grimace. He needed answers, and he wasn''t going to find them here. He retraced his steps back to the main street, muscles taut as he scanned the shadows. His instincts were on high alert, senses sharpened by the encounter. The city was as it had always been¡ªbright storefronts, murmured conversations, the occasional rumble of traffic. But it felt wrong.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. Ryu couldn''t shake the feeling that something had shifted. The air was too thick, too heavy. The streetlights flickered faintly, their glow uneven. People moved past him, oblivious. He caught fragments of conversation¡ªtrivial and mundane. "...did you see that sale at¡ª" "...he hasn''t called me back..." "...game''s on tonight..." Their words grated against his ears. ''Fucking idiots!'' How could they go about their lives when reality itself had fractured? Didn''t they feel it, see it? He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms. No. Of course, they didn''t. Only he did. ''Why is it only me? Am I crazy? But what explains the damned corpse?'' As he walked, his thoughts circled back to the nightmare¡ªthe one he couldn''t remember. It gnawed at him, relentless and sharp. What the hell was that thing in the nightmare? No¡ªwas it even a nightmare? Shit, what do I do? Can I even do anything? Think calmly. Come on. Calm down, idiot. His pulse quickened, and for a moment, he struggled to breathe. The weight on his chest pressed harder, a vice tightening around his ribs. He stopped in his tracks, leaning against a lamppost. The cold metal bit into his skin through his coat. His vision blurred. People walked past without sparing him a glance. He forced himself to focus, to ground himself. Breathe in. Breathe out. The rhythm steadied him, anchoring him back to the present. Ryu straightened, shaking off the lingering panic. This wasn''t going to break him. He wouldn''t let it. A sudden flash lit up the sky, bright and blinding. Ryu''s head snapped up, eyes narrowing. The light flickered erratically, zigzagging across the horizon like fractured lightning. People gasped and pointed, their conversations shifting to uneasy murmurs. "What the hell?" someone muttered nearby. Ryu''s breath quickened. The flicker was back¡ªbut it was worse now, stronger, more erratic. His instincts roared to life, the same primal warning he''d felt in the alley. Something was coming. The crowd''s unease rippled outward, but no one moved. They stood frozen, mesmerized by the chaotic light show above. Ryu''s jaw clenched. "Move," he muttered under his breath. No one listened. The flicker intensified, casting jagged shadows across the street. The air crackled with an electric charge, raising the hair on Ryu''s arms. Then it happened. A deafening crack split the air, and reality fractured. This time, the world collapsed, for good. The street warped, twisting like a nightmare come to life. Pavement buckled and tore, buildings flickered in and out of existence, and the sky bled colors that didn''t belong. Screams erupted as the crowd scattered, panic ripping through them like wildfire. Ryu''s muscles coiled as he scanned the chaos. His mind worked fast¡ªidentify threats, find cover, assess escape routes. But there was no logic to this. No pattern he could predict. There was nothing he could do. He could only die. The flicker was everywhere now, tearing through the city like a living thing. A woman stumbled in front of him, her face pale with terror. "What''s happening?" she screamed. Ryu didn''t answer. There was no point. She too, would die. The air trembled, and a fissure opened in the ground with a guttural roar. Asphalt crumbled, swallowing a section of the street whole. Ryu''s pulse thundered in his ears. His instincts screamed at him to run, but his feet remained planted. No, he couldn''t die. Not yet. Because he wasn''t going to be a spectator in this chaos. Not anymore. Only Human Of course, now that he had decided he was going to do something, he had to act. But what the hell was he going to do?! The world was collapsing in front of his eyes. The ground split like shattered glass, jagged fragments rising into the air as though gravity itself had lost its grip. Buildings flickered in and out of existence, their foundations trembling under the weight of something that shouldn''t be. The sky churned with unnatural light, hues bleeding and twisting into colors that didn''t belong. How the hell was he supposed to stop this? After all, he was only human. Ryu''s breath came hard and fast as he scanned the chaos. People were screaming, scrambling for cover, their terror a raw and tangible force. A man tripped over a chunk of broken asphalt and went sprawling. Others shoved past him in blind panic. Instinct screamed at Ryu to run too¡ªto find a way out before the whole street crumbled beneath his feet. But something deeper, colder, kept him rooted in place. This wasn''t just an accident or a freak natural disaster. This was a fracture in reality itself. And somehow, it was tied to him. He clenched his fists, forcing his breathing to steady. If he panicked, he was dead. That much was certain. The asphalt underfoot trembled violently, cracks spiderwebbing outward with a deafening roar. A section of the road caved in, swallowing cars and streetlights into the abyss below. Ryu''s instincts roared to life. He darted to the side, narrowly avoiding a chunk of debris that smashed into the pavement where he''d just stood. The impact sent shards of asphalt flying past his face. His heart thundered in his chest. Adrenaline surged through his veins, sharpening his senses.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Stay sharp. Stay alive. A woman''s scream cut through the chaos. Ryu''s head snapped toward the sound. She was pinned beneath a collapsed streetlight, blood seeping from a gash on her forehead. Her face was pale with terror as the ground beneath her cracked and groaned, threatening to give way. Every instinct told him to leave it. He was no hero. Survival came first. Always. But his legs were already moving. He sprinted toward her, dodging falling debris and fissures that threatened to swallow him whole. The air crackled with a strange energy, making his skin crawl. "Hold on!" he shouted, though the words felt absurd against the backdrop of chaos. The woman''s eyes were wide with panic. She clawed at the ground, trying to free herself, but the weight of the streetlight pinned her down. Ryu skidded to a stop beside her, muscles taut. The metal was warped and heavy, but there was no time to think. He planted his feet and wrapped his hands around the edge of the streetlight. His arms burned as he heaved upward, veins bulging with the effort. The ground trembled beneath them, cracks widening with a sickening groan. "Move!" he snarled through gritted teeth. The woman scrambled out from under the streetlight, gasping for breath. Ryu released his grip, the metal slamming back down with a jarring thud. She clung to him, trembling. "W-what''s happening?" Ryu didn''t have an answer. His own thoughts were a chaotic blur. Another deafening crack split the air, and the fissure beneath them widened. Ryu''s eyes locked onto the edge of solid ground just a few feet away. "Just go, woman!" he ordered, pushing her toward safety. The woman hesitated, fear paralyzing her. Ryu grabbed her arm, yanking her forward. "Go!" They sprinted across the crumbling street, dodging collapsing debris. The ground lurched beneath their feet, but somehow they made it to solid ground. The woman collapsed, sobbing. Ryu''s chest heaved as he scanned the street. The chaos showed no sign of stopping. If anything, it was getting worse. Jagged tendrils of light snaked through the air, warping everything they touched. Buildings shimmered, their forms twisting and flickering like mirages. Ryu''s pulse pounded in his ears. This wasn''t just a disaster¡ªit was a complete unraveling of reality. And it wasn''t going to stop on its own. Well, no shit. He clenched his fists, muscles taut with a volatile mix of fear and determination. If he was going to survive this¡ªif anyone was¡ªhe had to find the source. The flicker. It had started with that faint distortion, subtle and almost imperceptible. But now it had grown into a full-blown rupture, tearing the fabric of existence apart. Ryu''s breath steadied as resolve hardened in his chest. He didn''t know what the flicker was or how to stop it. But he was damn sure going to try. Ragged Worlds The night sky rippled like a shattered mirror. Jagged streaks of light twisted through the air, warping everything they touched. Buildings flickered between ruin and stability, their foundations trembling under the weight of reality unraveling. Ryu stood in the heart of the chaos, his breath steady despite the storm roaring around him. The raw instinct to survive gnawed at the edges of his thoughts, but he pushed it down, sharpening his focus. He clenched his fists as fragments of memory gnawed at his mind¡ªthe flicker, the nightmare, and that cryptic, suffocating feeling that he''d been here before. He couldn''t remember it clearly, but his gut told him one thing: this wasn''t random. They clearly had a connection. And if it wasn''t random, there had to be a way to stop it. Maybe. His gaze locked onto the epicenter of the chaos¡ªa swirling distortion of light hovering above the street. Tendrils of energy arced from it, tearing through the air with crackling fury. ''Fuck. You''re going straight into that thing?'' The rational part of his mind scoffed at the idea, but he shoved it aside. His options were limited, and standing here doing nothing wasn''t one of them. It meant instant death. Well, maybe going into the flicker was death, too. But he couldn''t care less right now. The flicker pulsed, a low hum vibrating through his bones. Each wave sent tremors through the ground, widening the cracks beneath his feet. Ryu exhaled sharply, muscles coiling. Then he ran. The wind howled against him, tugging at his coat as he sprinted toward the flicker. The ground buckled and heaved, forcing him to adjust his footing with each step. Debris rained down from fractured buildings, but he didn''t slow. Not that he could. Space was quite literally pulling him towards it. A jagged fissure opened directly in his path. Without hesitating, Ryu leaped over it, his boots skidding on loose gravel as he landed. His breath came in sharp bursts, but he kept moving. Closer. The flicker loomed ahead, its energy thrumming with chaotic intensity. The air around it shimmered, distorting the streetlights and shattered pavement into warped reflections. His instincts screamed at him to stop. Every survival instinct he had¡ªhoned through years of discipline¡ªwarned that stepping into that thing was suicide. But the flicker wasn''t just destruction. It was a door. He didn''t know how he knew that. He just did. It would be funny if it was a one-way gate, though. Ryu gritted his teeth and pushed forward. The distortion crackled violently as he closed the final distance. The light seared his vision, and the air grew thick, pressing against his skin like a living thing. He didn''t flinch. With a final step, he plunged into the flicker. The world shattered. Light exploded around him, blinding and chaotic. For a moment, Ryu couldn''t tell up from down. His body twisted in the void, weightless and disoriented. A cacophony of sounds assaulted his senses¡ªwhispers, screams, and a low, relentless hum that gnawed at the edges of his thoughts.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. His breath caught in his throat as fragments of memory flashed before his eyes. A hand reaching out. A voice calling his name. A flash of silver light. Pain lanced through his skull, sharp and blinding. He gasped, clutching his head as the flicker''s energy tore through him. The memories came faster now, tangled and fragmented. Visions of a world both familiar and alien. Faces blurred by time and distance. And always, the flicker. It was there in every memory, pulsing at the edges of his awareness like a living wound. Ryu''s teeth clenched as he fought to hold onto himself. The flicker was trying to unravel him, to strip him down to nothing. So, he had to remind himself that he existed. ''I think therefore I am!'' He gritted his teeth at how stupid it sounded. But now was not the time. He forced his mind to focus, pulling himself back from the edge. The chaotic storm around him trembled, as though resisting his defiance. Through the swirling light, a figure appeared. At first, it was just a shadow¡ªindistinct and flickering. But as it drew closer, the figure became clearer. Ryu''s breath caught. It was him. The figure stood tall, dressed in dark gray robes that shimmered with the same chaotic energy as the flicker. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes gleamed with a cold, knowing light. "You again," the figure said, voice low and smooth. Ryu''s heart thundered in his chest. "Who the hell are you?" The Other tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "The better question is, who are you?" The words hit harder than they should have. Ryu clenched his fists. "I don''t have time for riddles." The Other''s smile widened. "You always say that. Every time." His breath hitched. "What are you talking about?" "You''ll figure it out," the Other said, taking a step closer. "But here''s a hint: you''re not here to stop the flicker." Ryu''s jaw tightened. "Then what am I here for?" The Other''s gaze was steady, unyielding. "To end it." Before Ryu could respond, the flicker surged around him, and the world shattered into a blinding flash of light. Then everything went dark. And then there was light. And then the light dimmed. A sky was broken. The land was beholden. And then a shadow came. The shadow was formless, yet it had a form. It gazed at the sky and said: "The land is dark." And then the shadow gazed at the earth and said: "The sky has shattered." And then... it was gone. ¨D Ryu''s breath was ragged as he sat up, wincing at the sharp ache in his muscles. His coat was torn, the coarse fabric dusted with ash and fine cracks of blackened dirt. The world around him had twisted into a nightmare¡ªa patchwork of flickering shadows and jagged lights that defied logic. The sky above churned with fractured clouds, splintered by shards of swirling color that blinked in and out of existence. The air smelled sharp and metallic, humming with tension. It wasn''t the same world he had left behind. "You survived the jump," a familiar voice drawled. Ryu''s gaze flickered up sharply. The Other stood a few feet away, gray robes fluttering faintly despite the still air. He looked relaxed, arms folded across his chest, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and approval. "You," Ryu said flatly. The Other gave a mock bow. "Always a pleasure." Ryu pushed himself to his feet, muscles taut. His breath steadied, eyes cold and calculating as he took in the man before him. "You were in the flicker." "And now I''m here," the Other said lightly. "Funny how that works." Ryu narrowed his eyes. "Why are you following me?" The Other smiled faintly, as though the question amused him. "Who said I''m following you?" "You always show up right when things go to hell." "Maybe I just have impeccable timing." Ryu didn''t respond. His instincts whispered that there was more to this man than he was letting on. He wasn''t the type to trust anyone for no reason. It was creepy enough that it was literally him! "What is this place?" The Other glanced at the warped horizon. "A mess, mostly." "Don''t dodge the question." The Other sighed dramatically. "Fine. Let''s call it... an echo of possibilities. A crossroads between what is, what was, and what could be." Ryu''s jaw clenched. "You sound like a cheap fortune-teller. Did you forget I told you I don''t like riddles?" "And you sound like someone who doesn''t know where he is or how to get out." The words hit harder than they should have, but Ryu didn''t flinch. "Why are you here?" "To help you," the Other said smoothly. "That''s what friends do, right?" Ryu''s gaze was unflinching. "We''re not friends." "Yet." There was a pause, heavy with unspoken meaning. The Other''s smile faded slightly, replaced by something sharper, colder. "Let me ask you something," he said. "How many times do you think you''ve stood right here?" Ryu''s pulse quickened. "What do you mean?" The Other''s eyes gleamed. "Think about it. The flicker, the nightmare, this place... doesn''t any of it feel familiar?" Ryu''s stomach twisted, but he forced himself to stay calm. "I don''t live in d¨¦j¨¤ vu." The Other''s voice softened, almost sympathetic. "No. You live in repetition." Ryu''s breath caught. For a moment, he felt the weight of something heavy and suffocating pressing against his chest¡ªa sensation that gnawed at the edges of his thoughts. "What do you want?" The Other smiled faintly. "To set you free." Ryu''s eyes narrowed. "Free from what?" The Other shrugged. "That''s for you to figure out." ''This fucking scoundrel!'' He turned as if to leave, his robes flickering in the strange light. "Hey! Wait." The Other paused, glancing back over his shoulder. Ryu''s voice was steady. "Why help me?" The Other''s smile was razor-sharp. "Because every prison needs a key." And then he was gone. The Shattered Reflection "Sir! The hunters have arrived." Emergent Lang looked at the scout and nodded. He then turned around and shouted at the group. "Prepare for departure, we leave in five minutes." Emergent Lang''s voice echoed on the desolate shore. His cohort started to pack their things. Their shift for the day was done. The sun was setting, at last. They had been guarding this area of the Cursed Shores for around an hour now. Their goal was to clear out any abominations that came out of the Dead Sea. Of course the Hunters who were coming here were more than enough to deal with anything that can come to the shore. But that''s only because what came to the shore was the weakest. They were simply too weak to hunt for food in the Dead Sea. Especially at daylight. But Emergent Lang and his cohort''s purpose was to give them a clean and fast departure so they don''t waste energy before the hunt. They will surely need it all. After a few minutes of routine packing, the Hunters arrived. "How are you doing, Lang?" "I''m doing great. As greast as anyone can be on this shore, that is." "Haha! Your answer never changes, cheer up my friend." "Yeah, you always say that Orn." Orn frowned, but he didn''t show it. "Any problems?" "Nope. A few Void Beings came out but they obviously posed no threat." "Ah, I see. That''s good then." "It surely is. When will you depart?" "Eh, we have to do some extra preparations this time, so in around ten minutes or so." "Okay then. We will be going now, stay safe." After he said that, Emergent Lang then looked at his cohort that had just finished packing up and then gestured to them for departure. Orn looked at their backs, or to be more specific, he looked at Lang''s back. ''Ah, what a stubborn fellow.'' He then turned his gaze to one of the Awakened Hunters under him and said: "Transfer the boat, and order the others to raise the masts in five minutes while we prepare." "Yes sir! But shouldn''t we wait just a little more for the Sun to fully set?" "Yes, and no. Since this is your first day you may not know, but the reflections are merciful when the Sun is setting. It will be fine." "I will summon it right away, then." After that, the Awakend went to the shore and closed his eyes. Even after what he just heard, he could never open his eyes infront of a reflection. Yes, his eyes were protected by the Awakened film around his body, but one couldn''t be too sure.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Next, he focused on a port far away, and started paying attention to the tether on the boat. The Awakened stood at the edge of the shore, his breath slow and steady, his eyes closed to the pale, shifting reflections on the water. His ability hummed beneath his skin, a quiet and familiar force. The tether he sought was faint but firm¡ªa thread of connection between him and the distant ship. His fingers twitched as he reached for it, the sensation rippling through his nerves like plucking an invisible string. The ship was miles away, docked at a secured port where the land was still stable. But distance meant nothing to him. He pulled. A subtle shift in the air followed, a brief moment of stillness as the world itself acknowledged his intent. Then, with a sound like rushing wind, space twisted. The tether surged taut, and in an instant, the ship was no longer at the distant port. It was here. A massive wooden vessel¡ªits hull dark with age and brine¡ªappeared with a violent whoosh just off the shore. The water displaced by its arrival crashed against the land, sending white foam spraying over the rocks. The masts groaned under their own weight before settling into place, the sails flapping restlessly as they adjusted to the sudden change in location. The Awakened exhaled sharply, his knees nearly buckling from the sheer force of the transfer. He clenched his jaw and steadied himself, feeling the lingering echoes of energy rippling through his veins. Orn watched the process without a word, his expression unreadable. The ship had arrived intact¡ªno fractures, no anomalies. It was a good omen. He turned to the others. "Raise the masts. Prepare for departure." The Hunters moved in unison, their motions practiced and precise. Ropes were pulled, sails unfurled, and the ship groaned as it prepared to leave the cursed shore behind. Orn stepped onto the deck, the wooden planks creaking beneath his weight. He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of salt and damp wood. The evening air was cold, but not yet cruel. The Dead Sea stretched out before them, dark and endless. Despite its name, the Dead Sea was not lifeless. Not at night. By the time the ship had fully left the shore, the last light of the sun had faded beyond the horizon, and the water had begun to stir. The moon''s pale glow illuminated the surface, and with it, the sea awakened. Beneath the still waters, shadows moved. Sleek fish, strange crustaceans, and creatures with bioluminescent scales drifted just beneath the surface. The water reflected the night sky with a pristine clarity, making it seem as though they sailed upon the stars themselves. The Hunters moved about the deck, their eyes keen, their hands gripping their weapons with quiet readiness. They were not here for ordinary prey. The creatures of the night were valuable¡ªsome for their meat, others for their hides or venom. But the true danger, the true hunt, was reserved for what lurked beneath the surface in the daylight. For the Dead Sea was not the same when the sun rose. At dawn, the water would change. The dark, rippling waves would turn to liquid silver, reflecting the sky with unnatural clarity. In that light, the reflections became something else entirely. They became inhabited. No one knew what dwelled within those reflections. They did not move as creatures did, nor did they swim. They merely existed, locked within the perfect mirror of the sea. And so, as law dictated, no one looked at them. There were stories, of course. Of fools who had dared to meet the gaze of something in the water. Some had gone mad, others had disappeared entirely, leaving only their empty clothes behind. Some had spoken of voices calling from the silver depths, whispers that begged to be heard. The Hunters did not listen to such whispers. This was why they hunted at night. The ship moved steadily through the dark waters, its sails full of the quiet wind. The Hunters stood at the ready, watching the waves with practiced focus. Some leaned against the railing, spears in hand, eyes scanning for movement beneath the surface. Others sharpened their blades, murmuring quiet prayers to no gods in particular. Orn stood near the helm, his stance firm, his gaze locked on the horizon. The hunt had been fruitful¡ªa few large fish caught, their scales shimmering under the moonlight, their bodies stored carefully below deck. The night was calm, the Dead Sea silent except for the occasional splash beneath the waves. Hours passed. The air remained cool, the sky vast and undisturbed. Then something changed. Orn felt it before he saw it¡ªa subtle wrongness in the world, like a shift in the weight of the air. It was as if something had moved without moving, as if a ripple had spread through reality itself. He blinked. His fingers curled around the worn wood of the railing. The unease gnawed at him, deep and insistent. His eyes drifted downward. He hadn''t meant to look. He hadn''t wanted to look. But something had pulled at his mind, an intrusive presence curling around his thoughts like unseen fingers, dragging his attention toward the water below. The reflection of the moon stared back at him. Orn''s breath caught. A jagged line ran through its surface, a fracture spreading outward like the veins of a dying leaf. It trembled, splintering further, as if the sky itself had cracked in two. His stomach twisted. His pulse pounded against his ribs. He had seen it. His throat went dry, his body rigid. The air around him had gone still. The wind no longer stirred the sails. The usual creak of the ship''s wood had vanished. The sea itself seemed to be holding its breath. A chill spread down his spine, deeper than fear¡ªcolder than instinct. Orn clenched his jaw, forced his hands to remain steady. He tore his gaze away. Too late. Something had seen him too. The Light That Watches Reflections are an ordinary thing. A puddle of rainwater on the street can capture the sky. A polished blade can return your gaze. A still lake can hold an entire world within its depths, mirroring the one above. But reflections are not the same under all light. Under the sun, they are merciless¡ªperfect, unwavering. The light strikes the water and returns in an unbroken path, showing only what is expected. A reflection at midday does not shimmer or shift. It does not waver when the wind stirs the waves. It does not change when something beneath it moves. Because nothing beneath it moves. Not truly. The reflections of daylight are absolute. If one sees something within them that should not be there, it is not an illusion. It is not a trick of the mind. It is real. And it is looking back. That is why no one stares at reflections during the day. That is why no one studies the silver sheen of the Dead Sea when the sky is bright and cloudless. But moonlight is different. Under the moon, the world is softer. Shadows stretch long, and the light bends where it should not. The sea breathes beneath the night, its surface shifting in waves of silver and black. A reflection under the moon is never still¡ªit ripples and distorts, breaking apart and reforming. And perhaps, that is why the things beneath do not dwell in it. Perhaps they can only form where the light is absolute. Perhaps the waves keep them at bay. Or perhaps... the moonlight merely hides them. No one knows. The hunters do not question why the sea is safe at night. They do not ask what lurks in the daylight, nor do they seek to understand the things that should not be understood. They know only this: The day belongs to something else. And the night... is borrowed time. The ship drifted through the dark waters, its sails full of quiet wind. Beneath it, the Dead Sea rippled gently, the moon''s glow casting silver streaks across the waves. It was a beautiful sight, haunting in its vastness¡ªan endless, shifting mirror that reflected the night sky with unnatural clarity. Orn stood motionless at the helm, his knuckles white against the railing. The others had not noticed. The Hunters continued their work, adjusting the rigging, sharpening their harpoons, speaking in low murmurs as if the silence of the sea demanded reverence. But Orn knew something was wrong. He had seen the reflection of the moon shatter. And now, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much instinct told him to look away, he couldn''t stop himself from glancing at the water. The reflection had returned to normal. A perfect, unbroken moon stared back at him, gleaming softly upon the waves. But he had seen it. His stomach twisted. There were many things people speculated about the Dead Sea¡ªmany myths, many warnings. But of all the stories passed down by sailors, one rule stood above all: Never look too long. Never look too closely. Because what lay within the reflections... sometimes, it noticed. Orn clenched his jaw and forced himself to breathe. He had looked. He had seen. And though the water was still, he knew¡ªhe knew¡ªthat something had changed. But he wasn''t about to panic.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Panic got men killed. He turned sharply, pulling his gaze away from the water as he called out. "Status?" A Hunter near the mast perked up, raising a hand in acknowledgment. "Five hours till sunrise. No disturbances. A few catches, nothing big yet." Orn nodded. His voice came steady, sharp. "Maintain course. Keep your eyes on the horizon. Don''t get careless." The men responded in kind, adjusting their stances. They were experienced hunters, disciplined and wary. None of them would be foolish enough to drop their guard. Even so, Orn felt it. A presence. A weight against his back, a sensation just at the edge of his senses, pressing lightly against the space behind his neck. Watching. The wind shifted slightly, and for the first time that night, the ship creaked. The Dead Sea had no tide. The waves never rose higher than a man''s knee, no storms ever churned its depths. The air never carried the scent of salt, only something faintly metallic, something cold. And yet... something in the water stirred. Not with movement. Not with sound. But with awareness. Orn gritted his teeth. His body remained still, his fingers flexing slightly before relaxing. He wouldn''t let them see his unease. After all, he was of the highest rank among them. Sure, he wasn''t the only one that was Emergent amongst them, but he was the strongest Emergent, and why he was the leader. Strength came in many forms. And one of them was image. He could not show unease. The wind carried no scent. No salt. No brine. No rot. Nothing. It was the kind of silence that made the skin crawl. The kind that didn''t belong at sea. Orn''s fingers curled against the railing as he glanced at the horizon. The night stretched endlessly, the black waters blending into the sky so seamlessly that it felt like they were floating in an abyss. Only the moonlight kept them anchored, shimmering against the waves like silver thread. That was normal. That was how it had always been. And yet, he couldn''t shake the feeling that something had shifted. Not an obvious change¡ªno great wave, no sudden burst of sound¡ªbut something deeper. Something fundamental. His grip tightened. The ship groaned softly as it glided forward, its hull cutting through the Dead Sea with practiced ease. Behind him, the Hunters moved efficiently, setting lines and checking their weapons. Their voices were quiet but steady, exchanging brief words in between glances at the water. They weren''t nervous. They should have been. Orn exhaled through his nose, steadying himself. The reflection had shattered. He had seen it. And now, it was as if it had never happened. That was the problem. Reflections didn''t break. Not on their own. Not here. A rhythmic splash echoed off the side of the ship¡ªone of the younger Hunters pulling in a net. It came up heavy, writhing, the dark mass of a fish struggling against the woven fibers. The young man grunted as he hauled it over the railing, dropping it onto the deck with a dull, wet thud. "Good size," someone muttered. Another splash. Another catch. The tension eased. The Hunters returned to work. Orn''s eyes flickered to the net. The fish flopped weakly, its shimmering scales catching the moonlight in strange, iridescent hues. Then he saw it. Not on the fish¡ªin it. A crack. Thin, barely noticeable, running along its body like fractured glass. Not a wound, not a tear, but something else entirely. His stomach twisted. A shadow passed through the water. Not a shape. Not a figure. Just a darkness, sliding silently beneath the surface, unseen by the others. Orn let out a slow breath. His hands steadied. There was no point in speaking. Not yet. He had been hunting these waters for years. He knew the rules. The ship sailed forward, and the reflection of the moon shimmered peacefully, unbroken once more. But Orn knew better than to trust his own eyes. And he knew why. Because something else was looking through them. He knew the feeling. He sensed it. The same way a human brain senses a gaze even while it is asleep. A primal instinct buried deep in the mind, untouched by logic, untouched by reason. A warning older than fire, older than language. The knowledge that something was watching, unseen. It was not fear. It was awareness. Orn kept his breath steady. His hands remained loose at his sides, his expression unreadable. Years of discipline had trained him to control his body, to force his reactions into stillness. But inside, his instincts sharpened like a blade against stone. The ship continued its quiet glide through the water. The wind had not changed. The sea had not changed. The world remained as it was. And yet, something was there. Just beyond the surface. Just beneath his feet. The shadows beneath the water did not belong to the waves. They did not belong to the fish. They did not belong to anything that should have been there. Orn exhaled slowly, his fingers tracing the edge of the wooden railing. The Hunters had not noticed. Not yet. The younger ones, still green, still eager, still foolish, had begun to talk amongst themselves. Low murmurs, quiet chuckles, the scraping of blades being sharpened. They thought the night was calm. They thought the hunt was going well. They were wrong. Orn turned his gaze back to the sea, careful, deliberate. He did not look at it, not directly. He studied it from the corner of his vision, watching the way the waves moved, the way the reflections swayed. The reflection of the moon remained whole. It had not shattered again. But he knew better than to believe it was the same. Something had changed. The shadows beneath the water were deeper now. Darker. And worse¡ª They were following the ship. A perfect pace. A perfect rhythm. Moving without moving. Hiding where nothing should hide. Orn did not flinch. He did not tense. He only reached for his blade, fingers brushing against the worn leather of its grip. It was a subtle movement, a quiet precaution. But he had made a mistake. Because the moment his hand touched the hilt¡ª The shadows stopped. The water was still. Too still. And then, the ship creaked. Not from the wind. Not from the waves. But from something beneath them. Something that had pressed against the hull. Something that had felt him move. The Emergence Orn''s hand rested lightly on the worn grip of his weapon, fingers loose, unhurried. He didn''t draw it. Not yet. There was no point in brandishing steel against something that did not obey the rules of steel. Three other men on board felt it too. Emergents. Their presence was like distant bonfires in the cold¡ªa sensation that wasn''t physical, but could still be felt. Even when silent, even when unmoving, the weight of their existence pressed against the air. Their power had not yet fully shaped the world around them, but it was more than just a flicker in the dark. They had already crossed the threshold. They were acting, no longer just reacting. And yet, even with four Emergents aboard, the presence beneath them did not waver. That was the problem. Because when two wills clashed, it was never about strength alone. It was about who dictated reality first. Orn remained still, his expression unreadable. He didn''t need to speak to the other Emergents. They had all felt it¡ªthe way the ship had slowed, the way the weight of the air had changed, the way something was imposing itself upon the world. A low vibration passed through the hull. Not a voice. Not a sound. But a command. A single word formed in his mind, pressing against his thoughts like unseen fingers tracing across his skull. "Stay." It wasn''t spoken. It wasn''t whispered. It wasn''t even a voice. It was intent. A direct imposition of will. The ship ceased moving. Orders were made to be followed. The sails were full, the wind had not died, but they were still. Frozen.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. No one moved. One of the other Emergents inhaled slowly, then released a breath through his nose. His presence sharpened, the weight of his existence pressing outward. It wasn''t a direct act of defiance¡ªjust a test. A ripple in the stagnant waters of reality. Something beneath them pushed back. The ship groaned louder this time, wood bending¡ªnot cracking, not breaking, but yielding. Orn''s fingers flexed slightly. He had faced Void Beings before. They were creatures of hunger, pure instinct, mindless, formless. They acted without thought, without will. Even a strong Awakened could handle them with discipline and preparation. But this... This was an Emergent. Not a thing. Not a creature. A being. It had already begun shaping the world around itself. It had already taken the first step into mastery. It wasn''t attacking. It was waiting. For a challenge. A test. A warning. Orn exhaled. Because, it would not stop with a single word. It would not leave unless it was forced to. And force, in this case, was not measured in weapons or strength. It was measured in domain. ¨D Emergents emerged domains. Domains were emergents will upon the world. Emerging from within. "Who else?" Orn''s voice was quiet. One of the Emergents, a man named Ikar, turned his head slightly. "Not me." Another, a woman with a scar running across her cheek, shook her head. "I would have felt it earlier if it was." The last, a younger man barely into his twenties, said nothing. His jaw was tight. That was enough. It wasn''t one of them. Orn shifted his stance. "Three of us act. One anchors." Ikar''s brow furrowed slightly. "How deep?" Orn''s grip tightened slightly on his blade. "Full emergence. Do not hold back." "No one was planning to." No hesitation. The three Emergents moved¡ªnot physically, but internally. They reached outward¡ªnot with hands, but with their literal existence. The shift was immediate. The world around them did not change outright, but it responded. The will of the world was heavy after all. The weight pressing down on the ship met resistance¡ªnot in the form of an attack, but a refusal. A battle of wills, played out in silence. A Void Being would have scattered instantly. Even a lesser Awakened would have crumbled. But the thing beneath the water did not retreat. Obviously it wouldn''t. It already sensed their will when it followed them. And that was when Orn realized the problem. This wasn''t a conflict between a weak will and a stronger one. It was a conflict between two Emergents. And if that was the case... It meant that the thing beneath the water was learning. Adapting and shaping itself in real time. Orn exhaled slowly. "This isn''t working." The others felt it too. Their power was pushing outward, shaping the space around them, but the force beneath them wasn''t being repelled. It was shifting in response. Ikar''s voice was calm. "Then we go deeper." Orn nodded. "Prepare." The three of them braced. The young Emergent¡ªthe fourth one, the anchor¡ªstayed rooted. His role wasn''t to push. It was to hold them steady, to keep the ship from becoming collateral in the conflict of forces. Orn thought about using the new Awakened Hunter to transfer them and the ship back to the shore. But he knew an Awakened''s slumbering will cannot compete with the Emergent. And the ship would lose its tether and break. A sharp will assaulted their minds, as if the world it self was rejecting them. The real fight was about to begin. The fight was not with swords or spears. Or projectiles. It was simply who would rewrite the world''s will to their advantage the fastest. A true Emergent''s fight. The Hunt That Changed Everything They were three Emergents preparing to fight one Wretch. Under normal circumstances, they would have obliterated it. But, of course, nothing was ever that simple. This Wretch was a dweller of the Dead Sea. It was far from normal. There were many theories. Some believed the Wretches were vestiges left behind by the Absolute Beings¡ªthose that dwelled in the absolute light of day. Others believed they were entirely separate entities, beings that only emerged under the moonlight. What mattered was that they were stronger under the moon. And the only reason the Hunters knew this was because of a hunt years ago. That night, the Chief of Hunters, Olav, had led an expedition. A famine had struck, and too many Hunters had died, forcing them to train new Awakened at a rapid pace. They had two goals: - Gather food to sustain the settlement. - Capture a Depth Dweller alive for study. It was a calculated risk¡ªone that could save future generations of Hunters. And so, under Olav''s leadership, they set out early into the night. The hunt had gone well. They managed to capture two creatures from the depths. The first was a Whispered, a lesser Depth Dweller. It had been fleeing from something stronger and was already weakened when they found it. Capturing it was easy¡ªdecapitating it, even easier. The second was a Wretch. That was where the real struggle began. At the time, Olav was an Emergent, but his subordinates were not. Only the Vice-Chief had reached that stage. With nothing but Awakened Hunters and their abilities, they had to subdue something far beyond them. The battle was brutal. The Wretch did not fight like a beast. It fought like a thing that had seen a thousand deaths and learned from each one. It did not attack wildly¡ªit adapted. It turned their own tactics against them. By the time they brought it down, many had died. There was no time to mourn. The world did not stop. The captured abominations were brought to the Light Bringer Chamber¡ªa place designed to test the effect of Absolute Light. No natural light touched its walls. Only artificial illumination, created by Awakened abilities, could exist inside. The goal was simple: to test the limits of the Depth Dwellers'' strength. And what they discovered changed everything. The experiments yielded three results. The Whispered, despite being weaker, deteriorated at a slow but constant rate. It seemed to unravel the longer it was kept away from moonlight. The Wretch, on the other hand, did not weaken immediately. It resisted. It fought. Only after hours of containment did it finally show signs of weakening. When exposed to the Absolute Sunlight, both creatures reacted violently¡ªbut not in the same way. The Whispered dissolved instantly. The Wretch screamed. And that was the key difference. The Whispered belonged to the night. But the Wretch was something else entirely. It could survive in the moonlight. It could endure in the dark. And when the sun touched it¡ª It didn''t die. It resisted. It was not just a hunter of the night. It was something caught in between. Something that should not exist at all. And now, on this night, Orn and his Emergents were about to fight one. One that had already begun shaping the battlefield around them. ¨D The Wretch was not attacking. It was waiting. Orn knew the difference. He had faced beasts that lunged on instinct, Abyssal Beings that thrashed without strategy. They were dangerous, but simple. Predictable. This was not the same. This was a Wretch.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. The Wretch had already exerted its influence¡ªit had woven itself into the water, into the ship, into the very fabric of the battle before it had even begun. That was what made it deadly. And that was what made it a mistake. Because it was not the only one here that had the ability to shape reality. Orn turned his head slightly, eyes moving from one Emergent to the next. They did not need words. They had been through too many hunts for that. They knew their roles. Ikar, to his left, adjusted his grip on the railing, his breathing slow and measured. His power was in displacement¡ªnot the raw, distance-breaking transfer of a Hunter''s ability, but the ability to divide space into segments, separating and shifting parts of the world like a puzzle. Alya, the woman with the scar, exhaled through her nose, her expression unreadable. She was their anchor, the one who stabilized the ship''s presence so it would not be pulled under a domain other than their own. Tark, the youngest, shifted slightly at Orn''s right. His ability was reverberation¡ªnot simply amplifying force, but layering it, so that each strike did not merely hit once, but echoed through an object again and again, compounding into devastation. Each one of them had forged their place in reality. And so had the Wretch. This was not a battle of mere strength. It was a clash of existence itself¡ªof which side could dictate the rules of engagement. But it had made one mistake. It had assumed that it was the only one in control. ¨D Of course, he did not move with body. He moved with presence and will. Orn reached out¡ªnot with hands, not with weapons, but with something deeper. The moment his will surged, the Wretch responded. The ship lurched violently, its wooden frame groaning under an unseen force. The sails flapped wildly, not from the wind, but from something else¡ªsomething that had wrapped itself around them like invisible chains, dragging them down, slowing their movement even though the waters remained still. The Dead Sea twisted, the waves bending at unnatural angles. The ship did not simply drift anymore. It sank. Not physically¡ªno, that would have been too simple. It was being drawn into another state of being, pulled into the domain of something that had already claimed this space. A lesser crew would have panicked. A lesser group of Awakened would have screamed. But this was not a lesser crew. This was a ship carrying Hunters. And they had already survived what the Dead Sea had thrown at them for years. Alya acted first. Her power, her Emergence, was not in offense. It was stability. It was a refusal of change, a force that could make reality unchanging in her presence. That was why she was called an Anchor¡ªbecause when she willed it, things remained as they were meant to be. Many have been fooled by her ability, thinking it was a Utility emergence. Of course they were also dead. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and pressed down. The ship froze in place. The unnatural sinking halted. The bending water lost its strength. The force dragging them down broke like a taut rope snapping under too much pressure. Alya exhaled, her presence cementing reality in place. But the Wretch was not done. The ship steadied, but the water around them did not. The waves began to split¡ªas if something beneath the surface had parted the sea itself. Blackened water peeled away, revealing an abyss beneath them, deep and yawning, lined with jagged, twisting shapes that looked like they had no place in reality. A low sound¡ªnot a voice, not a growl, but something in between¡ªhummed from the depths. Ikar was already moving. He moved with separation and division. The Wretch was trying to expand its claim again. Trying to turn the very sea into its weapon. So Ikar did what he did best. He cut. His power was space itself, the ability to define where something should be and where it should not. He reached out, and with a sharp flick of his fingers¡ª The battlefield broke apart. The abyssal opening fractured into disconnected sections, like pieces of a shattered mirror. The Wretch''s claim over the water became disjointed, cut into unnatural angles where its influence could not reach. It''s hold had weakened. That was when Tark acted. He moved with momentum and force. Tark''s power was reverberation¡ªa manipulation of impact, of the way force echoed through reality. When he struck, it was never just one strike. It was many. A single impact would carry through, repeating itself over and over, multiplying in strength until whatever was in its path simply ceased to exist. Tark stepped forward, slamming his boot against the deck. The motion was small¡ªbarely even a stomp. But the sound rippled. It traveled through the ship, through the water, through the very space that the Wretch had begun to weave into its domain. And then it hit. The force repeated, layering on top of itself again and again, turning a single impact into an inescapable cascade of destruction. The abyss below them shattered. From the outside it looked like it was a infinite wave. The split sea collapsed back into itself, crushing anything that had existed within its false depths. The Wretch''s domain recoiled, forced to retreat, its claim unraveling before it could fully solidify. And then, at last¡ª Orn moved. ¨D The Wretch had formed now. It had no choice but to take a shape. A beast that should not exist, pulling itself from the reflection of the shattered moon above. Its body was half-formed, a shifting, twisting mass of limbs that did not belong to a single creature. Of course it wasn''t just one. It was many. And even under the immense will of the Emergents, it did not attack wildly of course. It learned. It had seen their response. It had already begun adapting to them, its form shifting to resist the very forces they had used against it. It was swift, as if not giving them a chance. Orn did not give it the chance, either. His blade was already drawn. And of course, he did not move with body. He moved with erasure. His power did not shift space. It did not stabilize. It did not amplify force. It removed. A single cut¡ªclean, precise, and absolute¡ªand everything that existed in its path simply ceased to be. Orn swung his blade. Of course Orn had waited till it''s will was weakend by his teammates. Otherwise, his blade''s will would have not done much damage to reality, or the Wretch for that matter. But now it was weakend, it had assumed its form. And his blade had assumed it''s will. It passed through the Wretch''s twisting body¡ª And for a moment, nothing happened. Then¡ª The Wretch failed to exist. Not torn. Not cut. Just... gone. The air trembled. The sea stilled. The unnatural presence that had lurked just beneath the surface vanished, its claim severed entirely from reality. And just like that, the hunt was over. ¨D Of course, it wasn''t actually over. They still hadn''t met their quota for the day. But it was too risky to continue for now. And on the ship, the silence stretched. The younger Hunters had stopped breathing. They had never seen a battle like this before. It was not a struggle of brute force, nor was it a test of speed or endurance. But a battle fought through will itself. A battle where the world had been shaped, pulled apart, and rewritten in a matter of seconds. One of the Hunters, his face pale, whispered, "That was... easier than I thought." Orn turned his head slightly. His voice was quiet. "It wasn''t." The Wretch had not fought back. Not because it was weak. But because it had been watching. An hour later, the deck was silent. A droplet of water fell onto the deck. However, it did not fall from the rain. Or even come from the sea. It came from above. The ripples in the reflection were already spreading. And this time¡ª The moon was not the only thing looking back. A Path Not Chosen Ryu awoke to pressure. It was not something he could see or touch, but he felt it nonetheless, weighing down on him in a way that wasn''t physical. His breath was steady, his mind sharp, but something was wrong. The world around him refused to settle, shifting in ways that defied logic. Above him stretched a sky that wasn''t a sky at all. It had no sun, no clouds, no single color. One moment it was deep blue, the next a shade like old parchment, and then black as a starless void. It didn''t fade between these states¡ªit jumped, like a book being flipped through too quickly. The ground beneath him was solid, yet lacked texture, as though it existed only because he expected it to. His instincts whispered that he wasn''t supposed to be here. Yet here he was. Then came the footsteps¡ªsoft, deliberate. Ryu turned. A man stood a few feet away, dressed in gray robes that seemed untouched by the shifting hues of their surroundings. He did not look out of place. He did not look confused. He simply belonged, as if this space had been waiting for him all along. His posture was relaxed, hands clasped behind his back, an expression of mild amusement on his face. Familiar. Too familiar. Ryu''s muscles tensed. His voice, when he spoke, was even. "You again." The Other smiled. "Me again." Ryu didn''t react, keeping his breath slow. The conversation had already begun. He was just catching up. "Where am I?" The Other''s expression didn''t change. "Where do you think you are?" Ryu''s gaze flickered across the landscape. It was pointless to guess. This place followed rules, but they weren''t ones he understood yet. He wasn''t in the city anymore. He wasn''t even sure if he was in the same existence anymore. "You tell me," he said instead. The Other chuckled, shaking his head. "That would be too easy." Ryu could tell when someone was trying to lead a conversation. The Other wasn''t just being cryptic¡ªhe was controlling the flow of information. Every answer was meant to steer Ryu in a specific direction.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. That meant he wanted something. There was no reason for The Other to be so cryptic otherwise. Ryu exhaled, flexing his fingers subtly. His body moved fine. He felt real. That meant this place wasn''t a dream. It wasn''t an illusion, either. It followed the rules of reality just enough to be dangerous. His voice remained steady. "What do you want?" The Other tilted his head slightly. "Interesting choice of question. Most people would ask how to leave." "I assume that''s not an option." "Look how smart you are! But, yes, it isn''t. Not yet." ''Bastard.'' Ryu''s jaw tensed slightly. Every sentence was a move in a game he didn''t know the rules to. Then make your own rules. If the Other wanted to lead the conversation, then Ryu had to take control. "Then let''s cut to the point," he said. "Why am I here?" For a long moment, the Other studied him. Then, he answered. "Because this is where you need to be." ''Again with this bullshit!'' Ryu didn''t blink. "Says who?" The Other exhaled softly, as if amused. "Says the you that got you here." Something about those words twisted in Ryu''s mind. A sentence too simple to be meaningless, but too vague to understand. Of course he could still guess, for example The Other looked exactly like him. Is The Other.. him? Or something else? He clenched his jaw. "What does that mean?" "If you have to ask, you already know the answer." Ryu hated this. The way the Other spoke in half-truths, in words that meant something and nothing at the same time. But the worst part was¡ªit worked. Because instead of dismissing his words outright, Ryu was trying to figure them out. He had no other choice after all. The Other wasn''t giving him answers. He was forcing Ryu to think the way he wanted him to think. This was a masterclass in manipulation. Ryu exhaled, forcing himself to focus. If the Other wanted him off balance, then he had to take back control. He took a step forward. A small, deliberate movement. The Other''s expression didn''t change. He didn''t step back, didn''t acknowledge the shift. But Ryu watched closely. No reaction. That meant he wasn''t testing Ryu''s fear. "You said I need to be here," Ryu said. "For what?" The Other''s gaze sharpened. And for the first time, Ryu saw something behind the amusement. Something colder. "To decide," the Other said simply. Ryu frowned. "Decide what?" The Other took a slow breath, then spoke. "What comes next." The words settled heavily between them. Ryu felt it was a fact. The world around them shifted, as if reality itself had just adjusted to the weight of those words. Ryu''s pulse remained steady, but his mind raced. What came next? For him? For the world? Or was the real question¡ªfor who? He inhaled through his nose. "And if I refuse?" The Other''s smile didn''t fade. But this time, it reached his eyes. "Then something else decides for you." Ryu''s chest rose and fell slowly. No threats. No ultimatums. Because the Other didn''t need them. Surely such a powerful being wouldn''t resort to such underhanded methods. He was only telling Ryu what would happen. What had always happened. And for some reason, that was more terrifying than any warning could have been. A low hum filled the air. The world shifted again, the colors deepening, reality twisting ever so slightly. The Other''s voice was soft but absolute. "Now... let''s begin." Again.