The Iron Creed didn't believe in mercy.
Only efficiency.
Rei Saotome had followed that doctrine since childhood.
She never asked questions. She followed orders. She kept her boots clean and her heart colder than steel.
Today, the mission was simple: eliminate a rogue Dreambound insurgent hiding in the Kazakh Fringe.
Rei led the unit, her rifle steady, her breath even.
The desert wind whispered through broken fences and ghost towns.
"Unit Theta, moving in," she said through the comms.
They breached the safehouse in a flash—shouts, flashbangs, no hesitation.
Rei took point. She expected resistance.
But all she found was a child.
No older than ten, asleep on the floor, surrounded by glowing symbols on the walls.
His body pulsed faintly with blue light.
A Dreambound—mid-trial. Vulnerable.
"Orders?" asked her second.
"Terminate," came the voice over comms.
She hesitated.
For a second, the child opened one eye—and the world shattered.
Rei blinked. The walls of the safehouse dissolved.
She was standing in a moonlit battlefield, where no sky existed—only darkness painted with constellations that pulsed like living things.
The ground beneath her feet was cracked glass.
Trees grew sideways. Blades bloomed from their trunks like roses.
"What the—"
A voice rang out like bells struck in slow motion.
"Rei Saotome. Weapon of man. Seed of divinity."
A figure stepped forward—a woman with hair like flowing mercury and eyes like twin suns.
She wore a kimono of flame and carried a long glaive with a blade shaped like a crescent moon.
"I am Amaterasu-no-Mikoto," said the goddess.
"And you are dreaming."
Rei raised her weapon. "Dreams don't bleed."
Amaterasu smiled softly. "No. But dreamers do."
With a wave of her hand, ten silhouettes appeared in the field.
Each one was Rei—but twisted.
One snarled with blood-covered hands.
Another knelt, hands clasped, eyes hollow.
One had no face at all.
"Face the truths you buried, and I will grant you the weapon you were meant to wield."
The battle was brutal.
Each clone attacked with different tactics—guilt, rage, submission, self-loathing.
Rei fought with every ounce of discipline she had.
But they knew her thoughts. Her weaknesses.
Each strike felt like tearing a scar open.
She fell. Rose. Fell again.
But she didn't stop.
"I am not your weapon," she gasped, standing alone at last. "Not anymore."
The goddess stepped forward, gaze kind yet proud.
"Then rise, not as a tool, but as a sword of your own choosing."
Light gathered in her hand.
Her rifle melted away, becoming strands of glowing silk, twisting into metal.
A gauntlet formed on her arm—elegant, deadly, alive.
It pulsed with energy. Sharp blades folded from her wrist like petals of a crimson flower.
Amaterasu whispered, "The Iron Bloom. Yours alone to name."
Rei looked down at the gauntlet, and for the first time in years—she smiled.
Then came the scream.
Reality snapped back.
She was on the battlefield again—but it was burning. Her squad? Gone.
Ash rained from the sky. The child? Nowhere in sight.
"Command to Theta Lead, do you copy?"
She didn't answer.
Above her, a surveillance drone hovered silently.
A red light scanned her eyes.
"Dreambound signature detected. Rei Saotome confirmed. Reclassification: Asset or Terminate."
Rei clenched her gauntleted fist. The blade extended with a soft shrrrk.
They would hunt her now. Just like they hunted the child.
She began walking—toward the eastern wastes, where the Creed held no power.
From now on, she would follow her own orders.
The Dream had changed her.
No longer forged by the Creed.
She was blooming—and no one would cut her down again.