Chapter 2- Nightmares Are Constant (Part 2)
Her body hung limply, arms pinned at her sides like a broken doll. Her legs dangled, swaying gently, unanchored by anything solid. Blood dripped in steady rivulets from her wounds, staining the bed below in a grotesque pool of deep, arterial red.
The heavy scent of iron hit Zane's nose like a punch, sharp and unmistakable. It dragged him out of his daze, but his mind refused to process what he was seeing. It simply couldn't.
He took a hesitant step forward. Then another.
"M-Mom?" he whispered, voice fragile and trembling. "What's wrong… Mom?"
His arms stretched out toward her instinctively, his fingers twitching mid-air like they could pull this nightmare apart if only they could reach her. But what he felt inside—the deep, strangling dread—was unlike anything he'd known before. Something primal told him this wasn't just wrong. It was impossible.
His voice cracked in a nervous chuckle. "Mom… this isn't funny. Haha… You can't just hang up there like that."
He forced a shaky grin to his lips, but it withered the moment he got close enough to see her face.
Her head was slumped forward, chin buried against her chest. Her hair was matted, soaked in blood, and the moment he saw her eyes—
"Heh…"
The breath was locked in his lungs. His entire body stiffened, paralyzed by the sight of those lifeless orbs. Her eyes were empty. Hollow. Blood had clouded them, forming a macabre mask that wiped every hint of who she'd once been.
Zane stumbled back, his complexion drained to a ghostly white. The floor tilted beneath him as his mind refused to catch up with what he was seeing.
Thump.
His heart thundered in his chest, painful and loud, like it might tear itself free from his ribs. "Mo…m…" he choked out, his voice shrill and thin.
Still, no answer.
He backed away, his foot catching the edge of the carpet. He fell hard, his spine slamming into the floor as a cry escaped his lips. His body trembled violently, spasms overtaking him.
"Mom! Answer me! This isn't funny!" he screamed, the tears starting to well up at the corners of his eyes.
Then, as if some instinct broke through the veil of horror, he clenched his jaw and forced himself up.
'I can't lose it… not now… not if she needs me.'
Zane charged toward the bed, climbing over the blood-drenched sheets, ignoring the way the thick liquid soaked through his clothes. His hands reached out, grabbing her shoulders, shaking her with increasing desperation.
"Mom! Please, answer me! Wake up!" His voice cracked, breaking under the weight of pure panic.
She didn't respond. Her body swung gently with each shake, lifeless and cold.
"Mom… hick… what happened to you?!"
Tears spilled freely down his cheeks, his sobs wracking his small frame. He clung to her shoulders, forehead pressed into her bloodstained chest, trying to find some warmth. Some sign of life. But there was nothing. Only silence. Cold, suffocating silence.
Then—
"Ah ah, poor kid. What a heartfelt scene. Almost makes me want to tear up."
Zane froze.
A voice—smooth, mocking—cut through the room like a blade.
He jerked around, eyes wide. At the door stood a man, his frame draped in shadow. Darkness clung to him unnaturally, so dense it swallowed his features whole—except for one thing.
Those eyes.
Glowing sky blue, unnaturally bright against the void, and filled with something far worse than cruelty.
Amusement.
A chill crawled down Zane's spine. The air thickened, pressure pressing against his shoulders like invisible hands.
"W-Who are you?!" Zane shouted, his voice cracking under fear. "What did you do to my mom?!"
The man tilted his head, his body still leaning casually against the doorframe. "Isn't it obvious, kid?" he said. Then he raised his hand, mimed slashing his own throat, and smiled. "I killed her."
The words dropped like stones into Zane's chest.
"No…" His voice was barely audible, a fragile whisper of disbelief. "No. That's not true. What do you mean?!"
"She fought back, you know. Real feisty," the man said, waving a hand dismissively. "Had to put some effort into it, you know? You monsters are really something else, always giving me a hard time. Nasty bitch, she kept calling for your name, I had to break her throat so she doesn't make too much noise."
"... Huh...?" Zane was completely speechless, unable to formulate a single thought in his head. He was completely blank.
"Anyway, enough talking, I need to go back quickly."
The man pushed off the wall, stepping into the room.
Zane backed up instinctively, pushing himself against the blood-slick wall. "No… stay back! Please!"
"Sorry, can't do that," the man replied, strolling forward with casual malice. "Your kind needs to be wiped out. Don't take it personally. Just business. I don't enjoy murdering families, you know?"
He paused for a moment, then chuckled. "Who am I kidding? I haven't felt this thrilled in years~"
His grin widened—twisted, malicious, unhinged.
Zane trembled as the man towered over him. That face… that smile… it was the embodiment of every nightmare. Every single moment of fear he might've experienced in the past or he would experience in the future could never compare to that single second and that wicked smile.
It was his horror.
"Be sure to greet your mom from the depths of hell, little demon."
Then the dagger flashed downward—bright, fast, unstoppable.
And everything turned to white.
***
RING RING
"AGH!!"
Zane jolted upright in bed, his scream echoing through the cramped room. Sweat clung to his skin, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. His eyes darted around wildly until the reality around him finally settled in.
This wasn't his mother's room.
This was his room—small, damp, worn down by time and hardship.
He ran a shaky hand through his hair, trying to ground himself. The nightmare still clung to his senses, vivid and real even though it was over.
'Again…'
He let out a bitter exhale.
'Same dream. Every night. Like clockwork. Could really use a change of script.' He grumbled as he took a moment to calm down.
Ever since that night five years ago, the memory refused to fade. It returned with relentless precision, as if it was burned into his soul. Every single night and every single moment he would close his eyes to sleep, that nightmare would coil around his subconscious mind like a venomous snake, biting him at every opportunity.
His phone kept ringing beside him, the alarm echoing like a distant siren. He slapped it off and slowly slid out of bed, his limbs heavy. Moving to the window, he pulled the curtains open—only to be met by a blast of sunlight.
"Tch…" He flinched, quickly drawing the curtains shut again. The brightness felt wrong. Too bright.
The hallway outside his room creaked beneath his feet as he made his way to the bathroom. A cracked mirror greeted him, reflecting the same tired, lifeless eyes.
Silver hair stuck messily to his forehead, and his once-bright red eyes were now dulled, as if the light inside them had long since gone out. His gaze slid to the scar—a jagged line stretching from the base of his jaw down to his neck and vanishing under his shirt. A permanent reminder of the night everything changed.
He stared at his reflection.
The boy in the mirror didn't look human. He looked broken. Twisted. Wrong.
"I hate you," Zane muttered at the glass. "Especially those damn eyes…"
There were days he wanted to rip them out. Anything to stop seeing himself once and for all. But he couldn't. He needed them. He needed everything if he was going to achieve his goal.
He washed his face and returned to his room.
Stretching first, he dropped to the floor and began his routine—push-ups, sit-ups, lunges. Every morning, without fail.
Each movement was a defiance of weakness.
Becoming strong enough to apply for a Dimensional License wasn't just some vague dream—it was the goal. It was the only path left.
The test, though… it was brutal. Mentally, physically, and emotionally. He had heard many rumors about it and the abysmally low acceptance rate of the test. There were even some statistics that said only 1% of all candidates from all realms would be accepted every year. That number gets even lower in the Lower Realms compared to the Higher Ones.
Sadly for Zane, he was from Earth.
"Hngh… One of the weakest realms in existence…" he grunted through clenched teeth. "They obviously would want the best of the best from trash heaps like us."
Only 1% made it. Maybe less. And from Earth's realm? It was even worse.
But none of that mattered.
Zane wasn't going to be left behind.
He would become strong.
No matter what it took. Even if it meant he had to sacrifice everything.