"I need your help," Rymir said, his voice like a wind rustling through ancient ruins. "To find peace. And to free my brother."
I stood there, frozen in the bathroom. The reflection still wasn't mine. It was him — Rymir. A man long dead, staring at me with eyes filled with grief and hope.
"Your brother?" I asked, my voice trembling. "The one who… killed you?"
Rymir nodded solemnly. "Toru. He wasn't always like that. But hatred... it twists people. He sold his soul to a demon for power. Now, he's no longer human."
He looked down, as if seeing the ruins of his home all over again.
"If you can defeat him... maybe he can be saved. Maybe I can finally rest."
I didn't know what to say. A week ago, I was just some Civilian kid. Now? I had soul fragments living inside me, a warrior asking me to fight a demon-possessed brother, and a weird dream that felt more real than my own memories.
Rymir vanished from the mirror. I stood there for a while, letting the silence fill the room. I knew I couldn't go back to sleep, not after all that. So I did what I usually did: I got ready for school.
Only this time, something felt different.
As I walked down the hallway of the Civilian Academy, everything felt... fake. The dull gray lockers. The hollow laughs. The whispers about the Gifted. Always the Gifted.
I wasn't one of them.
At least, that's what I thought.
I still remembered the day my parents left me. I was barely ten.
My mother, Affia, was the fourth strongest mage alive — she could tear apart the sky with storms, summon hurricanes with a flick of her hand.
My father, Rick, the third strongest Brawler — a man who could absorb any material and turn his fists into it. Stone, steel, even diamond.
They weren't just powerful — they were part of the Dragonkin Guild, the strongest in the world. Heroes who sealed demonic rifts, legends in their own right.
And then… they had me.
A Civilian.
No powers. No aura. Nothing.
They tried to hide me. Pretend I didn't exist. But in a world like this, everything gets found out. Eventually, they chose their pride over their child.
They left me behind.
Now I live alone in a cheap apartment and go to a school that trains us to serve the Gifted. Because that's what Civilians do — we clean, we cook, we obey.
After class, I work part-time in the Gifted section of the academy. Polishing armor. Cleaning spells from the walls. Fetching food. Smiling while they mock us.
That day, I could barely stay awake. I sat in class and blinked — and suddenly, I was back in the dream.
Same battlefield. Same scorched earth. Same pain.
Only this time… the sword came down faster.
I saw the world tilt. Then darkness.
And then... I woke up, gasping. My scream echoed through the classroom. Everyone stared. I tried to stand but collapsed. The teachers called the nurse, but I blacked out before they even touched me.
When I opened my eyes again… I was back.
But something had changed.
The battlefield was brighter. My body lighter. My hands gripped a sword I didn't recognize — yet felt like I'd wielded it all my life.
Rymir's memories… no, his instincts guided me.
Heaven and Earth Sword Style.
I fought Toru again. And this time… I won.
When I opened my eyes for real, the classroom was empty. Night had fallen.
My heart still raced, but my hands were steady.
A new weight rested in my soul.
I stood, walked to the bathroom, and stared into the mirror.
Rymir appeared again, but this time… he smiled.
"You did it," he said. "You brought peace to my soul. And now… my style is yours."
I looked at my reflection — at his sword, now embedded in my memory. A weapon that could cut through anything.
I wasn't just a Civilian anymore.
I was something else.