Adrian wanted to observe more about the bunker, but unknowingly he lied in his bed. The tension and fatigue made his body weak. So, he sleept in an instant while others are busy in there own chores.
The exhaustion was so absolute that when he finally collapsed onto the bed, he didn't just fall asleep—he vanished.
One moment, the ceiling of the unfamiliar dormitory was fading into darkness; the next, he was standing in the center of a nightmare.
The air here didn't smell like the stale dust of the bunker. It smelled of scorched iron and ancient rot. Adrian looked down and felt a jolt of horror that should have woken him, but the dream held him fast. He was standing on a sea of the dead. Thousands of lifeless bodies—human, beast, and things that defied naming—lay tangled together in a silent, gory tapestry. Skeletons poked through the mud like jagged teeth, and a dark, necrotic energy circled the sky like a gathering storm.
He tried to move, but his limbs felt like smoke. He was a ghost in this place, a silent observer of a war that had already ended—or was perhaps yet to begin.
He moved a bit and covered some distance to spectate more but only he could see was a horrific battlefield.
Where am I? Did I come back to that world? Or where?
Suddenly he felt a strong aura emanating from a distance.
Such power!such presence!
He rushed to the place, but his mind couldnot withstand it more so he stand far away.
In the distance, five figures stood amidst the carnage. They weren't gods, yet "human" was a word too small to describe them. They moved with a grace that made the air hum. One of them raised a hand, and a beam of pure, concentrated power erupted, erasing an entire section of the horizon as if it had never existed.
Then, Adrian looked up.
There, looming over the five beings, was something that shouldn't exist. It was a presence so immense, so utterly void of light, that Adrian's mind buckled. The moment his eyes met the shape of that greater being, a searing, white-hot pain tore through his skull. In the dream, he felt his own eyeballs begin to crack like dry porcelain. Warm, thick blood sprawled from his lids, staining his vision a deep, visceral crimson. He couldn't understand its shape; he couldn't comprehend its power. It was a God, or perhaps the thing that hunted Gods.
Through the haze of pain and blood, he saw the mists. One of the five beings radiated a Green Mist—a power that felt like the pulse of a forest, yet when it struck, it unmade the very atoms of its target. Another was wreathed in a Violet Mist, a swirling vortex of raw destruction that screamed with the sound of a thousand dying stars.
"Trisenn! Hey, Trisenn! Wake up!"
The battlefield shattered. The blood in his eyes vanished, replaced by the flickering light of a candle. Adrian bolted upright, his chest heaving as he gasped for air that wasn't filled with the scent of death. He was drenched in a cold, shivering sweat, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs.
Seolang was leaning over him, his hand hovering near Adrian's shoulder. To Seolang, he wasn't a man from another world; he was just Trisenn, his roommate.
"You were trembling," Seolang said, his voice low and cautious. "You looked like you were being torn apart. Was it a nightmare?"
Adrian couldn't speak. He pushed himself off the bed, his legs feeling like lead, and stumbled toward the washroom. He slammed the door and leaned over the sink, splashing freezing water onto his face again and again. He stared into the mirror, half-expecting to see the cracks in his eyes and the sprawling blood from the vision.
His eyes were clear, but the fear remained. It wasn't just a dream. He could still feel the residue of the Green Mist and the Violet Mist humming in the back of his mind. He realized then that his journey between worlds hadn't just moved his body; it had opened a door. The powers he had seen—the destruction and the life—were now a part of him.
"What was that?" he whispered to his reflection, his voice trembling. "Was that the future or past? Or is that the price of the power I'm starting to wake up?"
He stood there for a long time, the silence of the dormitory a sharp contrast to the screaming battlefield in his head, knowing that Trisenn was no longer just an alias—it was the name of whatever he was becoming.