After a rather long debrief from Instructor Madison, and a thorough medical examination—courtesy of a different instructor who had healed his ribs, arm, and side—Felix was finally allowed to rest.
Madison had explained that since he returned from the Demon Domain, it meant he had absorbed some of its power. But she warned him not to expect some grand, unstoppable force. "That's not how it works," she said. She promised to explain more during the next class with the rest of the Thirteen, but gave a brief comparison in the meantime: they were like buds, just barely sprouted, with a lot of growing left to do.
Felix was told to rest—and, begrudgingly, he did. Eventually, sleep took him.
He had an odd dream.
He was walking down a long, familiar hallway. Paintings lined the walls, but each one was veiled. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make out what they were depicting.
After a while, he gave up and just kept walking.
Eventually, he came across another painting—this one was visible. It was the Coward again, but this time he was younger. Much younger. Smaller, even. It had to be him as a child.
He seemed to be making something float—a toy, or maybe a stone—suspended in the air by invisible strands. It moved delicately, hovering as if guided by unseen fingers.
Felix didn't know why, or when it happened, but at some point he found himself mimicking the same movements. He tried for a long time. Then, very subtly, a single thread began to emerge from his index finger.
"Yes! I did it!" Felix exclaimed.
But the moment he did, the thread retracted back into his body.
"Damn it…" he whispered.
His eyes snapped open. He was awake.
Felix looked around—still in the medical ward. On the table beside him was the empty glass he had used earlier for water.
Turning toward it, he extended his hand and repeated the same motions from the dream. With effort, a single thread extended from his fingertip and connected to the glass.
He took a breath.
"Okay. Step one: success. Step two, however…"
He focused on the image of lifting the cup. Slowly, it began to shake. He could feel the strain in his body. Then, finally, the cup rose—barely an inch off the table.
"Fuck yeah!" Felix exclaimed, quickly regaining focus so he wouldn't drop and shatter it.
He gently set the cup back down on the desk. Felix allowed himself a small, self-satisfied grin.
"Not so hard, is it?" he muttered, a touch smug.
With a flourish, he raised both arms in triumph—completely forgetting about the thin thread still tethered to the cup. The sudden motion jerked it off the edge.
Crash.
The glass shattered on the floor. Felix froze, arms still in the air, staring at the mess.
"...Okay. Not so easy. Got it. Message received."
Once he was finally cleared to return to his room, Felix spent most of his time experimenting—lifting and moving objects with his thread. Extending it now came almost effortlessly, but manipulating things with it was another story.
With intense focus, he could control objects within a twelve-foot radius, guiding them through the air with deliberate, careful movements. Right now, he was practicing with his knife, trying to float it in smooth, controlled arcs.
If he could master flying the blade with precision, it might become more than just a tool—it could be a weapon. A really good one at that.
A soft buzz vibrated against Felix's wrist.
He glanced down to see a message flash across his watch:
System Notification – Mandatory Meeting: Instructor Madison.
"Guess practice will have to wait," Felix muttered with a sigh.
With a quick flick of his wrist, the dagger that had been floating mid-air snapped back to his palm. He caught it without effort, the metal cool against his skin, then slid it into its worn scabbard. Turning on his heel, Felix stepped out of his room and into the corridor.
He paused for a moment, staring down the hallway with a grim expression.
It used to be filled with voices—casual conversations between friends, quiet laughter before drills, the soft buzz of life. Now it was silent, almost hollow. Only a few figures moved ahead, scattered and slow. The space felt larger than it used to. Emptier.
He joined the others as they made their way toward the classroom in silence.
When they arrived, the atmosphere was heavy. Most of the room sat in quiet gloom, the tension thick enough to taste. Felix and William were among the few who seemed less affected—not because they were stronger, but because they'd always kept to themselves. They hadn't gotten close to anyone outside of each other. That distance had spared them the worst of the loss.
Still, Felix couldn't shake the feeling. He scanned the room, noting all the empty chairs. He could've easily been one of them—just another name crossed off the roster. A memory.
His gaze drifted across the remaining members of the so-called Lucky Thirteen. Most of the higher-ranked had survived, which wasn't surprising. Unfortunately, that also meant Travis had made it through. Felix's eyes lingered on the arrogant bastard for a beat before moving on.
Aside from Travis, the only notable survivors were the level-seven siblings, standing side by side like statues, and a handful of level fours and threes—each with eyes that looked older than they had any right to be.
Felix leaned toward William.
"So," he asked quietly, "how did your meeting with your demon go?"
William fell silent for a moment, his gaze drifting somewhere far beyond the room, as if watching a scene no one else could see.
"It went as well as it could, I suppose," he said finally, voice low and measured. After a long pause, he added quietly, "It was… this thing. It looked like a knight."
"A knight?"
"Yeah." William's eyes darkened a little, as if recalling something heavy. "It was in a throne room, surrounded by the bodies of other knights—fallen, still. And it was kneeling, barely holding itself up on its sword. Its armor was cracked, battered, breaking apart… but then it would repair itself. Over and over. Like it was caught in this endless loop—wounded, healing, wounded again."
He shook his head slowly. "It wasn't dying. Not really. It was… waiting. Not for me, or for battle. Just waiting."
"When I stepped closer, it looked at me. Not with anger or fear, but something softer. Like it was asking for help."
"I saw a sword lying near it, so I picked it up. I looked into the slit of its visor and understood. Its real body was gone—dead. All that remained was this… echo, trapped in my mind. It wanted to end the cycle. To finally rest."
"So I pressed the blade against one of the fresh cracks in its armor. And I swear, I heard it thank me."
He looked up slowly, weary but resolute. "And then I woke up."
William didn't have to fight his demon either huh, Felix thought to himself.
Just then, Instructor Madison walked in.
Her boots echoed sharply against the floor, silencing the murmurs in the room. She scanned the class—what was left of it—with a gaze that was both commanding and strangely… tired.
"Welcome back," she said, her voice steady. "I know it must've been hard. What you went through can't be erased—but it's behind you now. What matters is that you're alive."
A pause hung in the air.
"For the next few weeks, your focus is simple: figure out your new abilities. Learn how they work. Get used to them. Make them yours. Once you've done that, you'll be ready to enter the Demon World. And maybe… strong enough to come back again someday. Just like I did. Just like all the instructors here."
A hand raised near the back—one of the Level Fours. If I remembered right, his name was Jake. Or maybe Jackie. Something like that.
"What's the point in coming back," he said, his voice low but clear, "if we're just going to be seen as monsters?"
Madison didn't hesitate.
"You won't have to fight monsters anymore, at least not the kind you faced before."
She exhaled sharply, the kind of breath that carries weight.
"But I get it," she said, her tone quieter. "You're not wrong. To most people, we're never going to be anything more than time bombs—too dangerous to be trusted. That's why we're kept in the Demon World until we've proven we can control ourselves."
She folded her arms, leaning slightly against the edge of the desk.
"I made it out because I was strong. Strong enough to survive. Strong enough to come back. And what did that get me?" She gestured around. "This job. Watching over others like me. Because the system thinks it's safer that way."
Another pause. A longer one.
Then, she straightened.
"So here's a bit of advice," Madison said, eyes gleaming with something just shy of madness. "If you ever get strong enough to leave… don't. Not right away."
She took a step forward.
"Get stronger. Make a place for yourselves—one that can't be taken from you. If this world won't accept what you've become…" she grinned, sharp and fearless, "…then you build one that will."
Madison snapped her fingers, and the lights dimmed slightly. A large screen behind her flickered to life, casting a cold glow over the room. Jagged lines and swirling shapes appeared—like a map, but nothing like the clean, logical ones they'd grown up seeing. This one was chaotic. Shifting. Alive.
The class leaned forward, eyes narrowing.
"This," Madison said, gesturing to the map, "is what we think we know about the Demon World."
She let the words hang in the air for a moment.
Then she shook her head slightly, almost amused.
"Actually… I should stop calling it that. 'Demon World' is just what people here call it. A name born out of fear and ignorance."
She turned toward the screen, her expression shifting—sharpening.
"But over there," she said, voice low and deliberate,
"we don't call it the Demon World."
She tapped the screen once, and the image flickered—warped ruins, jagged landscapes, symbols half-buried in ash.
"We call it… Nythra's Cradle."
Silence followed.
Then someone blurted out, "Who's Nythra?"
Another voice chimed in—dry, skeptical. "And why a cradle? That place doesn't exactly scream lullabies."
Madison raised a hand. The room quieted.
"To be honest?" she said, shoulders lifting in a shrug. "I don't know."
She turned back to the screen, watching the twisted terrain scroll past like a living wound.
"It's just what we've always called it. Long before I got pulled in, long before any of the instructors. The name's old. Older than most of the things still standing over there."
She smirked faintly.
"One thing you'll learn real quick—we know a lot less than we pretend to. Sure, you'll run into a few Demonkin scholars digging through ruins, trying to piece together old scripts. Some of them might know a few fragments. A word here, a line there. But real answers?"
She shook her head.
"You'll have to find those yourselves."
She took in a long breath and sighed.
"Now, back to the matter at hand,"
Madison said, voice cutting through the murmurs like a blade.
"When you enter Nythra's Cradle, you'll be spat out somewhere random. Could be a scorched wasteland, could be inside a jungle made of bone. No one controls where you land. Your best shot at surviving? Find the Sanctum."
She let the word hang in the air for a moment.
"It's a massive fortress, sealed with ancient magicks that repel Demon Creatures. The only true safe haven. The only home Demonkin like you will ever know. And thankfully—" she gave a faint smile, "—it doesn't shift locations like everything else in the Cradle. It stays anchored. So, keep moving, and eventually, you might stumble across it."
A hand shot up from the crowd.
"How are we even supposed to find it? Just wander around and hope we don't die?"
Madison raised an eyebrow, then reached beneath the podium. When her hand reemerged, it held a silver chain dangling a black, needle-like pendant that glinted ominously under the overhead lights.
"Not quite. Not without these."She held it up for all to see."This is a Drifter Pendant. It senses the seals on the Sanctum's walls—magical signatures etched deep into the stone. Hold it steady, and the pendant will point you in the right direction. It won't save your life, but it'll give you a direction. And in the Cradle, that's more than most get."
Felix felt a flicker of hope cut through the fear building in his gut.
At least I won't be completely lost in that hell, he thought, managing a crooked grin.
"Now then," Madison continued, flipping to a new page on her tablet. "Let's talk power. There are two main ways to grow stronger once you're inside."
She tapped a command on the touchscreen. The large monitor behind her flickered to life, displaying images of slain Demon Creatures—hulking, grotesque beasts with molten eyes and jagged limbs. Beside them were black-purple gems, pulsing with an eerie light.
"First method's the slowest—but safest. Just being inside the Cradle will build up Dark Ether in your body over time. If you find the Sanctum, you can hole up and let the Ether seep in. Wait it out, evolve gradually. That's the patient way."
She paused, letting that sink in.
"The second method… is faster. And far more dangerous."
Another image flashed on the screen: a Demon Creature split open, and within it, a heartstone—large, jagged, glowing with raw, condensed power.
"You hunt Demon Creatures. Kill them. And then you devour their Heartstones. Yes—devour. Inside every one of them is a gem of crystallized Dark Ether. Consume it, and your body absorbs the energy. Makes you stronger. Some beasts have more than one. Some have them the size of your head."
Her voice darkened.
"If you ever see one of those, you're probably already inside its stomach."
Laughter rippled through the room—but it was hollow. Nervous. No one was sure if she was joking.
With a flick of her hand, the screen went dark.
"That concludes your debrief." She stepped out from behind the podium, her expression hardening. "We can't train you to use your powers. They're too different—too volatile. That part's up to you. Train together. Go solo. Your choice. But whatever you do, learn fast."
She gave them a look that silenced the last of the murmurs.
"Because in Nythra's Cradle, hesitation is just another word for death. Dismissed."