The dormitory common room smelled like sweat, instant noodles, and the faint tang of dust that never seemed to leave no matter how often housekeeping passed through. Simon's side of the room was buried under half-finished energy drinks and a glowing laptop that hummed with fans on the verge of giving out. Nick sat cross-legged on the carpet, his long hair tied up haphazardly in a bun, shuffling a deck of cards with the confidence of someone who thought he had mastered every trick.
Ethan leaned against the doorframe, watching them go at it again. The slap of cards on the table was rhythmic, punctuated by Simon's sharp curses whenever Nick managed to draw something strong.
"Won't you guys ever get tired of this?" Ethan finally asked, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Of what?" Nick grinned without looking up. His hands moved like a magician's, one card sliding into place with a flourish. "This isn't just a game, Ethan. It's strategy, warfare, a clash of wills. Think of it like chess, but with fireballs and demon queens."
"More like poker for nerds," Simon muttered, tossing a card down with a thud. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "And for the record, I'm still ahead on wins. Nick just likes to act like he's hot shit."
Nick shot him a look. "Keep talking. You'll be begging for mercy in a minute."
Ethan stifled a laugh and walked further inside. He crouched beside their table, scanning the spread of cards. The artwork always caught his eye before anything else: gilded frames around painted images of warriors clad in ornate armor, beasts snarling with fangs the size of swords, and sorceresses whose gazes looked like they could set the world on fire. The colors glowed beneath the cheap dorm light, more alive than the dull beige walls around them.
He reached out instinctively to touch one of Simon's cards, a cloaked knight with glowing eyes.
"Hands off," Simon warned automatically, though his tone was playful.
Ethan raised both palms. "Relax. I'm just looking. The art's cool, that's all."
Nick's grin widened. "See? It gets you. You can't resist it. You should start buying some packs yourself, get addicted like us."
"I already did," Ethan said, almost sheepishly. He pulled a slim deck from his backpack and placed it on the table.
That shut them up for about three seconds. Then both Nick and Simon leaned in and immediately burst into laughter so violent Simon nearly toppled his chair.
"Bro!" Nick choked out between gasps. "Are you… are you that desperate?"
Simon slapped his knee, laughing so hard tears welled in his eyes. "Not a single monster? Not one knight? Just--- just women. Beautiful, terrifying women." He picked up the top card and waved it. "Oh my god, this one's a nun covered in blood. What even---"
Ethan snatched it back, his ears burning. "Shut the hell up. The art's tempting, okay? You can't tell me you wouldn't at least look at them twice."
"Tempting," Nick said, practically howling. "Tempting is one word, obsessed is another."
Simon leaned in closer, squinting at the cards as if analyzing them for the first time. "You even realize what you picked up, man? These are all psychos. Look, this one's lore literally says she loves to crucifies her enemies with thorns. This other one loves to rips her enemies to pieces. You've assembled the most homicidal girl squad possible."
"They're strong," Ethan muttered. "Strong and beautiful. That's the point, isn't it? Why would you want ugly cards?"
Nick smirked and jabbed a finger at him. "Because when you summon a monster, you want something that doesn't stab you in the middle of the night."
Simon joined in, grinning wickedly. "Imagine summoning one of these ladies for real. You wouldn't get a girlfriend. You'd get bled dry in your sleep while she whispered sweet nothings."
"Sounds like half your exes," Ethan shot back.
"Touché," Simon admitted with a laugh.
The room filled with chuckles and mockery, Ethan the target but not the victim it was the kind of ribbing only friends could manage. Even so, he hugged his deck a little tighter than necessary.
After another hour of banter and card slapping, Ethan finally rose with a stretch. "Alright, I'm out. Some of us actually need to get back to our shoebox dorms."
"Later, card-simp," Nick called without looking up.
"Don't let your new girlfriends bite!" Simon added, and both dissolved into another round of laughter.
Ethan just shook his head with a crooked grin, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
---
His own dorm was a far cry from theirs.
The hallway light flickered ominously as he unlocked his door and stepped into darkness. The smell hit him first: a mix of dust, old clothes, and the faint sourness of unwashed dishes. Without electricity for nearly two months, the room felt less like a living space and more like a storage closet.
He clicked on his flashlight, the weak beam cutting a cone through the gloom.
The cramped space looked even smaller under the dim light: papers stacked precariously on his desk, clothes strewn across the floor, the rickety closet sagging in the corner like it might collapse at any second.
He kicked off his shoes, muttering, "Home sweet hell."
His foot caught on a bag half-buried under laundry. He stumbled forward, arms flailing, and smacked hard into the closet door.
"Son of a---"
The impact rattled everything inside. Books, folders, and a rain of junk cascaded out. One object hit the floor with a sharp crack: a wooden box, carved with faded floral patterns.
Ethan froze.
His grandmother's.
She had given it to him years ago, insisting it was important. He'd shoved it into the closet and forgotten.
Now, the lock had snapped open. The lid creaked wide.
A blinding light burst forth, swallowing the room whole.
Ethan screamed, throwing up an arm, but the brilliance seared through closed eyelids.
And then silence.
---
When his vision cleared, he wasn't in his dorm anymore.
He staggered to his feet, his breath ragged. A forest stretched endlessly around him, every leaf glowing faintly under the shine of not one but three moons. Above them, impossibly huge planets loomed, their surfaces painted in colors that bled across the night sky.
"What the hell…" His voice sounded small against the vast silence.
A sudden, splitting agony tore through his skull. He collapsed to his knees, clutching his head, his heart pounding like it would explode. It wasn't just pain it was as if something clawed inside his chest, ripping at the very fabric of his soul.
The world blinked.
He was no longer in a forest. He stood in a place beyond comprehension an endless void of stars and shifting galaxies, as though the cosmos itself pulsed with life. Space warped around him, luminous and suffocating, and yet it felt disturbingly familiar.
Like it had always been inside him.
Ethan's lungs burned. His throat tore open as he screamed into the void:
"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!"
The words echoed into infinity, swallowed by silence.
Then he saw them.
Twelve enormous cards, each the size of buildings, glowing blood-red, floating in a circle around him.
His heart lurched. Recognition flooded him.
The cards he had bought.
The women Nick and Simon had mocked.
Drawn now not in ink but in fire, their painted forms seemed to breathe, their beauty sharpened into something terrible and divine.
He drifted forward, helpless, as if pulled by invisible strings. His hand rose. Trembled. Touched one.
The moment his fingers brushed the surface, a force yanked him backward through the void, through his own chest, through the very fabric of self.
And in the final flash before consciousness ripped away, he realized the horrifying truth.
This wasn't outside.
This space had always been inside him.
---
He slammed against the forest floor again, dirt clinging to his palms. His flashlight lay useless beside him. His body shook, breath ragged, head pounding as if it might split open.
Then---
"Are you alright, my summoner?"
The voice was soft. Melodic. Like a lullaby sung in a cathedral.
Ethan's head snapped up.
She stood before him.
Tall, statuesque, draped in a black-and-crimson habit embroidered with roses. Her eyes were hidden beneath a silken white veil embroidered with lilies, yet blood streamed constantly from beneath it, trailing down pale cheeks. Her skin was laced with black thorny vines piercing through her flesh, each wound shimmering faintly with divine light.
Every drop of blood that touched the soil birthed roses instantly, crimson blooms opening as if nourished by her suffering.
Her smile was gentle. Serene.
But her presence was both sanctity and terror woven into one.
Ethan's lips trembled, his voice barely audible.
"Ro… Rosaria?…"
The nun inclined her head, as if greeting an old friend.