The pain wakes him.
Not physical pain—something deeper. Something that digs into his skull, coils around his brain like a cold snake, pressing.
Deryus opens his eyes. Darkness blankets the room. The candle has gone out. He doesn't know how long he's slept—an hour? Ten minutes? Doesn't matter.
The pain remains.
He sits. Slowly. Grips his head with both hands. Presses—as if pressure could stop the pain. It doesn't.
A voice—soft, distant, but clear:
"Deryus..."
He freezes. He knows this voice.
Alina.
He shuts his eyes—hard. Shakes his head.
Deryus (whispering): "No. Not now. Not real."
"Deryus... where are you?"
The voice draws closer. Surrounds him. Comes from every direction.
Deryus: "Stop. You're not real. You're just—"
"Help me... please..."
A scream. Short. Sharp. Slices the air like a knife.
Deryus opens his eyes—suddenly.
The room has changed.
Walls melt. The floor ripples. The ceiling breathes—rises and falls like a massive lung. The candle burns again—but the flame is black. It casts shadows that move on their own.
Deryus (looking around—cursing silently): "A dream. I'm... in a dream."
But when did he fall asleep? When did he cross the line?
He doesn't remember.
And that is the danger.
The door opens—slowly. A long metallic creak. Something enters.
A shadow. Tall. Thin. Moves unnaturally—like walking on invisible walls. Head tilted at an impossible angle.
The shadow (Alina's voice—but distorted, broken): "Why did you leave me... brother?"
Deryus stands—quickly. Steps back. His back touches the wall—sticky, warm, pulsing.
Deryus: "You're not Alina."
The shadow (crawling—hand reaching out): "But I was. Before you left me. Before you slept... and forgot me."
Deryus: "I didn't forget you! I didn't leave you! I was—"
The shadow (interrupting—screaming): "You were asleep! Eight years! While I... while I..."
It reaches Deryus. Extends a hand—long, skeletal fingers, claws touching his face.
Cold. Like death.
The shadow (whispering—too close): "While I screamed... in the dark."
Deryus grips the wrist—hard. Stares into the shadow's eyes.
Black. Empty. Reflecting nothing.
Deryus (calm, deadly): "You. Are not. Alina."
He pushes—forcefully. The shadow flies back, crashes into the wall. Melts into it—like ink in water.
The room shakes. The walls scream—hundreds, thousands, all screaming at once.
Deryus falls to his knees. Covers his ears. The screaming doesn't stop.
Another voice—clear, strong, cutting through the chaos:
"Wake up!"
A punch—hard—hits his face.
---
Deryus awakens—truly this time.
On the floor. His face hurts. Blood tastes metallic in his mouth. He looks up.
Nirveth stands above him, shaking her hand—her knuckles red.
Nirveth: "Welcome back."
Deryus (spitting blood): "Why—"
Nirveth: "You were in a dream. Three minutes. Eyes open. But you... weren't here."
Deryus (sitting slowly): "Three minutes? Felt like an hour."
Nirveth: "Time doesn't work the same way. Inside a dream, three minutes can be days. And days... can be seconds."
Deryus (touching his face—examining the blood): "What was that?"
Nirveth: "A leaking nightmare. Happens sometimes. Strong dreamers... their dreams leak into reality. Especially after trauma. Or weakness."
Deryus: "I am not weak."
Nirveth (looking at him—sharp): "You're shattered. And the shattered... are weak. Whether you like it or not."
Deryus (standing—staggering slightly): "So... how do I become strong?"
Nirveth (smiling—small, cruel): "By breaking again. Then rebuilding. Correctly."
Deryus: "What does that mean?"
Nirveth: "It means you'll hate the coming days. A lot."
She walks to the door, glances back.
Nirveth: "Wear something comfortable. We start in ten minutes."
Deryus: "Start what?"
Nirveth: "Your training. Body first. Then mind. Then soul."
Deryus: "And if I fail?"
Nirveth (pauses at the door—doesn't turn back): "You won't fail. Failure... means death. And you're too afraid of death to fail."
Deryus: "I am not afraid of death."
Nirveth (turning slowly): "Yes. You are. And that... is good. Fear keeps you alive. Courage... kills you."
She leaves. The door closes.
Deryus remains standing. Touches his split lip. Watches the blood on his fingers.
Deryus (whispering): "Courage kills... fear keeps you alive."
He wipes the blood on his pants.
Deryus: "Then... I'll stay afraid. And alive. Until I kill who must die."
---
Ten minutes later, Deryus stands in a large room.
High ceilings. Bare stone walls. Hard, compacted dirt floor. Oil lamps in each corner cast a dim yellow light.
In the center—a circle. Chalked in white. About five meters in diameter.
Nirveth stands inside. Changed clothes—black sweatpants, sleeveless shirt, barefoot. Hair today short, blond, tied back.
Nirveth: "Enter the circle."
Deryus approaches, examining the circle—strange symbols carved along the edge. Ancient language. Unknown to him.
Deryus: "What is this?"
Nirveth: "A containment ring. Prevents dreams from leaking. Inside... only reality. No illusions. No nightmares. Just you and me."
Deryus (stepping in—standing before her): "And what do we do?"
Nirveth (taking a fighting stance—arms raised, knees slightly bent): "We fight."
Deryus: "I barely—"
She launches. Fast. A punch toward his face.
Deryus leans—barely. The punch grazes his cheek.
A kick—toward his ribs.
He tries to block. His hand moves—late. The kick lands. Pain sharp. He coughs. Steps back.
Nirveth (relentless): "Defend!"
Another punch. He pushes it with his arm. Bones collide. It hurts.
A kick toward his leg. Hits. He staggers. Nearly falls.
Deryus (gasping): "Stop!"
Nirveth: "No."
She sweeps his leg. He falls—hard. Back hits the ground. Air expelled from his lungs.
She stands above him. Foot on his chest—pressing.
Nirveth: "In a real battle... you are dead now."
Deryus (struggling to breathe): "I... I know."
Nirveth: "No. You don't know. You think you know. But knowing and feeling... are different."
She increases the pressure—slightly. Deryus grabs her foot. Tries to push. Can't. Too weak.
Nirveth: "Your body is shattered. Muscles wasted. Reactions slow. You are... nothing."
Deryus (gritting teeth): "Then... help me."
Nirveth (lifting her foot): "That's what I'm doing."
She extends her hand. Deryus looks—moment. Then takes it.
She pulls him up.
Nirveth: "Again."
---
They fight. Once. Twice. Ten times.
Each time—Deryus falls.
Each time—Nirveth lifts him.
After the twentieth attempt—Deryus stays on the ground. Motionless. Breathing heavily. Sweat covering his face. His body screams.
Nirveth (standing above—breathing steadily): "Stand."
Deryus: "I... can't."
Nirveth: "Stand."
Deryus: "I said... I can't."
Nirveth (kicks him—lightly, but enough): "Stand. Now."
Something inside Deryus breaks. Anger? Pride? Despair?
He rises—somehow. Hand on his knee. Trembling.
Deryus (shouting): "Happy now?!"
Nirveth (calm, looking into his eyes): "No. But you started feeling. And that... is a step."
Deryus: "A step for what?!"
Nirveth: "To become what you must. A monster."
Deryus (laughing—crazy, broken): "A monster? Look at me! I'm barely standing!"
Nirveth: "Monsters aren't born strong. They are broken. Again and again. Until nothing remains but... rage."
She approaches. Stands before him—very close. Looks into his eyes.
Nirveth: "And you are angry, Deryus. Very angry. I see it. In your eyes. In the way you clench your hands. In every breath you take."
Deryus (whispering): "What do you want from me?"
Nirveth: "I want you to stop lying to yourself. You are not a hero. Not a savior. You are... broken, seeking revenge."
Deryus: "And what's wrong with that?"
Nirveth (smiles—first real smile): "Nothing. The problem only comes... when you pretend to be something else."
She steps back. Walks to the circle's edge. Stops.
Nirveth: "Today is over. Go. Sleep. Tomorrow... the real beginning."
Deryus: "And today was?"
Nirveth (half-turning): "A test. To see... if you deserve my time."
Deryus: "Do I?"
Nirveth: "I don't know yet. But you didn't give up. And that... is something."
She leaves. Alone.
Deryus collapses to his knees. Gasping. Everything hurts.
But somewhere—deep, beneath the pain, beneath the fatigue—he feels something.
A small spark.
Anger.
Real.
Pure.
Deryus (whispering—to himself): "Casper... I'll reach you. And when I do..."
He clenches his hand—hard. His nails draw blood.
Deryus: "You'll wish you killed me with the rest."
---
Elsewhere in the hideout, Nirveth enters a small room. Simple desk. Chair. Farrell sits—reading a report.
Farrell (without looking): "How was it?"
Nirveth: "Weak. But stubborn."
Farrell: "Will it help?"
Nirveth (pausing—thinking): "Maybe. If he doesn't die first."
Farrell: "And if he dies?"
Nirveth: "We find another. Or we all die. Simple."
Farrell (placing report—looking at her): "Don't get attached."
Nirveth: "I won't."
Farrell: "You said that about the last one. Then cried a week after he died."
Nirveth (freezes—moment): "The last... was different."
Farrell: "They're all different. Until they die. Then... all the same. Corpses."
Nirveth (turning—sharp): "You're kind as always."
Farrell: "Kindness... doesn't keep us alive. Coldness does."
Nirveth: "And is it worth staying alive... if you're dead inside?"
Farrell (silent—long moment): "I don't know. But I'd rather find out... after winning."
Nirveth doesn't reply. Leaves. Door closes—softly.
Farrell remains alone. Stares at the report. Doesn't read. Just... stares.
Farrell (whispering—to himself): "Deryus Craith Val... are you salvation? Or another nail in our coffin?"
No answer. Just silence.
---
Night falls over the city. Lights ignite—millions, like falling stars. Streets grow crowded. Nightlife awakens.
In a dark alley, a man walks. Alone. Wearing a long black coat, hood covering his face. Steps silent—trained.
He reaches a door. Knocks—certain rhythm.
The door opens. A large man appears—the same guard as before.
Guard: "Who are you?"
The man lifts his hood—slowly.
Young face. Mid-twenties. Sharp features. Dark, cold, empty eyes. Short black hair. Small scar across left brow.
Man (calm, expressionless): "Farrell sent me."
Guard (examining him—long): "Name?"
Man: "Raven."
Guard (thinking—then steps aside): "Enter."
Raven walks in. The door closes.
He moves through the corridors—knows the way. As if he's been here before.
Reaches the large room. Same twenty people. Stops. Looks.
Raven doesn't look at them. Walks—straight—to a specific room.
Deryus's room.
Stops at the door. Knocks—three soft knocks.
No answer.
Opens the door—slowly. Enters.
Deryus sleeps. Face toward the wall. Breathing heavy, uneven. Nightmares.
Raven approaches. Stands beside the bed. Stares at Deryus—long. Expressionless.
Raven (whisper—barely audible): "You… Deryus Craith Val."
Deryus doesn't wake. Tosses, murmuring something—unintelligible.
Raven sits—on the floor. Back against the wall. Observes.
Raven: "I will protect you. This… is an order."
He doesn't reveal who ordered it. Just… sits. Silent. Still.
A shadow in the dark.
---
The next morning. Deryus wakes—slowly. Every muscle screaming. Sits. Groans.
Notices something.
A man sits in the corner. Watching him.
Deryus jumps—alert. Grabs anything—the candle. Pathetically weak weapon.
Deryus: "Who are you?!"
Raven (doesn't move): "Raven."
Deryus: "What are you doing in my room?!"
Raven: "Protecting you."
Deryus: "From what?"
Raven (thinking—as if considering for the first time): "I don't know. But I was ordered to protect you."
Deryus: "By whom?"
Raven: "Farrell."
Deryus (lowering the candle—slowly): "And why do I need protection?"
Raven: "Because you are important. Or so they said."
Deryus: "And you… just follow orders?"
Raven: "Always."
Silence. Deryus studies this strange man. Expressionless face. No emotions in his eyes.
Deryus: "You're… strange."
Raven: "Yes."
Deryus: "Doesn't that bother you?"
Raven: "No."
Deryus (sighing): "Fine. Then… protect me."
Raven (nods—small gesture): "I will."
He stands. Walks to the door. Stops.
Raven (without turning): "Nirveth waits. Training. Now."
Deryus: "What time is it?"
Raven: "Dawn."
Deryus: "I barely slept—"
Raven: "Nirveth waits."
He leaves. Door open behind him.
Deryus remains seated. Stares at the empty doorway.
Deryus (whispering): "What the hell..."
He stands. Everything hurts more than yesterday.
But he stands.
Deryus: "Fine. Monster. Let's see… what you will make of me."
He steps forward. Pain follows. But also—something else.
Will.
Small. Solid. Growing.