I woke up with a violent jolt, as if some invisible force had ripped me out of the void and thrown me back into my body. The icy air of the underground cell hit my face, heavy with old dampness and the smell of rusted iron. My muscles throbbed as if I had fought monsters all night—or, come to think of it, fucked nonstop, which was closer to the truth with those sleazy, illusory echoes in the Nightmare.
I blinked slowly, adjusting my eyes to the dim light of the magical torches on the walls. The system interface still hovered at the edge of my vision, visible only to me, as cold and merciless as ever.
[Current Vital Points: 3420]
[Consumption: 1 point per minute]
[Estimated time until depletion: approximately 2 days and 9 hours]
Fuck, it was already ticking again. The bonus from those virgin echoes and anal had bought me some breathing room, but it was temporary. I needed more. A lot more. And now in the real world.
The guards around the bars stared at me slack-jawed, as if I were a dead man who had decided to come back to life. Two of them took a step back, enchanted spears trembling in their hands. The older knight—the gray-bearded one who had questioned me before I fell asleep—stood at the open cell door, eyes wide in pure disbelief.
"By all the winds of the islands… you're back. Alive. Whole. And no Nightmare Creature was born in your place."
He approached cautiously, as if I might explode or turn into a monster at any second. The other guards murmured among themselves, low voices full of superstition and fear.
"Kid… Shade Fou Bartfort, right? You're the first from the periphery I've seen survive the First Nightmare in years. Most poor mobs like you… well, turn into something horrible pretty damn fast."
I gave a crooked, weak smile and slowly sat down on the cold stone floor. The anti-mana chains had already been removed—a clear sign they no longer saw me as a dangerous infected.
"Beginner's luck, I guess."
Bullshit luck. It was the perverted system forcing me to use those echoes as sexual toys to rack up points. But I couldn't open my mouth about that. Details of Aspects are absolute secrets among the Awakened—an almost sacred taboo in the kingdom. Talking about your power can mark you as weak or as a target, and only after death does the guild study the body to catalog it.
The knight gestured to the guards with authority.
"Bring clean clothes, decent food, and water. And call the local guild registrar immediately. He's an official Awakened now. He needs the standard examination and seal."
The next few hours passed in a blur of bureaucratic procedures. They gave me a simple but new tunic—thick fabric, better than my old clothes torn and dirtied by the fields—fresh bread still warm, cured cheese, and a mug of light mead. I devoured everything like a starving animal, my stomach growling after the insane "effort" in the Nightmare.
The registrar arrived late in the morning: a middle-aged woman, a minor noble in the gray uniform of the Awakened Guild, with cold, appraising eyes typical of those who hold power in this matriarchal world. She scanned me with a portable mana crystal, frowning as she read the floating results.
"Aspect confirmed. Divine Rank… but defective. Clear anomaly detected in the soul. Interesting. Rare for someone from the periphery."
She noted everything on a faintly glowing magical tablet, her voice dry and professional.
"Full name: Shade Fou Bartfort. Origin: Bartfort Barony, southwestern peripheral island of Holfort. Survivor of the First Nightmare. Status: Initial-rank Awakened. No family legacy or advanced training registered."
She looked me up and down, a mix of clinical curiosity and subtle disdain—the standard look noble women give men from poor lineages like mine.
"You have raw potential, kid. Divine Rank is serious business, even defective. But without a powerful patroness or resources… it'll be hard to climb ranks or survive the next Nightmares. The central academy sometimes accepts peripheral Awakened, but only if they prove immediate usefulness to the heiresses."
Usefulness. Of course. In this world, male Awakened are seen as valuable tools for noblewomen—loyal bodyguards, disposable lovers, or trophy husbands to strengthen family alliances.
I nodded without showing emotion, keeping my face neutral.
"Thank you for the official registration."
She shrugged, activating the permanent seal on my right wrist—a magical mark that glowed blue for a second before fixing itself into my skin, visible only under mana light. Irrefutable proof of an Awakened.
After that, the old knight personally escorted me to the fortress exit at full dawn. The sky over the floating islands was clear, shades of pink and gold, with small merchant airships crossing the distant horizon.
"Go back to your family, Shade. Rest your body, train whatever you can. The Second Nightmare comes when the Spell decides — it can be months, years. But don't waste time. Find a patroness if you can… or you'll end up as cannon fodder in the aerial wars."
Patroness. A noblewoman to "sponsor" me in exchange for absolute service — and almost always more than that.
"Understood. Thanks for the advice."
I walked alone through the dusty streets of the main village of our island, legs still heavy but my mind racing like never before. The interface kept flashing nonstop: Vital Points 3380 now — draining slowly, but constant and relentless. I need real sources. Fast. Before the Beast's hunger takes over again.
The Bartfort barony was a cluster of ancient, worn-down buildings on a medium-sized agricultural island, surrounded by vast fields of mana crystals and basic survival crops. The main mansion was imposing on paper, but in reality decayed — walls covered in creeping ivy, cracked windows, weak magical barriers that barely held off smaller flying beasts.
I reached the main gate around noon, sweat running down my back despite the cool breeze. The family guards — ordinary men with light armor and simple spears — recognized me instantly and opened the gate wide-eyed, almost tripping over themselves.
"T-the fifth young master? You came back alive? And with the Awakened mark?"
News travels faster than an airship on small islands like this.
I stepped into the inner courtyard, boots kicking up dry dust from the worn stone floor. Servants stopped working to stare at me, whispers spreading like wildfire.
My mother, Baroness Bartfort, was in the main hall overseeing accounts with minor visitors when she saw me enter through the large doors. A woman in her forties, black hair streaked with gray pulled into a severe bun, a hard face marked by the lines of someone who rules poor lands with an iron hand and no mercy.
She froze for a moment, eyes narrowing as she recognized me.
"Shade? You… survived the Spell?"
Her voice was cold as always, without a trace of relief or maternal joy. Just pure calculation, weighing the new value I represented.
My siblings were scattered across the hall: the younger twins standing like statues, my youngest sister Jenna — sixteen years old, arrogant and ambitious like every noblewoman in this world — already forming a sarcastic smile on her lips.
Jenna was the first to laugh out loud, her cutting voice echoing off the walls.
"The useless family mob turned Awakened? Impossible. Must be some trick or a guild mistake."
The servants lowered their eyes, but the whispers continued. My mother slowly rose from the main chair, approaching with measured steps.
"Show the mark. Now."
I extended my right wrist without a word. The seal glowed faintly under the light from the windows, confirming everything.
She nodded slowly, a calculating, predatory smile appearing on her lips for the first time.
"Interesting… very interesting. A Divine-rank Awakened in the family, even if defective. That changes things. We'll officially register you at the central guild as soon as possible. It might attract a real heiress interested in an alliance."
Useful. That's what I was now. An unexpected asset, not a son.
But inside me, something more primal was growing. Not just hunger for food — the system whispered in my mind, a low heat rising through my veins, desire stirring.
Points: 3340.
I need more. Soon. Very soon.
A young servant girl — dark-skinned, modest curves beneath her simple uniform, shy brown eyes lowered — approached carrying a pitcher of fresh water. Our gazes met for a second longer than they should have.
The interface immediately flashed, shameless as hell:
[Potential task detected: Intimate contact with virgin commoner — estimated 150 points.]
Fuck. The Beast was already starting to wake up for real.