[You have slain, Fallen Demon, Crawling Menace.]
[You have received a memory.]
Asteria stood at the very tip of the vanguard, a solitary figure of dark silk and radiant, violet starlight cutting through the grim dark of the ruined warehouse. Her dark blade, the [Blade of Destiny], moved with a terrifying rhythm. Every single arc of her sword was a life claimed; every life claimed was another blessing of essence, another memory harvested to fuel her growing, private arsenal.
Directly behind her, moving like a single, multi-headed beast of iron and marble, were her servants. The Marble Saints did not slacken for a second. Their tactical cohesion was entirely unparalleled, shifting and locked together in an arrow-like phalanx that protected her flanks. Asteria had spent months analysing their movements and cohesion; she knew that if they worked in absolute unison, they could comfortably bring down a higher ranked Corrupted nightmare creature without her even lifting a finger.
But today was not a day for safe theories. Today was a day for battle.
The Marble Saints slaughtered every abomination that managed to slip past Asteria's primary line of engagement. Their martial style was grounded, immensely heavy, and ruthlessly adaptable — a cold efficiency learned through decades of forgotten warfare within the Underworld and guidance by their Prince. They moved with an unsettling lack of sound, their stone shields catching the dripping, black blood of the creatures known as Crawling Menaces.
To any outside observer stumbling into the shattered perimeter of the sector, the lines of monstrosity would have blurred. It was a one-sided massacre. The true monster on the battlefield was not the invading horde of the Nightmare Spell, but the silent silhouette of a Saint directing a legion of tamed horrors.
The deeper Asteria waded into the fray, the more the front lines of the enemy began to fracture. The nightmare creatures — beings driven entirely by insatiable hunger — were hesitating. For the first time in their brief, terrestrial existences, they felt the primitive terror of being hunted. They looked upon the Queen of Nightmare and saw a apex predator that smelled of the very void they crawled out of.
[You have gained: 2 Fallen Demons: Crawling Menace, as servants.]
'Two more,' Asteria thought, her teeth grinding together as she felt the familiar, greasy pull of her Flaw paired with the broad Gate nagging at the back of her mind. 'Many more to go.'
The Crawling Menaces were grotesque things, structured like giant, armoured centipedes with human-like faces distorted into permanent shrieks. They possessed extraordinarily sharp, scythe-like claws and a blinding agility that would have easily torn a cohort of normal Awakened to ribbons. But here, trapped between Asteria's longsword and the crushing shields of her stone vanguard, they were nothing but raw materials.
With every drop of black blood spilled, the inner call of corruption grew louder in Asteria's head. It was a rhythmic, intoxicating whisper, telling her to abandon the pretense of humanity. "Slaughter them all," the voice purred. "Slaughter the invaders, slaughter your servants, slaughter yourself — tear open the rift and come home."
She fought the lunacy the same way she managed her Flaw: by erecting a hard psychological wall. She kept her interactions with humans non-existent to avoid inflicting accidental harm, using the battlefield as a pressure valve for her madness. Nightmare creatures were exempt from her mercy. They were fuel.
[You have gained: 6 Fallen Beasts: Crawling Thrall, as servants.]
SLICE.
The [Blade of Destiny] elongated mid-swing, its violet edge tearing through the air with a high-pitched hum. The strike extended far beyond the physical reach of a human arm, burying itself deep into the thick, armoured neck of the Gate Guardian. The abomination collapsed to its side with a pathetic, wet thud, its multi-jointed legs twitching against the cracked concrete.
"It would be much nicer if you could simply be loyal to me instead," Asteria sighed, her voice a low, raspy murmur behind her translucent mask. She hovered the tip of her starlight blade right above its thrashing, disgusting face. "But regardless... thank you for fueling my treasury."
[You have slain: Corrupted Devil, Chaos Crawler.]
[You have received a memory.]
By the time the warehouse fell silent, save for the crackle of crumbling concrete, Asteria had cleared the Category Three gate entirely unassisted. Nine new memories sat in her soul sea. Eight new servants had been forcibly bound to her will, bringing her total personal retinue to twenty-one.
She looked down at her hands. They were shaking — not from fear, but from the electrical hum of the transcendent essence pulsing through her veins. Her silk dress was stained with dark ichor.
"One down," she spat, wiping a smear of black fluid from her jaw. "However many more to go."
The anger inside her burned hotter than the corruption. She was furious at the Sovereigns. She was furious at Ki Song's tired, cynical face. Those who sat at the absolute pinnacle of human power were actively suppressing the birth of new Saints, choosing to hoard their strength and buy time to abandon the Waking World. They looked at the billions living in the Waking World and saw acceptable losses.
The weak? They were already dead in their minds. The strong? Simply pawns...
...The outskirts?
They didn't exist.
Asteria too, wouldn't exist to them if she didn't have a little bit of on her side, and she refused to be a piece.
Summoning the grand, intimidating frame of the [Grave of Abundance], she watched the large wooden lid swing open with a heavy creak. With a sharp mental flick, she ushered her twenty-one servants back into the warm, storage memory within her soul sea. She needed quiet to plan her next strike.
***
Life was moving on, and on it went; Asteria's was as intense or chaotic as another's life, despite the chaos caused by politics or by her own refusal of authority.
And another day meant another Nightmare Gate — another day of fighting in refusal to a Supreme's unjust choices that would cause billions of lives to perish.
Today it was a Category Two gate, but nonetheless as deadly as any other abomination that crawled out from the Dream Realm — no matter how strong you are, you can't let down your guard; that's how the Awakened get killed.
That goes for the Awakened that fell under the Queen of Nightmare's mistake in the fight against the Fallen Titan, Gluttonous Maw — you could argue they weren't prepared or paying attention, but in reality it was Asteria's attention that mattered and it wasn't on her allies below.
'Jet handled it on my behalf but I still don't feel any less guilty even if I'm supporting them from the background.'
Asteria needed to be relatively quick with this gate — which meant no holding back and no stalling for time just for a few extra servants; people's lives were at stake. The gate was situated in one of the nicer parks of the NQSC and the creatures swarming out of it had a unique aptitude for flames.
The heat radiating from the rift reminded her faintly of Nephis. It was a dry, arrogant type of flame, reminiscent of a star that believed its own light could cleanse the universe. But where Nephis's fire was a burning testament to willpower, this horde was merely a chaotic wildfire born from the cracks of a dying world.
[You have slain, Awakened Devil, Inflamed Blaze.]
The Inflamed Blazes were spectral abominations, appearing like floating, armoured wraiths made of living flame. They moved with a drifting, weightless speed, expelling plumes of superheated gas that turned the surrounding trees to charcoal in seconds.
Yet, their elemental nature meant nothing to the [Blade of Destiny]. Because Asteria was a Saint, and because her weapon possessed the specific runic enhancement to ignore the defenses of those weaker than herself, her sword didn't just cut their physical armour — it cut their very being. Every strike severed the bond holding the flame together, causing the wraiths to dissipate into harmless gray soot.
[You have slain, Awakened Beast, Wisp of Embers]
[You have slain, Awakened Beast..]
Behind her, her entourage worked the flanks. The Marble Saints moved like an iron wall to her left, their heavy swords smashing directly into the glowing cores hidden within the wraiths' chests. To her right, her newly acquired centipede servants — the Crawling Menaces — were acting on their primitive instincts, physically unhinging their jaws to swallow the smaller wisps whole.
Asteria's eyes narrowed behind her veil as she saw a wisp vanish down a centipede's gullet. 'My money!' she cursed internally, a wave of genuine financial irritation breaking through her battle trance. 'Give that back to me, you vile wretches! If I didn't need your bodies for my legion, I would slaughter you right here for eating my soul shards!'
Asteria's saintly, golden and dark figure danced through the embers that descended into the Waking World, extinguishing the sparks that they clung onto swiftly, almost a representation of a firefighter putting out a rampaging fire — only this fire was more like a kitchen fire born by accident.
At the center of the burning park, hovering directly in front of the pulsing gate, was the Gate Guardian. This creature was far more solid than its floating sycophants. Its massive torso encased in a thick, crystalline carapace of black volcanic glass. The air around it warped from sheer thermal distortion; the grass within fifty yards had already been reduced to a fine black powder. The guardian appeared to be a Fallen Devil — it didn't seem to command those weaker than itself, it didn't influence it's surroundings and nor was it vast enough to be a titan.
To Asteria, it was remarkably lackluster. Her baseline disdain for high temperatures made her want to end the encounter as fast as humanly possible.
It could've been a challenge if Asteria wasn't a Saint and neither did she have Nether's blade — sadly, she'll never know the outcome if she didn't have either because fortunately she did have both and thus could dispatch her foes with efficiency.
She didn't bother wasting her essence on complex Runic Sorcery. She didn't want to risk causing a mass explosion that would level the surrounding areas — even if the government had already marked the zone as a write-off. Instead, she shifted the [Blade of Destiny] into its long spear form.
With a single, explosive leap that shattered the pavement beneath her boots, Asteria launched herself forward. The spear point, thrumming with power comparable to its rank and its wielder's desire for murder, it drove straight through the thick volcanic carapace of the devil, finding the centre in a single, flawless strike.
[You have slain, Fallen Devil, Flame's Ember.]
[You have received a memory: Pure Pyre.]
The massive entity collapsed, its internal fires violently imploding until nothing was left but a hollow shell of cooling glass and four glowing shards.
Asteria landed with a light thud, letting out a long, slow breath as the spear reverted to a simple longsword in her hand. She pulled out her communicator and sent a brief, encrypted ping to Jet's secure line, letting the government know the primary threat was neutralized and the area was ready for proper containment.
Walking over to the charred soil where the Gate Guardian had perished, she sat down on a half-melted stone bench, opening her glowing runes to inspect her prize.
Memory: [Pure Pyre]
Memory Rank: Ascended
Memory Tier: IV
Memory Type: Charm
Memory Description: ["A spirit of flames attempted to birth lesser wisps of themselves. He was lonely and wished for comfort within his scorching embrace.
Instead, his wisps could not withstand his heat despite being created from it — and thus they fled from their creator's grasp."]
Memory Enchantments: [Spirit's Plea], [Wisp's Blessing], [Funeral Pyre]
[Spirit's Plea]: This charm plagues the user with subtle emotions of longing while causing the user to feel abandonment easier.
[Wisp's Blessing]: The user is more resistant to high temperatures and pain — and gains a stronger resistance to flames and fire.
[Funeral Pyre]: The Pure Pyre grants the wielder minor control over flames and an affinity for them.
Asteria stared at the floating tunes for a few moments. The descriptions spun before her eyes, illuminated by her [Eyes of Truth].
"You know..." she murmured to the empty, smoking park. "This memory is completely useless to me, but it suits a certain arrogant, fire-starting princess perfectly. It's practically made for Nephis. I'll give it to her the next time I see h–"
Before she could even finish the thought, her long forgotten Ascended Ability interacted fluidly with her subconscious intent. Her connection to the unique dream-brand she had placed on Nephis flared within her soul sea.
[You have transferred your memory: Pure Pyre.]
Asteria blinked, baffled at what she just did.
"Huh?" she whispered, her jaw dropping beneath her mask. "Wait. Did I just... mail a memory across the world by accident?"
***
Many miles away, within the clinical, highly secured testing facilities of the Awakened Academy, the morning sun was just beginning to hit the glass facade.
Inside one of the standard lecture halls, a young man with messy black hair, pale skin, and shadows that seemed to linger a bit too closely to his leather coat stood behind a sleek podium. He adjusted his collar, looking out at the rows of newly awakened students who were staring at him with a mix of awe and anxiety.
"Good morning, Awakened," The man said, his tone perfectly flat, carrying the professional indifference of a man who had seen far too many people die. "I am Ascended Sunless. You can call me Master Sunless, or simply Master. Welcome to the first lecture of the Resource Management during Prolonged Expeditions and Intercitadel Travel course..."
He paused, his dark eyes sweeping over the room, noting the distinct lack of survival instinct in several of the younger students. He sighed internally, preparing himself for a very long, very tedious semester of trying to keep idiots alive.
***
Meanwhile, deep within the subterranean area of the very same institution, a completely different kind of negotiation was reaching its climax. The air in the room was freezing cold, thick with the subtle, suffocating tension that always accompanied a meeting between predatory bloodlines.
A woman stood perfectly still, her white clothes immaculate, her grey eyes entirely vacant of emotion as she looked across the polished obsidian table. Her posture was that of a soldier standing before a firing squad — unmoving, unbothered, and entirely dangerous.
On the other side of the table sat a young woman with sharp, aristocratic features and long, dark hair that framed a smile full of polished ivory and hidden daggers.
"Changing Star," The sharp, sitting woman said, her voice dripping with smooth, political courtliness as she slid a thick, glowing tablet across the desk.
"Master Morgan," The white haired, stoic soldier replied, her voice was low and carried no warmth whatsoever.
The contract between Great Clan Valor and the last daughter of the Immortal Flame clan lay between them, a formal alliance disguised as an employment agreement. It was a deal forged between enemies who fully intended to cut each other's throats the moment they split.
Nephis reached out her pale hand, her fingers hovering over the digital signing pad.
But right as her skin made contact with the surface, a sudden, blinding flash of violet light erupted deep within her soul sea. The unexpected gift was surprisingly, so intensely foreign, that Nephis's eyes snapped open slightly wider than they usually were. Her breath hitched for a fraction of a second, her perfect composure fracturing just enough for Morgan's sharp eyes to track the movement.
Deep within her mind, the cold, detached voice of the Nightmare Spell echoed with an unexpected announcement.
[You have received a memory.]