"Underidoderidoderiododeriodoo"
- Winston Churchill
***
Madara practiced throwing kunai, hitting the target on the wall every time, his mind racing as he replayed the footage he had seen. Despite his brilliance, he had indeed forgotten about the cameras. Yet, the video was more of an advantage than a liability. In the future, he mused, striking another dagger into the bullseye, he could use this to his benefit. For now, however, it was wiser to remain in the shadows. Being caught was not an option.
With the last dagger embedded in the center of the target, Madara stood. He moved to his desk, clearing the space with deliberate efficiency. From a drawer, he retrieved ink and a large sheet of paper. Tonight, he would conduct an experiment. But preparation was key. Madara donned his armor, placed several daggers within reach, and locked every entrance to the room. Satisfied, he began to draw.
He intended to create a fish. Madara took the warning of the spell seriously—creating life was dangerous, and he was not one to underestimate such risks. A fish, weak and harmless on land, seemed a safe starting point. With steady strokes, he brought the creature to life on paper, each line meticulously crafted. Minutes passed, and the drawing began to resemble a fish. Setting the brush aside, he placed one hand on a dagger and breathed life into the image.
The drawing bulged, then detached from the paper, materializing as a simple fish flopping on the table, gasping for air. Just as Madara began to think the experiment was a success, the fish began to transform. Its belly split open, and several long, grotesque claws erupted from within, accompanied by a spray of foul slime. The creature was no longer a fish but a nightmare given form.
Madara had no intention of allowing the abomination to reach its full potential. He struck at it with his dagger, but the blade bounced off its hardened scales. The monster grew unevenly, bony protrusions sprouting from its body as its pitch-black eyes snapped open. Madara acted swiftly. Raising his hands, he unleashed a torrent of lightning that arced toward the abomination. The creature roared and lunged at him, but Madara was faster. Dodging with ease, he pulled an explosive tag from his pocket and hurled it at the monster.
The explosion rocked the room.
[You have slain the Nightmare Spawn.]
Madara raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Normally, the spell would reveal the rank and stage of the monster, but this time, it did not. Approaching the mangled corpse, he watched as it dissolved into ink, leaving behind only deep scratches on the table and splatters of black liquid across the room. Now, he had to explain this mess to the staff.
---
Madara stood among a crowd of teenagers in a grand, illuminated hall. They buzzed with excitement over the upcoming initiation ceremony. The previous one had been canceled due to unforeseen circumstances, so this gathering was larger than usual. Madara observed the newcomers with a calculating gaze, noting the divisions among them.
There were three distinct groups. The first consisted of ordinary teenagers, chatting in clusters. The second was made up of clan heirs or servants, standing apart with an air of arrogance. Madara sneered inwardly. Prideful, yes, but he knew how quickly that pride crumbled under pressure. Not all, but most would reveal their cowardice when faced with true danger. The third group was the doomed—those with useless abilities or crippling flaws. They stood in a distant corner, their faces grim. They were already dead, walking into the Nightmare with no hope of survival.
After what felt like an eternity, a towering man, bear-like in stature, took the stage. His gaze swept the room, lingering on each face before he spoke.
"I am Awakened Stone. Sleepers, welcome to the Academy."
Madara listened intently, though his mind was already racing ahead.
"In six months, you will all enter the Realm of Dreams. There, you will decide your own fate. You have two choices: die or survive. I have seen many like you perish. Even masters and saints have fallen there. We, the staff of the Academy, will prepare you as best we can. But remember, survival there and life here are two different things. In the Realm of Dreams, no one will help you. Your life is your responsibility."
Fear flickered in the eyes of the teenagers, even the clan heirs, though they tried to hide it. Madara saw it all, his expression unreadable.
"I regret to say this, but you are no longer children. It is time to take responsibility and prepare to face your destiny. But know this: we will guide you in this dark world."
The crowd murmured, but the man continued.
"Now, let me explain the difference between Nightmares and the Realm of Dreams."
Madara's interest piqued.
"Most of you know what Nightmares are, as you have all experienced them. But few understand the Realm of Dreams. Let me clarify. Nightmares are individual trials, while the Realm of Dreams is another world—one that has been studied, but not fully understood. In Nightmares, you face predetermined events. In the Realm of Dreams, there are no such guarantees. You will be sent to one of seven known regions: the Bastion, the Hollow Mountains, the Chain Islands, Revenhart, or the Desert of Nightmares. Your goal is to reach the nearest gate and escape, becoming Awakened. Each year, we learn more about the Realm, and mortality rates decrease. But death is still a reality."
The man continued, speaking of the duty of the Awakened to close Nightmare Seeds and prevent them from spilling into the real world. Madara listened half-heartedly, comparing the information to what he had read in books. There were no discrepancies, but the man's words confirmed Madara's suspicions. The Realm of Dreams was far more dangerous than the books suggested.
Madara's mind wandered. Seven ranks, seven demons, seven regions—it was logical. But what of the seventh god? The man had mentioned six, but Madara was certain there was a seventh. Where had it gone? And what had happened to the gods themselves? The ruins of ancient cities hinted at a lost civilization, but no trace of intelligent life remained. Madara was determined to uncover the truth.
As the ceremony concluded, Madara's thoughts were interrupted by the dispersing crowd. He lingered, his mind already plotting his next move. Power was his goal, and he would stop at nothing to reclaim it.