As the days passed, Dawn dedicated every waking moment to refining his control over his aspect. Each morning, he would rise early, going through light exercises to prepare his body for what was to come. Then, without fail, he would retreat into his **soul sea**, experimenting with his flames, pushing his limits—learning.
Three weeks of **nonstop training** had come and gone.
Now, standing before his dying campfire, he finally gathered his belongings, the flickering embers casting one last glow across his face. He inhaled deeply, looking back as if to **preserve the memory** of the time spent here—the discoveries, the struggles, the victories.
His gaze shifted to his shoulder.
The gentle flame—his constant companion—watched him with an expression of quiet support.
Without words, they understood.
It was time.
For an hour, Dawn walked.
Mindlessly.
His thoughts drifted, yet his feet knew the path forward, carrying him toward **NQSC**.
Finally, he arrived.
With the same calculated movements he had used to cross the border before, he climbed the wall—but this time, it was **effortless**. His body had adjusted. His power had grown.
Only a few hours remained before the **solstice**.
As he looked to the sky, urgency flooded his veins.
He began to run.
The academy emerged on the horizon, and with every step, the clarity that had shielded his mind over the past three and a half weeks **shattered**.
Like a tidal wave, emotions crashed over him—the lingering **hope** of the people, the festering **hatred**, the suffocating **sorrow**.
His mind reeled.
It was overwhelming.
**Corrupting.**
For a brief moment, doubt clawed at his judgment.
But he stayed strong.
He had survived this before. He would **adapt**.
---
By the time he reached the academy gates, the weight of emotions pressing into him had **doubled**.
He exhaled sharply.
They were stronger here—raw, unfiltered, chaotic.
But he was stronger, too.
Ignoring the unease creeping through his spine, he strode forward, approaching the receptionist.
**"Where are the sleeping pods?"**
He didn't have time for orientation. The **dreamers** would be heading to the **Dream Realm** soon.
The receptionist nodded, offering brief directions. Dawn barely listened, already moving, **already knowing** where he needed to go.
---
Standing before the designated room, he inhaled deeply.
One final step.
He entered the pod.
A sharp sensation coursed through his body—magic activating, weaving through his soul.
Then, a voice echoed in his mind.
**"Welcome to the Dream Realm, Sleeper Dawning."**