Sunless was acutely aware that time was slipping away. Less than a month remained to prepare for what awaited him on the Forgotten Shore. His memories of the tale were fragmented, full of gaps and inconsistencies, yet one thing was undeniably clear: the winter solstice loomed above him like the sword of Damocles, an inevitable reckoning he could not escape. No matter how hard he tried to ready himself, he knew in his bones that he would not be prepared when it finally claimed him.
Although [Trinity] had enhanced his body and mind to such a degree that he could experience the full span of 24 hours in a single day, physical exertion still exacted its toll. The strain on his body, though reduced compared to that of other Sleepers, was still a reality he couldn't escape. Every battle, every training session, left him feeling the burn, reminding him that no enhancement could completely shield him from the cost of his own limitations.
Fortunately, his instructors were well aware of his struggles, and they bore the weight of preparing hundreds of teens for the unforgiving challenges of the Dream Realm. Their teaching methods were tailored to account for the realities of this brutal world, and they adjusted their approach to make sure no one was left behind.
Instructor Rock was a master of optimization, seamlessly blending both quantity and quality in his approach to training. His method ensured that his students received exactly what they needed to survive—and then some. The makeup of the three distinct groups under his guidance was carefully crafted, a surprise given the man's savage appearance. Sunless had the privilege of gaining a deeper understanding of these deceptively simple categories: novice, intermediary, and expert. These groups weren't just labels; they were strategically designed to cultivate self-sufficiency and endurance to varying degrees. The experts, of course, were there to demonstrate and refine the deadly skills they had honed over years of survival. The intermediary group, while still formidable, required more hands-on experience, and their training largely focused on fighting alongside each other in various formations, testing their teamwork and adaptability. Finally, there were the novices, who lacked both the theoretical knowledge and physical prowess necessary to thrive in such a harsh environment. They were the ones who received the lion's share of Rock's attention, as he meticulously drilled them on every fundamental skill they would need to survive.
Sunless was the only one who seemed not to fully belong to any of these categories. His physical prowess, which belied his malnourished appearance, combined with Sunny's sharp instincts, made him far more capable than most of the novices. Yet, despite his impressive abilities, he still lacked the deeper, more refined knowledge required to handle weapons like a sword or spear, let alone the hand-eye coordination necessary to fight in sync with the intermediary group. In the end, Sunless found himself returning to the basics of swordsmanship—an awkward, yet necessary, foundation. This training was provided by Instructor Rock, who, despite his gruff exterior, was patient with Sunless's progress. It wasn't the most glamorous of training regimens, but Sunless didn't mind too much. In fact, it gave him the rare opportunity to observe and learn from the shadows of the more advanced Sleepers, without drawing attention to himself. He could study their movements, their tactics, and their interactions, absorbing more than he ever could have by simply being thrust into the thick of the fight.
It was a small consolation, perhaps, but it was something—an edge he could use when the time came. And as the winter solstice approached with relentless certainty, that small edge might just be enough to tilt the balance in his favor.
'*'
After the class ended, Sunny lingered behind, his mind focused as he worked through the various forms he had carefully observed earlier. He still had an hour before his lunch with Cassie, but right now, it felt as though every movement was just out of reach. Despite his best efforts, his swings were lackluster—slower and less precise than they should have been, as if the weight of the sword was dragging him down. Frustration simmered beneath the surface, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what was wrong.
"You need to spread your feet a little farther apart than that." The interruption was sudden, a bold and confident voice slicing through his concentration like a sword.
Sunny tensed, turning to find Caster—the second most advanced swordfighter in the class—approaching him with the effortless grace of someone who had spent years perfecting their craft. Caster stood tall, his posture impeccable, and the air around him seemed to carry the weight of his lineage. As the scion of a proud family of warriors, he moved with the ease of someone who was used to being at the top.
Caster's gaze flicked to Sunny's form with a sharp, calculating eye. "And keep your elbows in closer to your sides," he added, his voice firm and commanding. "Here, let me show you." Without waiting for permission, Caster moved swiftly, using his own feet to adjust Sunny's stance and reposition his elbows with practiced precision. His touch was almost clinical, as though he were refining an already near-perfect technique.
Sunny blinked, slightly taken aback by the uninvited help. He had expected the upperclassmen to leave him to his own devices, not come down to guide him. Maybe it was just out of the goodness of Caster's heart—or maybe, given Caster's reputation for being somewhat chivalrous, this was simply what he did. Either way, the attention felt strange.
"You'd think you'd have this down after your performance against Lady Changing Star," Caster remarked casually, almost as though he were talking about something trivial. "Did you perhaps use a different kind of weapon before?"
Sunny hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, I mostly used knives before."
Caster's lips curled into a slight smirk, clearly amused by the admission. "I thought as much. I can tell. You're not used to the weight distribution of a sword, are you? Knives are lighter, easier to maneuver, but the sword requires balance—control. It's not about swinging hard, it's about the subtlety." He took a small step back, eyeing Sunny's posture like a master examining a raw piece of material. "This stance should help you find that balance."
Sunny shifted uncomfortably, trying to digest the information. "I thought I could manage with the sword," he muttered, his voice laced with frustration. "But it's like… trying to Use something that's broken without knowing how it should function."
Caster chuckled softly, his tone rich with the kind of self-assurance only someone of his background could carry. "That's exactly it. The sword isn't a blunt instrument. It's an extension of you. It's about feeling the rhythm, the ebb and flow. You're trying to force it, and that's why you're struggling. You need to let the sword guide you, not the other way around."
Sunny looked up at Caster, his brow furrowing in confusion. "So, it's not just about how hard you swing it?"
Caster's smile deepened, his ego clearly shining through. "Of course not. That's the difference between a novice and someone who's trained for years. It's all about control, precision, and timing." He made a sweeping motion with his hand as though demonstrating something grand. "A sword isn't just a tool to destroy—it's a tool to command. You need to respect it, or it'll humble you quickly."
Sunny adjusted his stance again, still unsure. "I don't know… seems like a lot for just one weapon."
Caster's eyes glinted with the quiet confidence of someone who had never known failure in this regard. "It may seem that way, but a sword isn't just a weapon. It's a part of once way of living an art form ." His voice took on a slightly more serious edge, revealing a hint of pride in swordsmanship. "And when you've been trained like I have, Sunny, you start to realize that wielding a sword isn't about brute strength. It's about mind and muscle in perfect harmony."
Sunny's gaze flickered to Caster, a mixture of annoyance and wariness in his eyes. "I guess I've got a lot to learn, huh?"
Caster nodded, a smirk still playing at the corners of his mouth. "We all do. Even the greatest warriors have something new to learn with every swing. But don't worry, with the right instruction, you'll catch up quickly. You've got potential—just need to stop fighting the sword and start working with it."
There was a brief pause, the sound of their swords cutting through the air the only noise between them. Sunny let the words sink in, adjusting his stance one last time, trying to find the rhythm Caster spoke of. The conversation lulled into a comfortable silence, occasionally broken by Caster's corrections or a quip from Sunny. For all the differences between them, there was an unspoken understanding that passed between the two—an acknowledgment of each other's skill, even if unspoken.
During one of there breaks sunny performed a gesture Foren to Caster , he clapped his hand in a weird sequence than grasped it and pulled his close, and patted his back in a firm way.
" You know Casanova, you're pretty alright, brother." For sunny, who had slipped into the colloquialism from Aslans life, ''tis interaction was just a way to show his appreciation of casters help, but for Caster who didn't know the meaning, this held grater weight.
What neither of them knew was that their interaction had caught the attention of a group of girls, who had gathered at the edge of the training field. Their eyes sparkled with curiosity, cameras in hand, eagerly filming every moment of the exchange. They were particularly fascinated by the mysterious connection between the proud Legacy, Caster, and the enigmatic boy from the Outer Districts, Sunny. This footage would only feed the ever-growing culture of gossip, further fueling the rumors that swirled around them.
'*'
Sunny sat quietly, sipping on his coffee, doing his best to ignore the pointed, almost accusatory glare from Cassie's social worker. He couldn't help but wonder what he had done to deserve such scrutiny, but the thought passed quickly. He had more pressing things to think about.
At that moment, he was listening intently as Cassie regaled him with the latest gossip from their Nightmare Creature Biology class. The drama between two of the Sleepers had apparently reached new heights. Mai, it seemed, had been cheating with Ty Lee on her mundane boyfriend. Though he outwardly feigned indifference, Sunny couldn't help but be intrigued by the details—after all, who wouldn't be? But he'd never admit that out loud. He didn't care about their drama, not one bit. Still, he found the entire situation a fascinating little window into the lives of the Sleepers. These get-togethers with Cassie, where they could talk about whatever was on their minds, turned out to be more enjoyable than he'd expected. And they gave him the chance to keep tabs on potential allies in the Forgotten Shore, all while maintaining a careful distance—after all, getting too close could endanger his freedom.
But as much as the conversations often centered around the world of the Sleepers and their chaotic lives, it wasn't uncommon for them to stray toward more personal topics. And, much to his dismay, Sunny had let something slip during one of their talks. It wasn't anything major, nothing worth sharing with the world, but still, it felt like a vulnerability. Just little bits about his life, like the music he liked or the time he was arrested—nothing that truly mattered, but enough to make him wish he had kept it all locked away.
As their conversation meandered from topic to topic like a river flowing lazily through a forest, they found themselves discussing Nephis, the girl who had sent Sunny to the infirmary not too long ago. According to Cassie, Nephis was just as—if not more—antisocial and secretive than Sunny himself. That revelation made him feel oddly connected to her, despite their somewhat violent introduction.
'*'
Teacher Julius, who had become something of a mentor to Sunny, was a remarkable figure in every sense of the word. His ability to communicate complex ideas in such an accessible way was nothing short of mesmerizing. Sunny found himself absorbing every word. Teacher Julius didn't just teach; he breathed life into the subject matter, sharing his passion for the Dream Realm and all its intricacies. He genuinely cared about his students, Sunny included, and it showed in every lesson.
As they studied together, Sunny's world began to expand. The lessons ranged from the relatively simple—practical techniques like making fire with nothing but the elements—to the deeply esoteric, like the intricacies of celestial navigation. However, it was Julius' tendency to dive deep into each subject that really set him apart. It wasn't enough for Sunny to simply know the "what"; Julius made sure he understood the "why" behind everything. This approach gave Sunny not just knowledge but a deeper understanding of the Dream Realm and its laws, preparing him to face whatever challenges came his way.
Even the lessons in dead languages, which Sunny initially dreaded, turned out to be far more fascinating than he could have ever imagined. It helped that he already spoke three languages from his life in Europe, so understanding the nuances between them wasn't entirely foreign. But this wasn't just any language. It was the language of the runes—the ancient symbols that the Spell translated. The Spell didn't communicate directly with humans; it translated these cryptic runes into something they could understand, but sometimes the translations were flawed or inconsistent.
By studying the runes, Sunny was able to uncover a deeper layer of meaning within them. A perfect example of this was Nephis's True Name, "Changing Star." On the surface, the translation was correct, but it didn't capture the full essence of the name. By studying the rune language, Sunny realized that the more accurate translation would be "Star of Change." But the runes could mean even more, depending on which one was used—"Ruinous Star" or even "Star of Misfortune" were both valid translations, each carrying its own connotations. Such a subtle shift in meaning could change everything, and that understanding was invaluable.
Teacher Julius wasn't content with theory alone. He insisted on practical lessons, often using virtual reality simulations with full immersion stations to provide a more tactile learning experience. These lessons were exhausting—Sunny's muscles and joints often felt as if they might give out—but they were invaluable. His body was constantly under strain, yet he knew it was preparing him for whatever lay ahead.
Gloomy, his ever-present shadow, was far from idle during these times, using the cover of night to spy on the Sleepers. It was the perfect way to gather information without raising suspicion. Late-night training sessions or casual conversations were always prime opportunities to uncover new details about the world around him.
While Cassie—shockingly insightful for someone who was blind—kept him updated on the latest social goings-on, Sunny couldn't stop himself from craving more. Information was power, and from his past life in organized crime, he knew just how crucial it could be.
'*'
The Library of the Academy was a curious blend of the old and the new—an eclectic mix of ancient tomes and modern texts, spanning various subjects. The shelves were crammed with both leather-bound volumes and sleek digital terminals, offering access to an endless sea of knowledge at the touch of a button.
None of this, however, truly mattered to Nephis as she crept through the shadowy corridors of the building, her communicator casting a faint glow that illuminated her path. She had a mission that consumed her thoughts entirely—an important task ahead of her. At precisely 2:05 o'clock, Gale's new album would be released, a nod to Nightingale's first hit single. In just an hour and a half, she would be among the very first to listen to it, and nothing else seemed to hold her attention.
Normally, she would've simply downloaded the album onto her communicator, but alas, her device was already bursting at the seams with music. There simply wasn't enough space to accommodate it—at least, not without sacrificing her other songs, and that was an absolute no-go.
And so, under the cover of night, she snuck into the library, determined to access one of the terminals. As she made her way to the back of the room, her gaze was drawn to a single terminal that flickered to life, casting a pale light onto the small, slender figure sitting nearby. The figure was none other than the boy she had sent to the infirmary not long ago.
Nephis hesitated, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Should she apologize? No, that might come off as insulting or rude. Perhaps it would be better to ignore him—after all, that's what he had been doing to every other Sleeper. She stood there, lost in her thoughts, unaware that the boy was fully aware of her presence and had noticed her staring.
After a moment of indecision, Nephis plopped down into a seat a few rows away from him, her eyes fixed on the terminal before her. She booted it up and immediately ran into a wall of frustration. She struggled for what felt like an eternity—at least half an hour—trying to log into the school account that granted access to the terminals for the Sleepers. The reason it took so long? She couldn't remember the full code. It was a moment of pure panic, but she managed to get through it, thanks to an unexpected lifeline—the boy had told her the password.
Nephis, socially inexperienced as she was, just continued to wait in silence for the album to drop. As the minutes ticked by, her mind wandered, questioning the boy's presence. Why was he here at such an hour? Her first thought was that perhaps the old ghouls had sent him to eliminate her but she quickly dismissed the idea. After all, she had knocked him out with ease not long ago. So maybe he was doing some late-night homework? But no—she had never seen him attend any classes, aside from the combat one, and Instructor Rock never gave such menial tasks.
Her thoughts raced as she recalled snippets of gossip she'd overheard about him. Was he perhaps setting up a meeting with some dealers? But then why would he use a school terminal for such a thing? No, that didn't add up either. She racked her brain, until finally, one conclusion remained.
'he is fan of Nightingale, just like me!'
It made perfect sense. What other reason could there be for him to be awake at such an absurd hour? Nephis was elated. Finally, she had found someone who shared her dedication, someone who could appreciate the sheer brilliance of Nightingale's music. The only problem? Nephis was still far too shy to approach him, her words getting tangled in her head whenever she tried.
With a sigh, she gave up on the idea of interaction and simply enjoyed the album—twice, no less. An hour later, Sunny finished his task, assigned by Teacher Julius, and came to shut down the terminal that had been left on for far too long. For the first time, he noticed something rather peculiar—there, on the screen, was a pop singer's name he had never known of before.