No dreams this time. Poison seemed to be the correct mental block to thwart the acid-trip like attacks of Claude's imaginative psyche.

He was out. Alone on a far away island. At the mercy of the wild that lately had seemed so keen on taking him out.

Religious zealot fish-men.

Goblin hordes powered by enslaved bugbears. Nearby hexblades on the hunt for the chosen of Anubis.

The island gauntlet was hell.

One that he couldn't escape even in the black expanse of tranquilized sleep. Because if he didn't die, her voice would come. It would come like the thunders from a storm fueled by clouds of hate and the heat of evil rage. It would come only after he'd broken into a sweat, thrashing and pulling at his own sheets. She'd say what she always said…..

***

Friday Morning July 23rd, 2240 ATE. Glorian Island's/ Arctic Archipelago.

"You are strong. So very….. strong."

That wasn't right.

Claude's eyes weakly opened. He could feel the thin veil of crust from sand, sweat and tears crack apart as his long eyelashes parted for the first time in too long.

He expected sunlight— he expected war, madness, death. But all he was met with was shade. The smells of berries, lavender and mint— all given a cold salty afterscent from the surrounding ocean. It was in low tide. Farther away, allowing the sounds of nearby students to be easily heard.

They were laughing. He hadn't heard that in what felt like years.

And he hadn't seen what he was looking at ever.

She was around his age. Maybe a year or two older. Her skin was the color of milk chocolate— a smooth, spotless brown full of moisture and sun-kissed with life. Two golden loops dangled from her ears, glimmering like captured hollow eclipses. The jewel on the left side of her nose stood like a solitary star between them.

It represented her well.

Within the two eclipsing extremes of the island gauntlet— all out war and the weirdly heavenly peace, she stood alone…. In between. Above him, like some angelic presence.

Her words echoed.

"You are strong."

"Am I….. am I dreaming?" Claude could smell his own magnified morning breath. Hints of blood lingered.

She didn't seem to notice. That crazy alive look remained in her hazel eyes. Somehow shining brighter than her skin and jewels. Somehow more intense than her tied up mane of frizzy gold and red highlighted dreadlocks.

"I would hope not. You do not seem to like those. You snarl like the dune-reapers in your sleep. When you close your eyes what do you see?" Her accent was so thick he almost didn't understand her English. Whatever her native language was, it was masculine. All hard vowels and choppy pronunciations. Curt and stony like military jargon.

"What day is it?"

"Hm….." She seemed just as unaware as he was. Her head flicked upward, "Aye, Isaac!"

"Yo!"

"What is today called?"

"Friday, if Marion has been marking the days correctly." Assumedly Isaac, replied in the distance.

But Claude almost didn't hear it as he watched shadowed beads of sweat roll down her defined neck. They stumbled over the summit that was her collarbone before diving down into her barely wrapped chest portion.

She was practically nak—

"Yes, it is Friday."

"It's been two days…" Claude realized after forcibly looking away.

"That is good. Most students who consume things tainted by the Violet Scourge are out for six days. I suppose a faster recovery is fitting for you." She said with a knowing smile. It was a nice smile.

"Wait— why is that fitting for me?" Claude thought as he began to sit up.

Instead of backing away to let him, the young woman sat up with him, causing her to be seated on his lap with her knees at his sides.

They stood nearly nose to nose.

"Uhhh…."

She giggled, "You are different from your sleeping self."

He stammered.

"Naz get off him, man!"

She giggled again, "Ok, fine."

As she stood over him, she bent down with her hands held out. Her long fingernails were painted like the night sky. Circlets wrapped every other finger and held what looked like seeds.

He took her help and got to his feet.

"You are more heavy than you look." She looked him up and down once before nodding as if that satisfied her.

Another first.

Claude's eyes followed the movement around him, causing him to look away from the new girl.

There had to be at least thirty students just on the one island. It felt like the last island of them all. Swaying blue ocean expanded endlessly to his right topped by Tangents. To the left, half naked students played and trained on beaches and in jungles atop flowering hills, others worked on skinning pelts and crafting benches made of wild woods. It looked like a hero's in training oasis under the clear blue skies.

It almost made him forget. No that wasn't right, he'd never forget.

"Someone's onto me. A hex-blade knows Anubis watches one of the new students and they're using the monsters on the island to find out who. Did they make the poison too? They'd have to be experienced with natural poisons and student locations to have it last this long. Nature element user hex-blade? Alchemist? Witch? Do they know about Lycaon and Cerberus? Are they even dark gods? I'm so gods damned confused, man… terrible word choice."

"Salam, my name is Naz." She held onto his hand.

"Salam…?"

Naz giggled again. "I think in your language, it's hello." Her pronunciation made it sound like "hah-lo."

"Oh— right, hey…. My name is Claude Grey."

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"I know." She nodded, "I brought you here after all."

"Where is… here?" Claude looked around again, she was still holding his hand.

"This is End-Island."

Claude looked back to the ocean that seemingly went on forever, "Right."

When he looked back to her she was chest to chest with him, smelling his neck.

"Your wounds are not as bad as they should be….. but you smell of working man."

"She means you stink, bro." One of the kids working the pelts yelled back to him.

Claude cringed.

"Let us bathe."

"You— did you say us?"

Naz whistled to the crafters across the beach.

"On it!" Someone yelled back.

Seconds later and she was reaching up to catch a thrown block of soap.

They made soap.

They had everything. No wonder he didn't see them at the supply drop, they didn't need it.

"Come." She took him by hand to the ocean.

As they got closer, his very early onset ptsd had him pulling away to avoid the attack range of the unseen fish-men and beasts of the deep. He pulled Naz with him to save her.

"We can't just go in there, Naz. There's monsters— they want us to go in ther— they're waiting. I hurt the shark— defiled it." Claude's breaths elevated. He was dead at the ocean floor again being crushed by the pressure with every blink.

Naz looked back at him in confusion. Then, she put the bar of lavender soap in her mouth to free her hand and dug into the massive stitched leather pouch at her hip. Less than a minute later she pulled out a handful of pellets.

"We have tamed the oceans already, Claude of the Grey's."

It was then that he noticed even more students at sea. Water element users, surfing the waves at their growing command. Fighting against one another like Poseidon's children descended.

"Fish-men gills are strong. Of course they're extremely susceptible to water based repellants….." Claude thought in disbelief.

"And glacial-eel skin is very absorbent." Naz added with a wink. Then, she was back to dragging him into the waters. If only with a little effort.

Ten minutes passed in a blur of new experiences and things he couldn't even properly label.

He sat in the shallow shores of the beach. Frothy ice-cold waters ran up to his stomach. Naz ran her soapy hands over his wounds as she took a knee behind him.

"You know, I can wash myself…" Claude held himself in discomfort. And lacking warmth.

"I need to watch you. I say this is less awkward for you, shy-boy." Naz replied.

Claude thought on it for a moment, "Actually, you might be right." The mental image of her standing in front of him, giggling and smirking while he bathed almost made him faint.

"So… where are you from?"

"The Levant." Naz replied.

"Woah— what are you doing out here in the west?" Claude replied.

"Hehe…. Getting my education." Naz replied innocently.

"The Levant doesn't have Rebirth-Institutions?" Claude knew it did. The Levant was the second strongest nation right behind The Sunlands. Home to King-Breaker.

"It does." Naz didn't seem interested in expanding on her past. It reminded him of his father and oddly made him feel at home.

Her hands ran over his chest where a blunt force skin wound scabbed over. His cheeks warmed.

"You have been at war. Tell me what happens out there." Naz said.

"The fish-men see sharks as their god— goblins are enslaving bugbears…. There's a hex-blade that's playing as a hobgoblin— but they're stupid because they don't speak. And Samuel and Tai are tyrants and Ursula said there are no heroes— and….." He stopped himself, "It's uh…. It's not what I expected."

Naz giggled, "My father says it never is. I say no. Everything is what we expect, if we look with the right eyes."

"You talk like an adult, Naz." Claude replied.

"Only if we measure adulthood by something other than age." Naz replied.

He looked back at her just as she looked back to a student with a bundle of gear.

"Thank you, Marion."

"Of course. Welcome to the ends, new guy." Marion had a head of thick messy curls and skin as dark as obsidian. He was lanky like an archer but had obvious scarring over his knuckles and elbows. He took off in a series of explosive skips.

"Everyone here a first-waver?" Claude asked.

"No. Waves mean nothing, fifth-waver." Naz ran handfuls of water over his skin a final time before getting up and walking to the beach. He watched her go before she looked back for him to follow. Her back was toned to hell. Even more than his own. But still somehow lithe and fluid. Almost snake-like. She walked like the water, all swishing and swaying in her baggy leather pants and bra of rags.

Then, he was standing on the beach, getting dressed in a pair of hemp and leather trousers, a cloak of vines and a fur lined top.

He looked like the others, minus the face paint and cool hair. Maybe a few extra layers.

"Who made all this?" Claude asked.

Naz reached out to him and touched his cloak, turning it black. "Me."

"Cool…" His more mission oriented brain turned back on for seemingly the first time in hours, "Naz, thank you for all the help. You saved my life— I don't know how to repay you, but I have to go get my friends. Ursula and Finn could be hurt from the goblin attack and Tai won't do anything more than the bare minimum if that. Plus, Samuel enslaved my class. I have to help them too."

Naz smiled at him, "The tyrants and the liberator. You think you're ready?"

"Alwa—UGH!" Naz moved like lightning. She could've kicked him or knocked the wind straight out of him to prove a point. But all she did was drive her fingers into his ribs. The pain was raw— fiery. Reminding him that he was stomped and beaten by goblins before escaping a tunnel fire and then being beaten and almost killed by fish-men…..

Before ultimately being poisoned.

He'd only just begun to realize how injured he was.

His feet hurt. The cuts and bruises along his back groaned. His shoulder sat with a hideous ache. He was tired just from walking.

"Damn…"

"I am no prison-guard, liberator. I am Naz, The Free. If you wish to leave and release your allies from captivity then go, but first you should be ready. Respect your enemies and bring them strength." Her hand gripped the back of his neck hard. Her lips brushed against his cleft ear.

She backed away then and looked at the remaining gear on the ground before kicking it in Claude's direction.

His reflexes led to him catching the object.

Nothing more than a sword handle. Then she winked and walked away.

Marion ran passed her, giving her a high five along with another student as they approached Claude.

They were like Samuel and Tai. Physical extremes visible even beneath the sleeveless tops and shorts.

Marion was tall, lanky and uniquely pretty. To the point that he was probably scary at certain angles. His cheekbones were high, his eyebrows were arched and slitted, and he had tattoos running down both arms. Claude only realized under direct sunlight.

Beside him, a much shorter and stockier student walked with him. He was built like Ursula. Muscle-bound and beefy. He wasn't as dark-skinned as Marion— more Warren's tone, with corn-rows running down to his shoulders.

"I didn't think you'd be walking so soon." Marion said as they came to a stop in front of him.

"Good for me either way, I'm tired of chasing down hogs."

"No you aren't."

"No I'm not."

The two looked at eachother and laughed before looking back to Claude.

"So, new guy, we train the new people in the ends. As you know, I'm Marion Jones— do not call me MJ, this is Isaac Aslan. You can call him Ia, though." Marion joked.

Isaac puffed out his chest, "Yea, you can. I'm secure in my masculinity."

"Not with them triple d's." Marion whispered to Claude before Isaac shoved him.

"Cmon, man!"

Claude stared at Isaac.

"What? I like bench-pressing."

"You….. you're the Isaac Aslan? As in son of The Lion? Hero of The Sunlands?"

Isaac looked at Marion, "I didn't think westerners knew about me. I'm famous."

"Nah. Naz said he's really smart. He's also one of like four people here to recognize you." Marion replied.

Isaac shrugged, "Either way, yea that's me."

"What are you doing out here?" He'd already asked that question too many times. And he only just remembered Isaac was pretty high on the leaderboard. There was performance behind the fame….. and muscle.

"My mom is taking the Aslan title and expanding. So we moved out here. Free real estate or whatever."

"Right…" Claude nodded vaguely.

"Anyway, you ready? I haven't got a good workout in…. In weeks. At least not since that Kobold Tangent-Break on Dry-Island."

"Ready for what? Training? I don't even know what this is." Claude said aloud as he looked at his plain sword handle.

Marion and Isaac pulled a pair of their own off their twine and leather belts.

"This is what they give us for weapons. They're called construct-blades. You can't see it, but that is a sword with a blade made of a substance called MS Glass."

"NOT msg." Marion added.

"Shut up." Isaac said, "It means, mana-sensitive. Infuse the glass with your mana and it will fortify into the weapon it's supposed to be. Once you get good enough, you can shape it. The material is extremely malleable and reactive. It all depends on you. Check it out."

Isaac held his black sword handle out. Fiery red energy poured out of his hands and burst from the sword handle. It filled the barely visible glass casing like a volatile liquid before twisting and sparking into the shape of a glowing red metal sickle. Then a broadsword. Then a cutlass. With the handle in his other hand he brandished a shield coated in a ring of fire. All semi-transparent red metal.

Claude audibly swallowed.

Marion smiled as if excited by the challenge of skill and spawned his own pair of dark purple mini-scythes.

"Well, don't leave us waiting, Mr. First-place." Marion hopped on his quick feet.

The realization suddenly hit Claude like a battering ram.

"The goblins….. the fire I caused. I must've killed over a dozen…. Two dozen… I'm in first-place…."

They weren't coming to train him. They wanted him to train and spar them….. so they could have a challenge for once. Just like Marion said. They knew he was first place because Naz knew his name…..

And Naz let them believe he was stronger than he was— in part because he healed faster than the others, and also because it would challenge him.

"The recipe for rebirth is ultimately the recipe for growth, post-rebirth. Naz, I get how Ursula feels when she calls me insane now."

With shaking hands, Claude empowered his construct-blade and faced off against a Sunlandian prince and sickle wielding assassin.