Kallen of House Night yawned as he held his pencil in his hand, twirling it absentmindedly. He felt his eyes slowly close, and his head slipped from its spot in his palm. The loud smack of his forehead hitting the desk snapped him back awake. Several students all looked at him quizzically, but he took several hard blinks, ignoring them best he could. It was easy, he couldn't focus on anything. 

All day, Kallen had felt the unnatural need to simply lie down and fall asleep. He’d had an important calculus exam that day—it was nothing more than pre-test jitters he had figured. It wasn’t until he stared at the integral in front of him, reading it over and over again, had he realized what was actually happening. What was about to happen.

I need to get out of here… he thought, mind hazy. It’d been a split-second realization, and one that came with a second of doubt. But ultimately, instinct took over.

His chair clattered to the ground, and panic rose from his chest to his forehead as the idea that he might die settled in a pit inside his stomach. He’d been a generation removed from the spell… he was going to be an engineer when he grew up… he wasn’t supposed to fight. Kallen wasn’t a fighter.

The teacher in front of the room drew his brows in anger. “Kallenir, what are you—”

Kallen didn’t hear what the rest of Professor Guile was saying as he hurried out of the room, throwing the door open. It slammed into the wall behind him, but he was already a dozen steps removed from the classroom.

Kallen sprinted through the halls in search of the nearest vending machine. He flew around the corner, leaping down several stairs at a time and using the railing as an anchor to propel himself faster.

I need to get out of here!

He’d been stupid not to realize it sooner. The description of what it felt like to be infected was something even young children knew at heart… he’d been stupid. He was thankful he had caught himself reading the question over and over again, instead of just nodding off again.

A vending machine came into Kallen’s view. He skidded to a stop, hurriedly slamming his phone to the payment screen.

A popular brand of energy drink was his target. It's label ranged from beast and monster, all the way up to titan. Kallen had always thought it was a tad tasteless to name a line of beverages after nightmare creature classes—given that the beasts had killed so many people and whatnot. Nevertheless, he punched in the number for the titan drink—though he preferred monster usually—because of the titan’s high caffeine content.

He watched as the drink was picked up by the robotic arm and placed into a cylinder, which retracted with a ding. Kallen snatched it and darted off to the nearest awakened instructor, downing the carbonated liquid with as much haste as possible.

Buying the drink had been a slight gamble, but he assumed the drink would do more to keep him awake than it would cost him.

Kallen then burst through the double doors of a gymnasium/training facility. The school he went to could have been considered elite—but it was more academically-focused than anything. While it had awakened instructors, they weren’t exactly top of the line.

Still, it was better than nothing.

“Awakened Danerey…” Kallen huffed, skidding to a stop, feeling his tiredness overpowering the nearly thousand milligrams of caffeine in his system. He was supposed to have longer to prepare than this. It didn't make sense.

“Third… directive… nightmare…”

His instructor paled. He shouted various things to the students who had all stopped what they were doing, and were now looking at Kallen, eyes wide and panicked.

Without hearing a word, the last thing Kallen saw was the evacuation of the gymnasium; the last thing he thought about were his parents, his little sisters before he blacked out.

In the darkness, a disembodied voice spoke out: 

[Aspirant! Welcome to the Nightmare Spell. Prepare for your First Trial…]

~~~

Kallen dreamed of the ruins of a desolate castle. 

The colossal keep seemed shattered by an unknown force, its stone toppled and even the moss decrepit and withered. The ruins were situated just next to a mass of water, so large that he couldn't see its end.

Then time rewound. Instantly, the decimated castle was rebuilt, snow and rain flowed upwards and seasons passed in the blink of an eye. Kallen didn’t catch sight of the being that had laid waste to everything, but he suspected he was going to soon.

Years passed by in the blink of an eye. Then, time slowed, stopped, and resumed its usual pace.

[Aspirant! Welcome to the Nightmare Spell. Prepare for your First Trial…]

The cold touch of stone graced his knees. Kallen’s eyes shot open and the first thing he saw was a wall of metal bars blocking him from a narrow corridor.

A slight itch came from his nose, and when he moved to scratch it, he found his wrists bound, chained to each side of the small cell. A groan came from him as he yanked on the shackles with both arms. 

No use.

He had been expecting a little more agency in his first nightmare. Typically, aspirants were given access to a lot more than... well nothing.

The itch persisted.

Kallen scrunched his nose every which way, but nothing worked. He shook against the chains. A growl escaped him and he shook once more, finally letting his shoulders sag when he realized they wouldn't budge.

I probably need to get out of here before this castle comes crumbling down, huh?

He had only just glanced at his runes when a voice called out: “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Kallen’s immediate thought was that the random person was referring to him checking his runes. But that wasn’t possible… he’d been referring to fighting against the chains.

Kallen glanced around, but it was dark and he couldn’t see much. Who had spoken?

“And by that you mean… what exactly?”

A man bent over, pressing his forehead against the bars of his cell from the other side. He was quite ugly, a nasty scar deforming the left side of his face, rendering certain parts of his scalp unable to grow hair. “Quit struggling. He needs you in good condition, obviously.”

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Good condition? Kallen had never felt worse. He was missing a shirt, his pants were tattered and pocked with splotched, dried patches of blood. It was cold.

“How did I get here?”

The man cocked his head, a brow rose. He gave an odd look but didn’t say much, only mumbling something under his breath.

“Not big on answering questions?” Kallen asked, the words slipping from his mouth before he could stop himself. It’d been a momentary lapse in judgment… he’d acted on impulse.

His jailor—presumably—pulled a pair of keys from his pocket, they jingled around as he tried the lock. When it opened, Kallen earned a fist to the stomach for his remark.

A certain strength filled him as pain pulsed from his abdomen.

The man shook his hand, leaving the prisoner coughing in his cell, unable to cradle the bruise that would form. “In my experience, the talkative ones always die quickest.” The man began to walk away, but he threw a look over his shoulder. “Your execution has just been expedited.”

Kallen let out a ragged breath, pain flaring in his midsection. He could just see his black hair dangling in front of his eyes, his shoulders rose and fell in an unsteady rhythm. It’d be a lot better, he reasoned, if his hands weren’t bound to the sides of the walls, it left his shoulder blades in an uncomfortable position. 

“Execution?” He asked.

“I was told you were conscious when you were captured…” the man turned around completely, eyes curious. “You really are clueless?”

“As clueless as you are hard to look at.” Kallen took the blow across the chin, his mind momentarily leaving him. Ugly-the-jailor jerked him up by the hair and another punch landed on his mouth. Kallen smiled at the man, when he recovered himself, blood trickling down his split lip. “You’re rather quick to anger... Mr..."

Expecting the man to at least give him a name, Kallen trailed off, but ugly didn't say anything.

"Well then... how about ugly? Mind if I call you that?"

Another fist struck him, and his head snapped back. More blood fell, this time from a broken nose. A wonderfully masochistic idea formed in his head as he felt his muscles rejoice by virtue of the pain radiating so incessantly. He recalled the description of the one attribute he’d had time to read: [Revenge].

"I'll just call you ugly in my head, then." The man punched him. His blood splattered on the side wall of the cell. "... and maybe... behind your back."

Ugly struck him once more.

“You know—”

The jailor punched him again. And again. And again. Kallen sagged, his shoulders and face groaning in protest. He probably needed to keep his mouth shut before the man in front of him made sure it stayed permanently closed. But he couldn't stop now.

“You know…” he choked out. 

The jailor raised his fist.

Kallen opened his hands as if to placate the man. “If you’ll let me talk…” he gave a bloody smile. “You know, instead of executing me… why don’t you just let me go?” He tried to shrug, but it looked more like a turtle trying to retract its head into its shell.

Ugly tightened his fist, leaning in. “And why would I do that?”

“Is my winning personality not motivation enough?”

Expecting another blow, Kallen closed his eyes and clenched his jaw in preparation, but the punch never came. The jailor had frozen, his fist still clenched and hovering in the air. Then, he let out a laugh—a dry, humorless sound that bounced off the walls of the dark corridor. It didn’t last long. His grin twisted into something sharper, more menacing, and he leaned closer.

“Are you stupid?” The man asked, his breath hot against the cold chill of the dungeon. “Or is this some desperate ploy?”

Kallen blinked at him. “A little bit of both, I’d say. Ah, however, I would prefer if you called it… ah… creative problem-solving.” He nodded. “Yes, desperation doesn’t quite fit the image of arrogant and sarcastic and attractive prisoner who definitely and totally doesn’t have a plan to—”

Another strike hit him. Kallen's already broken nose leaked puddles of blood, his head was dangling. He shut his eyelids tighter, trying to force the pain away. “You should be nicer…you won't... make any friends like this...” 

Ugly studied him. It was as if he were some sort of puzzle the man just couldn’t figure out. He shook his head slowly. “You should be more afraid to die.”

Kallen looked up, trying his best to appear nonchalant, despite the ceaseless throbbing. “Ah, of course I am. I’m terrified. You, my friend… judging by your clothes, you don’t seem like the type to get his hands bloody, though.” He glanced at the man’s knuckles. “Well, bloodier.”

“You’re going to wish you kept that mouth shut.”

“What are you going to do?” Kallen laughed, his vocal cords straining from the lack of water. “I get the sense that your boss—whoever he is—wouldn’t appreciate you roughing me up too much more than this. Remember the whole 'good condition' thing?”

It was a guess on Kallen’s part, but the man froze, his expression darkening. It told him he’d struck true with his prediction. That was good. If he could goad the man into hitting him more, then maybe [Revenge] would power him up enough to—

“You’ve got a clever mouth, huh?” The jailor growled, grabbing him by the jaw and forcing him to look up. “You have your fun… you have your fun, but I swear that you’ll regret being born. You don’t get to walk your way out of this one.”

Kallen tried to pull away, but the man’s grip was stone. “I mean…" his voice came out muffled, "could you at least let me try? I'm pretty good at walking... if I do say so myself.”

Ugly's murderous gleam deepened, but he let go and shoved, barely restraining himself.

"Back in middle school..." Kallen coughed. "I actually won the superlative for best walker in my—"

"Enough!" Ugly shouted, his boot driving into Kallen's stomach. He coughed more as the man spun on his heels, shaking his head and barking orders to someone off in the distance.

As he ascended the stairs down the long hallway, two guards turned to face Kallen’s cell which sat opposite to the staircase. They were both adorned in full plate, spears decorating their hands.

The guards approached him, one speaking up. "You sure look like shit."

"I do," Kallen agreed. "But you should have seen the other guy. Not that he's injured or anything... he's just not exactly pleasant to look at if you get what I mean."

The guard who had spoken actually gave a slight chuckle, before his partner looked at him, likely glaring from under his helmet.

"Angry-guard and guard-who-appreciates-good-humor, where exactly is my execution being held? I'd perfer to keep my head if at all possible."

Angry-guard took a step into the cell. Kallen tried to resist as he unshackled him, but the man jammed the butt of his spear into his stomach.

I've changed my mind, he thought, his head pounding. You're dickhead-guard... regardless… That should be enough. He willed his runes to appear as the two spearmen led him out of the cell and up the staircase.

Name: Kallenir

True Name: None

Rank: Aspirant

Soul Core: Dormant

Attributes: [Revenge], [Voice of the Sea], [Amplifier]

Quickly, he scanned the description of his attributes.

[Revenge] Attribute Description: “With every drop spilled, a storm brews within you. Pain becomes power. Wounds are but the herald of your vengeance.”

[Voice of the Sea] Attribute Description: “Your voice ebbs and flows with the resonance of the tides, a melody born of deep currents. The denizens of the depths feel its pull, drawn to your call. Beware, however, for the sea listens as intently as it speaks.

Interesting. He had read the description of [Revenge] earlier… it was why he had been such an ass to the jailor—not that he didn’t enjoy it. Even without the attribute incentivising him, he probably couldn’t have helped himself from one or two insults. It was just his winning personality.

Thankfully, though, [Revenge] had made things less and less painful with each subsequent strike. Relatively speaking. Of course, it still hurt like hell. The throbbing of his decimated nose was nothing to scoff at, and there was surely a few internal organs roughed up and all. But he reasoned it was worth it.

With that, he read the description of the last attribute.

[Amplifier] Attribute Description: “You are the resonance in the void, a force that turns whispers to screams. Sparks to bolts.”

Hmm, Kallen thought to himself. Dickhead guard shoved him from behind, but he kept his eyes on the runes even as he stumbled forward. [Voice of the Sea] pretty obviously meant he could talk to fish. And the other ‘denizens’ of the sea of course. But the whole ‘beware’ bit left him more than a tad reluctant to go strike up a conversation with the nearest ocean.

And this [Amplifier] attribute… it almost seemed as though he could wield sound to a certain degree… but he couldn’t be sure.

Nevertheless, he kept reading. Since he was just a sleeper, he wouldn’t receive any aspect abilities, only his attributes, but it didn’t hurt to at least check. 

Aspect: [Sea King]

[Sea King] Aspect Description: “You reign in the deep, ruling over all that lies beneath the waves. The seas recognize your authority, their currents bending to your will, their creatures heeding your call. You are one with the tides, a force of nature, a lord without equal in the treacherous depths.”

He stared blankly at the runes.

He was to be a scion of House Night, so a water-related aspect was nothing out of the ordinary. He’d expected as such. But this seemed…

Does the spell not know I’m a branch member? Kallen of House Night was actually more like Kallen of the Black Water clan. He was a vassal. He suspected, however, if he made it out alive, that his status as a vassal might just change.

If I make it out.