Again, I wake to the sight of Blake sleeping peacefully by my side, and my heart skips a beat. I take in the warmth of her presence. I can feel the faint weight of her hand resting on my arm, grounding me, making everything real.
You have spent a peaceful evening, and your status has been fully restored!
[Bonus Effect] Full Night’s Rest: Increases your maximum HP and Aura by 20%.
Your Intelligence, Wisdom, and Dexterity have gained a temporary bonus of 5!
That’s… Wow, that’s amazing.
There are no words to describe how good I feel, like taking a bath for the first time after weeks of dragging myself through the mud. I guess I never really had a chance to slow down, never felt genuinely safe in this world. Or at least, not safe enough to stop looking over my shoulder, wondering if someone was going to kick down my door that night and shoot me in my sleep. There’s something unnerving about being the outsider, the wanderer, the unknown. Even when I try not to think about it, it’s hard not to notice how I keep getting dragged deeper into trouble, like sinking into a sandpit that pulls me down no matter which way I turn.
A part of me likes it, no matter how stupid it sounds. I genuinely enjoy the feeling of constantly being on my toes, even if it’s just feeling like my life matters, like something big is happening, and I’m at the center of it all.
But deep down, I’m scared.
I never imagined my life could be one wrong move from the edge, again and again. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m probably not the best fit for this job—whatever it is I’m supposed to do. It’s just too much. Logically, I can piece together everything that’s happened so far. My mind is cold and calculating, able to handle every moment and bit of information from the past few days like notes scrawled on the palm of my hand, analyzed and re-analyzed a thousand times over out of pure, desperate overthinking.
Theoretical: This situation is within my control and understanding. I can dissect everything I’ve seen and make an educated guess about where this is all leading.
Practical: I feel sick to my stomach. Each step I take is like stacking another brick on an endless wall, weighing down on my shoulders. For now, I can bear it by pretending my failure wouldn’t mean the end of this world and everyone in it. But if I let myself grasp that fully, even for a second, I’d likely break beneath it. I am no god, and the lives of millions shouldn’t rest on my scales.
Is it even right for me to spend time like this? Do I have the right to waste hours in happiness as long as my task isn’t done? If I fail, would these moments serve as a valid excuse?
I don’t have the answers to these questions. Instead, I wrap my arms around Blake and hold her close. The scent of her skin is all I need to quiet my demons, my thumb tracing her soft features as I hold her with all the care a weary soul can muster. My eyes drift to her lips, pink and plump, half-open in silent breath. Fighting the temptation, I press a gentle kiss to her cheek and pull us both back under the sheets, letting myself rest my head on her shoulder.
There’s no reason for me to doubt any path that’s brought me to her side, for it must be the right one.
I have the right to be scared; I’ll allow myself that much. But there will be no excuses. If I’m wise enough to fear the challenges ahead, then I’m wise enough to prepare myself for them. They will not find me unready or unprotected. I will live this second life I’ve claimed as a man should—I can’t promise anything more, or anything less.
Theoretical: I must not fail.
Practical: I will not fail.
❖
As we allow ourselves to pull back on out night patrols and relax for a bit, the days start passing by like gentle strangers. To say that crime in Vale just ended after out little encounter with Junior would be a gross overstatement, but it has dropped down enough to where I can convince her we don’t need to be running around the city every night, hunting down lowlife criminals and risking getting arrested. After all, the police has already cough a glimpse or two of our nightly activities, not even close to enough for them to try and guess who we are, but just the right amount to spark a wave of news about the secret heroes beating down the evil Faunus of the White Fang.
Ahhh… You gotta love news networks, they suck just the same on every world.
“Hey,” Blake whispers shily, pushing her wild hair out of her face, barely having gotten out of bed.
I stop taking care of breakfast for a moment and walk up to her, close enough to whisper in her ear. “Hey yourself. Are you going somewhere? Or is it getting hard to sleep without me?”
She rolls her eyes and smiles, placing a hand on my chest to push me away. “I just wanted to talk to you… My… The entrance exam to Beacon is tomorrow and…”
“Don’t tell me you’re nervous?” I chuckle, taking the eggs off the pan. “It’s an entrance exam. How hard can it be? I doubt they’re going to be throwing bombs at you.”
“No, I just… I am nervous! But… I was wondering if you wanted to come and… You know, watch? I know you have an invitation, so it’s not like you need to come with me or anything.”
She’s adorable.
“I’ll be there, but there’s something I need to take care of before Beacon actually starts. You think you can manage a day without me?”
Her eyes narrow, a pang of suspicion, a pang of longing. “Going to meet any twins I don’t know about?”
This time, I roll my eyes. “Nah, that’s what your semblance’s for.”
She almost takes a step back, eyes wide. “We’re not sleeping on the same bed tonight.”
We’ll see about that.
❖
Name: Vesper Bolt
Age: 17
Level: 10 (10%)
Race: Human
Aura: Unlocked
Stats:
Str: 20
Dex: 22
Con: 17
Int: 22
Wis: 15
Cha: 20
[New Objective] Complete the level 10 dungeon to proceed into the next phase!
Time Limit: 103h 52m 21s
I've been putting this off for a few days, focusing on my daily quests to scrape together a few extra points and items. The countdown makes it all feel a bit intimidating, and I want to make sure I'm as prepared as possible. On top of that, I've been leveling up my skills whenever I get the chance.
[Observe] Lvl 16 (2%)
Now even complex items reveal their information to me at a glance.
[Healing Potion] Restores 50 health upon use + 1% health for every minute spent without suffering damage during the next hour.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
My stats have also become clearer, easier to read.
HP: [-100%-]
Remaining HP: 1037
Remaining MP: [-100%-]
Total MP: 100
Aura: [-100%-]
Remaining Aura: 5003
That makes sense. My aura can absorb a lot more damage than my body, but the more I use it to boost my strength or agility, the more likely something is to sneak through the barrier and deal direct damage.
Then there’s the [Ring of Recovery] I got from my weekly mission. I had to run ten kilometers for that one, but I’m not going anywhere dangerous without it.
All in all, I feel pretty confident in myself. With eight bullets loaded in [The Contender], there shouldn’t be anything capable of standing in my way. Taking a deep breath, I pull out the strange key I received as a reward for reaching level ten and lose myself among Vale’s narrow corridors once again, ready for my next challenge.
❖
This time I find myself riding on a small boat through a sea of clouds.
My small vessel parts the sky, taking me onward through the ethereal mist, where wisps of vapor curl and dance around the boat's wooden hull like playful spirits. Above me, the sky burns with a surreal palette of colors—pale gold streaks woven into the deepest blue, with distant glimmers of violet and the occasional burst of sunlight that sets the clouds aglow like liquid fire.
Far ahead, a sleeping giant looms, a grand and fragmented fortress that defies all reason and gravity. It is built upon an archipelago of crystal islands, each one suspended in the sky as though held aloft by invisible threads. The largest of these floating masses is crowned with gleaming spires, their sharp tips glittering like diamond teeth that pierce the heavens. Bridges of rainbow light stretch between the islands, pulsing with energy.
As I draw closer, I can see wind swirling between the islands—vast, cyclonic streams of air that ferry glittering debris and crystalline shards in endless whirlpools. The wind itself carries a faint, musical hum, like a symphony sung by the sun, a melody both beautiful and haunting.
The boat shudders as it breaches a dense fog bank, and the temperature drops suddenly. Frost forms along the wooden rails, and the clouds around me become heavier, darker. Finally, my vehicle leads itself to a small dock at the corner of one of the lower islands, and I set foot on this realm of beautiful madness.
[Dungeon 2] Shattered Prism Citadel.
[New objective] Defeat the dungeon boss.
[Additional objective] Defeat 20 Elementals.
[Additional objective] Defeat 5 Crystal Guardians.
[Additional objective] Defeat 2 Living Reflections.
[Additional objective] Complete the dungeon without your HP ever falling below 50%
Having the objectives spelled out in front of me, I steady my breath, readying both gun and knife before advancing.
This place doesn’t look like any city I’ve ever seen. There are no homes, no shops—just intricate, towering structures of pure crystal, refracting light and bending the high winds that pass through them. Many seem to have purposes beyond my understanding, functioning with an alien precision that I can only begin to imagine. I'm just about to experiment with the strange technology when I notice something hovering nearby.
It’s… hard to describe.
A floating dodecahedron, its body almost invisible as it shifts and reflects the light around it. Every so often, it emits a low, whooshing hum, adjusting its position with eerie fluidity. It almost looks like a floating Roomba, if it were designed by a sorcerer rather than an engineer.
Not one to take chances, I creep up behind it, waiting for an opening. The moment its shell shifts, I strike, driving my knife in deep, tearing it open as a bear might crack open a crab. It jerks violently, its internal energy spilling out in bursts of mana and elemental flares. A few hit me, each one scorching through my aura with a hot, tingling burn. With a final, guttural cry—like an echoing lament cast to the wind—it falls apart, the shards clattering to the ground.
Elementals defeated: 1 of 20.
“Jesus Christ, that was dark. Can’t I just fight robots? Maybe something that doesn’t have a soul?”
In some ways, it reminded me of an animal—aware enough to carry out basic tasks but without the full spark of consciousness. A "life," perhaps, but not a "self."
I crouch to shove the broken components into my inventory, but before I can finish, a beam of pure light sears into my side, igniting my aura with a pulsing heat that only appears to grow after each second. I roll out of the way, but the beam tracks my movements with relentless precision. More of them are closing in, descending from other islands. That cry wasn’t just a death rattle—it was a summon, an alert, and the reinforcements are plenty.
Aura: [-95%-]
At least half a dozen Elementals fly behind me, forcing me to turn sharply through the strange crystalline buildings, darting into cover to avoid their scorching rays. At the rear of the pack is a tall figure in ornate armor, face hidden by an elongated, angular helmet. The Crystal Guardian moves with ominous purpose, its four arms gesturing commands to the hovering creatures, directing them like a swarm of drones, tightening the net around me.
Counting seconds before I’m cornered, I decide to take a wild gamble. Above us flows one of the powerful wind currents I saw spotted earlier—a river of invisible force, surging like water in an ethereal channel of invisible mana. Bracing myself, I jump, making a desperate dive into the stream.
The current catches me for a fleeting second before violently spitting me back out, catapulting me through the air. Light-beams flash past as I twist, momentum carrying me straight toward their leader. I drive my blade into the Guardian’s chest, using my weight to bring us both crashing to the ground. He gives a final shuddering spasm before his light fades, and as it does, the remaining enemies falter, leaving me just enough time to catch my breath.
[Stealth] Lvl 10 (8%)
With their leader gone, the Elementals are easy pickings. Scattered and uncoordinated, they lose any semblance of strategy, retreating to their usual patterns once the Guardian’s influence fades. And as long as I’m patient, slipping in and out of the shadows seems to be enough for them to lose track of me time and time again. With that and the fact that the initial impact from their weapons only manages to burn through a small percentage of my aura, it’s hard to call this a fight.
And yet, I can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong.
If these creatures have long-range communication, why did they stop coming? Checking my objectives, it’s easy to see that numbers are their greatest advantage. So why send just a small squad, and why allow me the time to pick them off one by one? With these questions in my mind, I decide against advancing toward the central island just yet. Instead, I turn my attention to the mechanisms and the wind currents, determined to understand how this strange system works.
It takes longer than I’d like, each minute gnawing at me, making me wonder how much time I’m wasting on the other side. But finally, I start to piece it together. Inside certain structures are access points—places where rubble and other objects are fed into the currents, transporting them across the islands. It’s easy to see why these currents aren’t used for travel. Without an aura, colliding with a flying boulder would be fatal.
One more leap of faith…
I step into the current and let it take me, surrendering to its pull. The sensation is like becoming a hurricane.
My mind struggles to keep pace with the speed as I roam across the sky. Anything I try to focus on vanishes in a blink, swallowed by the rush of wind. Below, I catch glimpses of the shapes of enemies and barricades—a network of nodes spread strategically throughout the citadel, standing in formation, coordinated and ready.
That’s good.
Landing inside another cargo building, I find plenty of room to slip through and take them from behind. It’s like unraveling a tightly woven knot. I isolate a Crystal Guardian, pulling it back into the shadows, a single strike enough to disable their defenses. One by one, the threads of their carefully knit net unravel, and I find myself almost enjoying the chaos I’m creating.
Elementals defeated: 22/20.
Crystal Guardians defeated: 6/5.
Living Reflections defeated: 0/2.
By the time I approach the central palace, the army that once guarded it is in ruins. More troops are coming, rushing in from the lower islands, but at this point, it hardly matters anymore.
Their palace is a masterpiece of kaleidoscopic architecture, with intricate corridors that challenge my mind with endless fragmented mirrors. Light reflects and fractures into infinity, filling the space with ethereal, otherworldly hues. At the heart of the structure, a chamber splits the path: one route spirals upward, the other descends. I know I’m supposed to head up to face this dungeon’s final challenge, but if I’m being honest, I might as well explore everything—this place likely won’t see me again.
The lower floor is dark, torch-lit, dirty, a striking contrast to the grandeur above. Shockingly, what I find here resembles a prison. There’s just one cell, barred without a door, and from it echoes the rhythmic clang of hammer against anvil. On each side of the room, a shimmering orb of light hovers.
Expecting a trick, I approach one of the orbs. It ripples, shifting, taking on a human form—my form. Reflexively, I draw [The Contender]. My reflection mirrors me. We fire at the same instant, and the impact shuts down my senses with raw, searing pain.
HP: [-65% ]
Aura: [-20% ]
The world spins as I crash back against the wall, barely conscious enough to recognize that my reflection took the full brunt of my attack, crumbling to pieces. Dazed, I press a trembling hand against my chest, half-expecting to find a hole. No, it’s just a bruise, but half of my torso has turned a vivid purple beneath my armor, blood oozing down in rivers like thick tar.
Living Reflections defeated: 1/2.
Gasping, I clutch a healing potion and smash it against my chest. Cool relief blooms briefly over my skin, but the bleeding persists, running down my torso, across the floor, tracing lines along the cold tiles. My blood snakes forward, pulled like a thread toward the other hovering orb of light.
A raw, unrestrained dread grips my heart.
Is this it? Do I die here today?
I could probably survive a bit longer, maybe get myself out of this. But beyond that? Even my best arguments feel paper-thin, like excuses disguised as reasons to keep fighting. The temptation to close my eyes, to just let go, rises.
Then, a flicker of warmth cuts through the numbing pain—something distant yet vivid. A memory, woven from warmth and closeness. I think of Blake, wonder where she is, what she’s doing. If I asked, would she put everything aside to come to me? Would she press her chest against mine, her heartbeat steady until I couldn’t tell it from my own?
"Tonight…" I whisper, blood dripping down my lips. "Yeah. I’ll ask her tonight."
With a last surge of determination, I pull myself upright, my chest heaving. The second orb begins to shift, solidifying into a clear, crystalline copy of me. It stands back, scrutinizing me with cold, familiar eyes as it forms, layer by layer, a flawless imitation of my bruised and bloodied self.
“C’mon, handsome. Let’s dance.”
A single shot is fired. I throw my knife at the gun, making sure the explosive dust cannot exit the barrel, and the fight’s over. I then drag myself to the bars, clutching my ribs as the potion slowly works its magic. The shadow inside the cell takes a moment before acknowledging me.
“You’re… not what I expected,” the figure remarks with heavy tiredness in its voice.
Ancient—that’s the first word that comes to mind. The figure resembles an old man, yet his skin is jet-black, his hair shock-white, and his eyes blaze like embers, making him seem demonic in nature. He turns from his anvil, his work complete.
“You were waiting for me?” I ask, my confusion only deepening.
“Everyone knows the end is coming,” he says. “They just don’t know how, or when.”
“The end…?”
“You’re here to claim the life of this world. The last soul to even set foot on it.”
“And you won’t stop me?”
He gives a soft, knowing smile. “The beginning doesn’t interfere with the end. My work here is done. I’ve made peace with my fate. Can you say the same, adventurer?” With deliberate care, he picks up something from the anvil, extending it toward me.
“What is this?” I ask, accepting the offering.
“A weapon. The one I wish I’d had. And the one you’ll need, when it’s your turn to stand on this side of the bars.”
“I won’t fail. My world won’t end up like this one.”
The stranger chuckles, a deep, weathered sound. “I wonder… How many times have those words been spoken before?”
The moment I take the forged weapons from his hands, he vanishes, dissipating like the final wisp of smoke from an old cigar. For a beat, I question if he was ever there at all.
I glance down at the twin weapons in my hands, taking in the craftsmanship. They’re a pair of tomahawks, their handles fashioned from dark, charred wood with an obsidian sheen. The blades, impossibly pure silver, leave a faint, metallic taste in the air.
[Ghost’s Whispers – Lvl 13 Dual Tomahawks – Fated Weapon]
“Fated?”
[Fated Weapon: Will Always Match The Level Of Its Wielder]
Weaker than [The Contender] now, but with room to grow. I’ll take that. Every day of the week, I’ll take that.
That is my last rational thought before the exhaustion overpowers me.
[Secret Objective Completed]