At first, the memories of his First Nightmare started to replace the noise in his mind:

The time he unlocked the hidden door where darkness pulsed from his entry; or when he ran through the supernatural blackness in which shadows were felt under his skin.

It was all a similar feeling.

Hidden in the crater's black mouth.

Pulling his eyes towards the eerie shadows.

"..."

Hope started to force his gaze away and gazed left.

There on that side were the remains of forgotten buildings crowded together all skeletal and hollow. But then noticeable silhouettes unnaturally passed the windows and alleys. A growl resounded followed by another unearthly cry—a territory clearly made and claimed by Nightmare Creatures daring anyone or anything to come to pass.

But between those buildings, past the fractured stone structures that one had to squint to see, was a tall curved concrete bridge standing on thick pillars:

The freeway.

Hope's foot shifted slightly forward. "Ah…"

'Haven't seen that in a while.'

Of course, it was only a thought memory away. But still.

Hope's hand twitched on the sword's hilt. He stared at the sight—the sight of all those convoy travels he had taken on, and apparently with civilians as well. A road that would have led out of this cursed city, at least before it was bombed by the said ambush.

"So close yet so far away." Hope muttered.

It was close, but it was useless. Dangerous. A pitiful thing in which gave him no reason to cross on after everything that had happened with the opened gate and Sector Five.

Breeze~

At that moment, as the wind blew in his ear and the drizzle of rain weaved through the space, tall giant shadows emerged from the fog. Two thick shadowed structures loomed towards the sky and converged at one point like an upside-down 'V'. Hope looked incomparably small against the two giants, an ant even. And it was as if those giants fell, a loss of balance, with nowhere else to go but towards each other to prevent a doomed collapse.

An impatient energy rushed through Hope as his eyes hardened at the view.

No doubt, they were the leaned towers the hanging man spoke of.

"Now that's close." Hope craned his neck to look up.

The drizzled rain whistled in agreement before graying the towers once more behind its blinding wall as if teasing him.

Again, it was close but not that close. Still a journey away. But how should Hope get there?

Hope quickly glanced side to side, an idea beginning to form in his mind.

'Three options.' Hope thought.

Although, he had already chosen one on where to go.

Oooooong–

First obvious option was the damn crater.

Distant ripples of water could be heard below the mouth's darkness. Like the underground railroad site next to the chasm Hope fell in, he figured another stream flowed beneath in that dark labyrinth. A suffocating maze that would force him blind. A likely chance that would lead him towards the leaned towers, but the time spent would be wasted

That demanded instead to have a guide, in which, of course, Hope lacked.

Darkness wasn't his ally anyways for that course of action.

Not this deep into the city.

Second option was to go around through the left side where the crowded buildings were. Hope could snake his way in, maneuver around like some silent fiction ninja warrior that fellow soldiers also read about. But then there was the other likely chance of facing those territorial monsters of whatever rank– no, class, lurking behind those walls, and beneath the floors. A hunt in groups, meaning bigger numbers, truly played a role with his damn [Black Sheep] Attribute.

'Mm…Keep that territory.' Hope thought as he turned to his right.

Third option…

…was a fallen mirror-building structure.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

One of the monoliths that gave Mirror City its name.

Compared to the other two options, it was now more of a short-cut bridge.

The mirror—once a proud, shimmering spire—lay slanted across the ruins to the right of the crater, the fractured facade reduced to a shattered monument of a bygone age. Nonetheless, it still reflected the pale sky, the majority of the panels being cracked and fissured like a thousand shimmering screens under the rain.

Despite those marred features, the building was also pockmarked with its own small craters.

Scars of what Hope recognized to be bombs left jagged and uneven holes across a rippled cratered landscape of war. Hope assumed they were the attempts against the Nightmare Creatures from Category-Two gate's first appearance. Or the other logical assumption was the effect of mankind's driven madness.

Strangely enough, the mirror-building harbored no signs of life. At least, speaking of creatures. The vines still threaded their way across the cityscape.

But there was no hint of monsters.

No howls, growls, croaks, or roars. No shadows lurking behind the broken glass.

Something about that felt wrong.

It was too still.

Too quiet.

Hope nonchalantly traced his eyes one last time from the building's torn bottom to its lengthened point where it led straight to the leaned towers. A direct route. And an 'easy' bridge across.

Hope's decision was the same.

"Obviously," Hope said. "Short-cut it is."

Without a second thought, he walked towards the shattered spire.

***

Step– Crack.

Step– Crack.

Step– Crack.

Hope stalked forward as his boots crunched against the debris of mirrored glass with each footfall.

The world whistled around him. From above, if the Spell was watching, staring down below was a small figure walking across what was like a frozen river upstream. A reflection shimmering, yet cracked. Flawed. Almost as if its whole facade would break and shrivel altogether. A stupid slip and roll would drag someone to a falling death over the side with the result of broken bones or impaled flesh. But Hope's eyes calmly remained forward, putting one foot in front of the other while he scanned each panel, avoiding the bombed holes and unstable patches.

Step– Crack.

His feet rolled heel-to-toe–

Heel-to-toe–

Hqroooowwl!

And to his far left, over the wide crater's mouth on the other side, a collective howl cut through the drizzling rain. Another Nightmare Creature answered further in. And another. And another. But Hope ignored, his reflection wavering beneath him like a distorted image that refused to produce a clear likeness.

The light rain breathed icily on his face.

It bit his ears and nose, a coldness settling in his bones through all the time he traveled in this weather. He forced each soaking limb to move, wrapping his numb fingers around the sword as his eyes continued to dance over each cautious step.

Step– Crack.

Step– Crack.

"Haa…" Hope let out a steady breath, synching with the wind's whistling rain.

He was near the leaned towers alright—but still no traps. He was making progress. He was sure of it. But what of the 'higher-ground' information part? Maybe the Awakened was inside the leaned towers instead.

'That would make sense.' Hope thought. It was damn high afterall.

And so far nothing bad…happened.

Hope paused at that thought.

He peeked up at the sky and then back front.

'Tsk. Should I say it's bad?' What do they call it? Reverse psychology?

There were naturally worse things than this situation. Like dying.

And it wasn't like he could fool with the Spell's odds—the possibility of fooling it to his favor. A mere human doing a reverse manifestation wasn't exactly possible, was it?

Step. Crack–

'Everything happens for a reason, darl–'

No. Mother. Maybe not.

"Not this time."

Step. Crack–

'The Spell is about balance, soldier.'

'The Spell does not choose the role of an Aspirant randomly.'

'How would you know?'

Step…

Hope suddenly heard his past self asking his supervisor about it. He was a few years older than Hope, one of the considered prodigy ones, but also one that tailed him between duties like an annoying fly.

'You're questioning an Awakened how he knows?'

'Yes.'

'...sigh…'

'What?'

'Be grateful I don't write you up.'

'Right. But what else about the First Nightmare?'

'That's all I'm saying…'

'It would be helpful if I know what else to expect…If I ever get infected that is–'

'You won't– You won't, soldier.'

Hope blinked from the memory as he did another heel-to-toe step on a less fractured panel.

'Well, fuck that.'

Hope thought as he stepped with his left foot.

'Because I did dammit.'

Poor judgment call.

His supervisor should've explained in detail, but that was another thing about being part of the Army Reserve Force, especially when filled with the lower class. In a system where strength and survival skills were prized, officers prioritized the well-being of certain soldiers, mostly to the point of just being biased.

Although some overconfidently defended themselves by also saying it was a 'personal trial' each soldier must face alone, there were others who adopted the fatalistic mindset that those who were strong enough would survive.

While the weak were destined to perish.

But the way his supervisor explained the Spell was as if he had studied it. Or was informed a fraction of its nature. Maybe scientists had a hand in it, or the government, who knows. Hope didn't give it much thought then. But now…?

'The hell was he certain for if I get infected or not.'

Hope paused.

'Wait…' He frowned at the thought, but then quickly shook his head–

'Right…'

The instinctive voice whispered.

!!!

Slip–

Suddenly, Hope's foot slipped right.

The rain puddle hissed under his boot, and his knees buckled from the abrupt movement. He shot his hand toward the glass and steadied himself.

Danger? Where?

Hope froze as his eyes bounced around each blank gray space.

And, he waited.

Expecting for some bullet or monster to come flying past. For some threat to finally show itself.

But there was only– 'Nothing.' Hope thought.

"…"

He counted to ten.

His eyes scanned again from left to right in a constant arc. But confirming he was alone, for now, he slowly stood up.

The light rain whipped more in the space, casting blurry waves around that camouflaged Hope from the world. He didn't have to worry about being spotted from afar by snipers or scouts, but that advantage was just as much of a disadvantage when crossing this unstable bridge. Weakness for strength. Or strength for weakness as one would say.

Hope gripped tighter on the spine sword's hilt and took a step forward.

Then the second step.

Third step.

Fourth step.

For a moment, the rain diminished and Hope could barely see the buildings to his right like a haunting visage. Was it there?

The shards tinkered at his feet as he stepped left. Then right.

Then–

'Right…'