Concrete surrounded me with dim torches on both sides. The hall was wide enough for a few people to walk side-by-side. Guards surrounded me, including a general.

Frantically looking around, one of the guards yelled, “What’s going on?!”

More screams, this time mixed with the noise of bodies thrown. A guard ran out from the corner, begging for help. Within seconds, his face smashed like a mosquito.

Behind the corpse was a bulky piece of blue armor. It stood more ominous than anything, and the ground vibrated with each step it took.

“Everyone, weapons up! Proceed with caution!”

“It’s a SCAR agent! The Ionians came to attack us!”

A SCAR agent? Have the Ionians come to save me?

The guards formed a half circle in front of the suit of armor. The SCAR agent instantly destroyed their formation. One guard’s head was slammed against the wall, cracked open for fluids to escape. Another’s eyes were stabbed. All of them were vigorously killed. Limbs flew along with a crimson liquid. Walls were stained with the guards’ insides.

I stood frozen. I couldn’t even tell if I was breathing. The only thing reminding me that I was alive was my heart thudding to its limit.

Was this SCAR going to slay these demons and save me? I doubt it. That monster was not sane.

Even though I had this positive image in my head, I still associated the bulky, blue armor with death. Death walked closer to me. It loomed over, its bright yellow visor shaded with red. I dropped down, covering my head once again, waiting for impact. At any moment, it would—

“I told you not to create a scene, and you did the exact opposite.” A man’s voice echoed down a hall. His footsteps tapped toward me until his figure was visible.

A slim man was covered in black from head to toe, with not an inch of skin exposed.

He signed annoyingly. “What’s done is done. It doesn’t matter anymore. But don’t lay a hand on the child.” The veil muffled his voice, though it almost seemed fake.

The man stood tall along with the SCAR agent.

Was he going to save me?

He kneeled to my eye level. “My child, what is your name?”

My vocals were useless. My legs were frozen, with my mouth jittering.

“Fear has engulfed your soul. Very well then, I will take my leave.” He extended his legs, walking away from me.

He and the SCAR agent were going to leave, and they were going to leave without me. Their objective wasn’t to save me. Stop them. Move your legs. Move your mouth.

Finally, the words came out. “C–Can you save me?”

He turned around, his body facing me. “Is that your desire? To be saved from this dreadful place?”

On my fours, I stuttered, “I want to escape from here.”

His voice lowered. “Is that so?” He raised it back to normal. “That I cannot do.”

I slumped onto my legs. For a moment, I had hope, but now I knew he wouldn’t save me.

“Child, today I shall not help you, nor will I ever. Your escape relies on the determination and willpower you draw from your soul. If courage is there, then your desire will follow.”

“Why can you not save me?”

“If you desire the answer to your question, there’s a place called the House with Answers above the highest point near your capital. Answers shall be yours once you get past the death it comes with. For now, you must bear the suffering with all your strength.”

Water piled in eyes, blurring my vision. I slammed my palm against the concrete ground. A painful sensation vibrated though my hand and up my arm. The force caused my hand to sting before it slowly turning numb.

I didn't care for my hand or the pain. I just wanted one thing.

"I don't want to suffer anymore." My voice was fragile like a vase.

The man's response was something I would never forget.

"A life with no struggle is a life with no substance. A life with no substance is a life with no beauty. The struggle you are enduring is only temporary. Maybe one day you will find something or someone to cling onto. Something beautiful."

From there, he turned around and vanished from my sight.

***

My eyes opened slowly, crunching myself upright. I was sweat-drenched, panting like an overgrown sheep on a blistering summer day. That dream was so clear. No, it wasn’t a dream. Dreams are fictional, like pretending to run away from a swarm of angry beetles or jumping over a large creek to get to the other side of the world. We dream while sleeping to live in a fantasy world to replace reality.

But that wasn’t a dream. It happened. That conversation, that encounter occurred. It was so vivid. How?

Usually, I could remember bits and pieces of my dreams, but this was different. It was almost as if I relived that moment.

The more I thought about the death in blue, the sicker I felt. I felt sick to my stomach, and my sweaty body wasn’t helping. Nausea flew up my esophagus, but thankfully, nothing came out.

My ribs ached, but it wasn’t enough to be concerned about. I applied slight pressure, looking around the tent...? How did I get here?

I was in a sleeping bag with my sweaty clothes. Judging by the amount of sunlight leaking, it was peak daytime with no clouds. Well, the no clouds part was a guess. There could be clouds present that weren’t blocking the sun.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Too lazy to get up, I tried recalling what happened. The most recent event I remember was Marshall’s death and my impulsive decision to charge at death. We were there to get to the House with Answers, hoping to find a path to get me across the other side of the wall. But that didn’t go as planned.

I didn’t know what to expect—going there completely blind to consequences, hoping for the best outcome. I never would’ve thought a SCAR agent guarded that place. At least, that’s what I thought it did. I mean, why would it be there?

Thinking about it more, it could be because that house was related to Ionia. Back in the hallway, the slim man guided me, saying something about testing my will.

I clamped my head together, internally screaming. Marshall’s death. The SCAR agent. The dream. Where I was, everything was too much to process.

Collapsed on the sleeping bag, I heard bickering from outside the tent. I blocked out the noise, just wanting peace for myself.

How could I let Marshall die like that? Why was I saved instead of him? What did he do to receive such a cruel way to die? It wasn’t fair. I just gained someone in my life and lost them within a week.

Why did it have to end like this again?

I clamped my hands to my mouth. A gush of liquid ran up my throat. My cheeks were stuffed like a squirrel holding an acorn in its mouth. But instead of food, it was my stomach rejecting my bodily fluids.

There was no other choice. I swallowed as hard as I could, keeping the bitter liquid inside. It took multiple attempts, but I got it done.

I panted as though I ran a few miles, hammering myself in the forehead while internally screaming. His death replayed over and over like a never-ending loop.

I shook my head in disbelief and took a much-needed, deep breath. My first friend in the outside world was killed, and there was nothing I could do about it.

Well, I could act like nothing happened for the sake of my insanity, though it would be unfair to Marshall. I considered myself fairly decent when it came to blocking out memories, so the option was on the table. But yet again, it wouldn’t be fair to him.

What else could I do? Let guilt overtake my body?

No, not that.

While going over everything, the tent zipped open, allowing me to hear their voices clearer.

“She’s still sleeping? Are you sure she didn’t die?”

“Of course not! I checked on her earlier, and her heart was breathing.”

“Breathing? You mean beating?”

“Same thing.”

I faked my sleep. I didn’t see the need to open my eyes just yet.

“So you leaned against her chest? How was it? How did she smell?” He sounded disgustingly excited.

“N-No, I checked her pulse. And she’s sweaty. Who could blame the poor woman? She’s been knocked cold for three nights.”

It’s been three nights? What the hell?

“Sweaty, you say—Ow, ow, let go of my ear!”

“The hell is wrong with your hormones? Is this how all teenage boys are? Or are you just the worst of the worst?”

Things were looking quite lively. Or rather sounding. I couldn’t see through my eyelids.

“It’s the male body taking over me! It’s not my fault!”

A loud slap followed those words. I couldn’t tell where, though.

“Go bother Ruby like you normally do, and let me do my job here.”

“Ruby is in some stupid meeting with the squad leaders. I don’t want to seem not busy because Randy will give me some work that I’m incapable of doing. And I definitely don’t want Citrus to ask for help cooking. Please! I hate cooking with him. He’s so annoying and won’t shut up.”

“Geez, that does sound pretty annoying,” someone said sarcastically.

“I’ll go on my knees and beg if you want. Let me watch you do your job!”

“Hell no! You shouldn’t even be allowed anywhere near this tent after I saw you peeking through last night. Now leave before I force Randy to give you something to do!”

“I-I wasn’t peeking. That wasn’t—”

“If you weren’t peeking, why can’t you look me dead in the eyes while speaking? Oh, that rhymed.”

“Ok, ok! I’ll leave! But please don’t tell Randy.”

The zipper closed without another word from her mouth. Well, that was some conversation. Where even was I? What were these squad leaders that were briefly mentioned? It was tempting to say something like surprise, I’m awake, but I wanted to see what this person would do.

Her movements were so subtle I couldn’t hear what she was doing. I didn’t know whether she was even in the tent anymore. I still kept my eyes shut. After a long silence, she finally spoke up:

“You’re awake, aren’t you?”

How in the world did she know?

I slowly opened my eyes, sitting upright on the sleeping bag. “Was it obvious?”

“Your sleeping position changed. Every time I checked on you before, you hadn’t moved a muscle. You slept on your back for days. But today, you were on your side.”

“Then you’re the one who took care of me. Thank you.” That was the least I could say.

She smiled broadly, moving her shoulder-length, silver hair, “No problem, ummm…your name?”

“Wh-What?”

“Your name. What is it?”

“Jill.”

“Oh, Jill. Well then, no problem,” her smile stayed the same. “My name’s Harley. If you don’t remember, I was the one who grabbed you on my horse, so you didn’t die by that hunk of blue.”

The tips of her hair curled into her neck. Her blue eyes went perfectly with her silver hair. Her pale skin appeared smooth and well-cared for. A stack of bracelets was on her left wrist, and none on the other. So, this was how my savior looked?

“Y-You were the one who saved me? Well, I guess I’ll be in your debt for a while. Thank you, though, for risking your life to save mine.”

“It wasn’t a risk. There was plenty of separation between you and that killer hunk of metal, so it wasn’t too bad.”

I shook my head. “You saved me from that SCAR agent—from death. Of course, it will come with some risk.”

“If we’re speaking about risks, you shouldn’t be the one to talk. You went to the House with Answers expecting smooth sailing. You were ready to throw your life away for an answer that might not even be real. If anyone risked something more, it’s you.”

Wow, what a great way to talk to someone who just woke up from a miniature coma.

“Anyways, it wasn’t a big deal. I just happened to be in the right place and time. So, consider yourself lucky,” she snapped.

“You’re pretty straightforward, aren’t you?” I joked, trying to erase the somewhat tense mood.

“Me? Nah. Not at all. I don’t mean anything I say. I’m just taking my frustration out of you.”

“Is it because of the other person?”

“Who? Jeremy? Not at all. Though he is a tad annoying, we all still love him. And the fact that he sometimes steals food, claiming he didn’t know someone else was going to eat it. And then…”

She continued to rant about Jeremy, whom I had no interest in. The more she ranted, the louder she got, and the more her hands flew in the air, so it was safe to say who ticked her off.

“So ya, we all love Jeremy. Who couldn’t?”

“Right…” There was nothing more I could’ve said.

“Anyways, forget about this stuff and get yourself ready. There are clothes on the chair behind for you to change into. Come out when you’re ready so I can show you around the place.”

“What’s wrong with the clothes I’m wearing?”

She gave me a petty look. “What’s wrong with the clothes on the chair? Are they not your style? I’ll go grab something else if you want.”

Seriously, what’s with that look? And to be honest, I didn’t even look at the clothes behind me. I was just curious as to why I should change.

“No, there’s no need. Everything’s perfect. I’ll change into whatever it is.”

“Ok, I’ll be waiting outside.”

She left the tent, zipping it behind her. Her look completely changed. It’s kinda scary how someone can flip expressions like that in a blink of an eye.