Jael's unfocused eyes slowly regained clarity.
Cold seeped into his bones first.
Then pain.
Then the realization that he was alive.
He lay at the bottom of a shallow pit, half-buried in snow. The night sky stretched endlessly above him, dark clouds drifting like sluggish beasts across the moon. Frost clung to his lashes, and his breath came out in uneven white clouds.
"So… I was right."
His voice came out low, calm—too calm for someone who had just relived his own death multiple times.
"It was a dream."
He pushed himself up with trembling arms. Every movement sent a dull ache through his body, but compared to what he had felt in the nightmare, this pain was almost merciful.
As he steadied himself, something shimmered at the corner of his vision.
Jael froze.
A translucent interface hovered in the air before him, faintly glowing with an eerie violet hue. Ancient symbols lined its edges, shifting slightly as if alive.
"…What is this?" he muttered.
His voice carried skepticism first—then resentment.
"Magic?"
The memories rushed back in an instant. The blood. The screams. The endless repetition of that night. Lemi's eyes as life drained from them. The knight's voice whispering wake up as his blade pierced flesh.
Jael's breathing became ragged.
"It's because of this…" His hands clenched into fists. "Because of you… that I had to relive it again and again."
His voice cracked.
"I hate you!"
The shout tore into the quiet night, echoing uselessly across the snow-covered land. For a brief moment, nothing answered him. The interface remained floating, unmoved, uncaring.
Jael laughed bitterly.
After several minutes, his breathing slowed. The rage burned itself out, leaving only exhaustion behind. He wiped his face with trembling hands and forced himself to look at the interface again.
If this thing existed… then running from it wouldn't change anything.
The text shifted, rearranging itself into words he could understand.
Lv 1 – Dream Walker
Description:
You have been bestowed with power from a dead god that resides within you.
Hunted by the gods above and those who dwell in the Nether.
Your fate remains unrecorded.
HP: 8 / 8
Mana: Unmeasured (???)
Attributes:
Dream Walk:
You may traverse the dreams of others, inflicting damage that manifests in reality.
Warning: Entering the dream of a stronger entity greatly increases the risk of ego erosion and permanent loss of self.
Hallucinations:
You may impose false realities upon targets, disrupting perception and judgment.
Jael stared at the words in silence.
"…Dead god?"
A slow frown formed on his face.
"So that's it," he murmured. "That's why."
His hands shook slightly as understanding settled in.
"All these years… everyone awakening powers while I stayed the same. No mana response. No resonance. Nothing."
He had thought himself defective.
Worthless.
"It wasn't because I was weak," he whispered. "It was because something was already inside me."
A dead god.
The irony almost made him laugh.
"But if you're dead," he muttered, eyes narrowing, "why are the gods still hunting you?"
And more importantly—
"Why give me this power?"
The interface did not answer.
As if offended by the question, the mana in the air subtly shifted. Jael felt it then—a pressure pressing down on his senses, like an invisible hand tightening around his chest.
His thoughts cut off mid-sentence.
Something was coming.
Fast.
Jael's head snapped up. The cold night suddenly felt heavier, thicker. The snow around him trembled faintly, responding to an unseen presence tearing through the land.
His pupils shifted, flickering from dull violet to a sharper, deeper glow.
"…So soon?" he muttered.
Instinct—not logic—took over.
Jael's heartbeat thundered in his ears as he staggered backward, pressing himself against the icy wall of the pit. The interface flickered violently, its edges distorting as if reacting to the approaching force.
A low, unnatural sound carried through the air.
Not footsteps.
Not breathing.
Something between a whisper and a roar.
Jael clenched his teeth.
"Dream Walker…" he whispered, testing the words like a curse.
The knowledge surfaced without instruction, as if it had always been there. His vision blurred, the world losing sharpness at the edges. The snow, the sky, the pit—everything felt unreal, like a fragile layer over something deeper.
A second layer.
Jael reached out instinctively.
The world tilted.
For a brief, terrifying moment, he felt himself slipping—his sense of self stretching thin, like fabric pulled too far. Memories threatened to bleed together. Faces overlapped. Voices echoed where none should exist.
Focus.
He anchored himself to a single thought.
I am Jael.
The distortion stabilized.
Just as the presence reached the edge of the pit.
Something tall and indistinct stood at the rim, its form warped, as if reality itself refused to fully acknowledge it. Its gaze locked onto Jael.
And smiled.
Jael swallowed.
"So," he muttered softly, violet eyes glowing in the darkness, "this is what hunting feels like."
The interface pulsed once.
As if in approval.