"Ahh…"
Mirage sank into his seat, his chin resting on the palm of his right hand. His slender fingers tapped against the arm of his chair, harmonizing with the rhythm of an old tune.
Nearby, his mother stood with a nervous expression, her gaze locked on the dark circles beneath her son's pink eyes. She tried to speak, but the words died in her throat.
The boy sighed, cradling a mug between his velvety hands. Then, he brought the cylindrical cup to his slightly parted lips, gently pouring the warm coffee into his mouth.
After swallowing, he wiped his face with a fresh napkin.
His tired gaze swept across the room, reaching his worried mother as he sighed evenly.
"I'll be fine."
He took another sip of coffee to suppress his ever-growing fatigue
"I've never been one to die easily—"
"—I know you won't die from this! It's just…"
She bit her lip, calming her emotions before briefly turning away.
"You know what happened to your father…"
…
The room went silent.
"I'm not my father."
"I know you aren't, but—"
"—You have nothing to worry about."
"I'm your mother—I can't just suddenly stop worrying!"
"..."
Despite their emotional conversation, the Spell was slowly pulling his consciousness away.
"Just promise me that you'll put yourself first…"
She fidgeted nervously.
"Even if you change… even if you experience something terrible—as long as you're still alive, I can handle it."
She rested her hand on his head.
"Just live for me, that's all…"
"..."
The boy didn't respond.
"...?"
He had already fallen asleep.
—
—
—
[Aspirant! Welcome to the Nightmare Spell. Prepare for your First Trial…]
—
—
—
Mirage dreamt of an abandoned city.
Mossy stone bricks lined the city walls, enclosing each building within. Around, a moat of water encircled the perimeter, protecting its people from the weaker abominations.
In the center, three gargantuan statues scraped the sky, their height looming over the stone palace nearby.
The left statue crouched with an indifferent expression, molten lava streaming from its even eyes. The figure steadily lowered its head below the neighboring statue, its posture reverent like an epigone kneeling before its deity.
The statue on the right mirrored the left—made from the same material, weeping the same molten tears, all while praying to the same figure.
As for the center statue, it was crafted with flawless alabaster, each indent carved with meticulous precision. An ivory robe wrapped tightly around its curvaceous form, the collar slipping loosely off its shoulder.
Its smooth hands reached down, gently caressing each obsidian face.
She…
She looked eerily similar to Mirage.
…
The molten lava streaming from her followers' eyes pooled into her waiting hands, absorbed without resistance.
She had taken their tears—their agony—and transformed it into her power.
Time accelerated.
As centuries passed, both obsidian statues began to melt. Their forms slowly softened, and when they collapsed, the alabaster statue crouched, absorbing their essence no different from food.
…and moments later, only one statue remained, unmoving and unblemished.
Time slowed, stopped, and then resumed its usual pace.
[Aspirant! Welcome to the Nightmare Spell. Prepare for your First Trial…]
The moment Mirage opened his eyes, he swept his gaze across the room, preparing for a sudden ambush of Nightmare Creatures.
After all, Sleepers shared stories about nearly dying the moment their First Nightmare began, so it wouldn't hurt to be wary.
Fortunately, there were no abominations nearby—no humans either.
A quiet sigh escaped.
"Alright."
Mirage relaxed his muscles.
He felt the cold stone biting his exposed feet, threatening hypothermia if he was stationary for too long.
Worse, his outfit did little to protect him from the cold. He wasn't naked, but his choice of outfit was questionable given the temperature.
Sensations aside, he organized his thoughts and assessed the situation.
Firstly, the statues had to be important. Otherwise, the Spell wouldn't have focused on them.
Secondly, he seemed to be within the stone palace. He wasn't sure which part of it, but he could infer that it was higher up.
'Mmm.'
Mirage traced his fingers along the cold stone walls as if searching for something. After a long moment, he clapped his hands together, letting the dust scatter to the floor.
The room was thick, empty, and the door was tightly shut. Therefore, a random Nightmare Creature couldn't burst in without alerting him first.
In other words, this was the perfect time to check his runes—an opportunity only an idiot would pass up.
Thus, Mirage imagined a cliché system panel from a subpar manhwa, hoping the Spell would understand what he meant.
And understand, it did.
A myriad of golden particles shimmered before him, floating lazily in the air before gathering together. Eventually, they formed a series of unfamiliar runes, each translated by the Spell.
***
Name: Mirage.
True Name: —
Rank: Aspirant.
Soul Core: Dormant.
Memories: —
Echoes: —
Attributes: [Enchantress], [Mark of Divinity], [Remnant of Illusions].
Aspect: [Faithful Puppet].
Aspect Description: [The Puppeteer has attained many dolls, but none were as loyal as this one. Perhaps she favors it, or perhaps she does not.]
Mirage squinted his eyes. He wasn't exactly displeased, he was just unsure what the Spell was trying to say.
Who was Puppeteer and why did she have a collection of dolls? Were they truly dolls, or servants? In that case, had he become her servant? Would she help him during the Nightmare? If she didn't help, wouldn't that make the Aspect useless?
How unfortunate. He had so many questions but couldn't answer any.
Shaking his head, Mirage moved his focus onto his Attributes. After all, it was well known that—for the First Nightmare—a person's Attributes could be better than their Aspect:
[Enchantress] Attribute Description: "You have been wrapped by the marvelous ribbons of beauty. You are Fallacy's daughter, but your charm is no illusion."
"..."
'...Daughter? Daughter!?'
Mirage checked his shorts, making sure that he hadn't somehow transitioned.
He was a man! Why not "Fallacy's 'son'"—and who the hell even was Fallacy?
"Gods…"
He shook his head once again.
Wording aside, [Enchantress] seemed to be an appearance-based attribute, meaning that if he had to fight, he doubted that the Attribute would contribute much. Unless, of course, he seduced the treacherous creature…
…but he wasn't willing to do that.
[Mark of Divinity] Attribute Description: "You bear a faint scent of divinity, as though someone briefly touched by it once, a long time ago."
[Remnant of Illusions] Attribute Description: "Illusions take shelter within you, recognizing you as one of their own."
...
He nodded with a dazed expression.
"What...?"
Mirage didn't understand a word.
—
—
—
Authors Note:
- Word Count: [1252]
- Please read the disclaimer, the world will make much more sense, and you might feel confused without it.
- Was the chapter alright? I have a really hard time judging my own writing after I've written it since I have been staring at it for so long, so please point out any issues it has. For example, I have a habit of moving through things too fast so please tell me if I do that so I can fix it. I'm working on my writing as much as possible, so I just hope it's good enough to read for now. Of course, when I get better, I'll probably go back and edit early chapters.
- Is there anything in particular that you want to see in this fanfic?
- Also, would you like me to make a few official illustrations for each volume? I'm not godly at digital drawing, but I think I'm good enough for it to add to the experience.