Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Antonio Vargas - A Childish Dream

Taking a deep breath, I looked at the small crowd gathered in front of our old junior high, the same school where Andres and I had grown up together.

It was burned, but not broken.

One side of the building was scorched black. Most of the windows had shattered from the pressure of dragons flying overhead, and the flagpole leaned sideways, melted from the fire that came from the 20-Minute Calamity.

The dragons had not directly targeted the school.

The neighborhood surrounding it had not been as lucky.

Houses across the street had been flattened into smoking foundations. A nearby apartment building leaned against another, both of them burned hollow inside.

Melted cars sat abandoned along the road, their doors left open by people who had run and never returned.

Compared to everything around it, the school looked untouched.

That was why people had moved into it.

It was a shelter for everyone whose homes had been turned to dust.

The gymnasium had become a sleeping area, its floor covered with blankets, sleeping bags, and rows of donated mattresses.

Entire families lived beneath basketball hoops with whatever belongings they had managed to recover.

The cafeteria served whatever food arrived from the local farms trying to keep everyone fed.

The nurse’s office had become a small hospital, even though all the real medicine had been used up. Classrooms were divided among families.

The football field behind the school was covered with tents both for the military and the heavily injured.

On the front doors, rescue workers had put up citywide maps so people could find other temporary shelters that could possibly have their families.

Beside them, families had covered an entire wall with missing-person posters.

Some names were being taken down by volunteers helping families reunite through certain radio channels.

Others were taken down and placed to the side to help the US government confirm the deaths.

Each time a paper was pulled down, it halted the breath of hundreds.

The crowd had no mics, no big broadcast cameras, and no people in suits and ties writing down every word.

The only professionalism here was a broadcast on a nearby radio reading a continuous list of missing people, never-ending after a literal 1 billion humans had died.

Every once in a while, it was interrupted by them giving locations of temporary emergency shelters, warnings about contaminated water on the southern side of the city, and requests for O-negative blood donors to save—or, more like, give—the injured a bit more time.

Only the ones at the front were reporters—well, not really. Just teenagers trying to help or make it big after the 20-Minute Calamity, and old folk covered in soot and dirt because all the water was being diverted to stop the fires all across the US.

Most adults, if close enough, had been forced to help with the rescue effort until everyone who could be saved was saved.

With people still trapped in buildings and supplies of all kinds—medical supplies, rations, and building materials—needing transport to the cities hit hardest, the world needed them.

There weren't really any journalists. All the real journalists were either trying to peek into the Vernal church to see Lucia, trying to find their families, or dead.

Adults strong enough to lift rubble had been assigned to rescue crews. Anyone with a working vehicle transported the injured.

Construction workers searched collapsed buildings, teachers watched orphaned children, and delivery drivers carried food between shelters under military escort.

Looters and bandits had already started popping up, but they had been handled with extreme prejudice by the US government.

Teenagers sorted donations, operated radios, and passed handwritten messages between neighborhoods whenever the internet failed.

The elderly did whatever their bodies still allowed.

Nobody was permitted to remain useless anymore.

These people came for one reason.

Andres Mondragon.

He was many things.

Family, exes, acquaintances, and former best friend.

To Lucia, he was the son she abandoned Earth to save.

To his two exes, he was their way to fame, resources, or a spotlight they never wanted.

To his former classmates, he was someone who gave them their 10 minutes of fame or a platform to lie for their own benefit.

And to me, he was the guy who sat on my bedroom floor with my DS in hand, playing Pokémon, the 1st game he ever touched.

His eyes glowing with awe at what would be one of his favorite hobbies.

Choosing a Fire-type starter as his 1st Pokémon.

But to everyone, he was an idea.

The boy no longer existed; now only his name was plastered all over.

The Next Son of God.

The Hero of Remnants.

The Unworthy Hero.

Coward.

The focal point of every emotion.

Now Ms. Lucia was being treated as a saint, like a real saint with a divine connection to God.

I'm pretty sure that video of Ms. Lucia healing that little girl with that shimmering golden water was fake, a video with special effects.

So many of those had been surfacing everywhere, most of them terrible and obvious, especially the one that made Andres look like he was colluding with the dragons.

Ms. Lucia didn't have that ability before the 20-Minute Calamity.

If she did, she would have healed my broken arm when Andres and I were best friends.

But even if it was fake, it caused waves.

A pull on the people looking for hope.

And everyone was desperately looking for hope.

I felt pins and needles in my stomach, with the crowd waiting for me to speak.

A flash of everything that had been happening—the 5th documentary about Andres—started playing on a broken flat-screen off to the side that was used for emergency alarms.

This one was from the US government, pushing the narrative that Andres was Unworthy and that the true hero, the Hero of Life, was Noah because of his heroism.

It broadcast regurgitated information everyone already knew.

People had looked into his entire life, looking for any anomalies, trying to find an answer to why he seemed so special.

Was his birth special? Were there any complications?

None—he was born easily, according to Ms. Lucia, unlike her firstborn child, Daniel, who required a C-section.

How a boy killed a dragon singlehandedly.

Was he prophesied?

No evidence; no mythology or religion ever spoke of Andres or a possible end of the world like the dragons.

Was he stronger than normal?

Above average at best, always leagues below Noah and other athletes his age.

Was he more intelligent?

You would expect him to be intelligent, but he was an idiot most of the time. Still, he did do well under pressure because he thought about every possible situation.

His grades told a story that deflated the world's confidence; they were far below average. He had been noted by teachers and counselors as being unable to process information from classes effectively.

His former counselor even came out with Andres’s confidential records, and they were a bunch of nothing.

Just warnings from teachers about his behavior and his tendency to daydream.

Was he hiding hidden powers?

Nothing. No super strength, no speed, no real specialty.

So many questions, but so little information.

Snippets of information here and there.

He was part of a little kids' (soccer) football league, a right defender. It wasn't anything special; he wasn't great, and the team finished in 3rd place in the league's tournament.

He confronted a class bully to get back stolen candy during class a couple of months ago for someone he had never met.

His PlayStation profile showed how many games he had played and how good he was at them.

The results were disappointing.

Terrible performances in shooting games, unfinished puzzle games.

Thankfully, his favorite games seemed to be Dark Souls-like games and 1st-person shooters, which required awareness and skill.

It helped calm the masses because, in his recorded fight with the green dragon, he was able to dodge nearly every attack from the dragon.

Reacting to tail whips faster than the eye could see, reading the dragon's charge to perfectly get the dragon to attack the final support of the gym.

Even ending the dragon's life with a rebar through the eye, destroying its brain.

From the footage, it looked like 2 animals fighting each other, not a hero fighting a dragon.

It still fucking blows my mind that he actually killed that dragon. I mean, I wasn't a part of the 20-Minute Calamity.

I was out of town with my family on the road, so I lost no one.

But out of the 17 dragons killed by Earth, Andres killed 1 of them. Granted, he lost his left arm to it, but seriously.

He never showed that combat instinct before…

I still remember when Andres fought the class bully when we were growing up. He got his shit rocked.

Didn't stand a chance.

In the end, at most, for nearly all 15 years of his life, the amount recorded of him—all of it—amounted to up to 15 minutes of footage of him.

Most of it was him in the background of other kids' social media posts. Him walking in the background, talking to people, or being part of a group photo.

There was more footage of him, mostly from his school's CCTV, but most of it consisted of him walking between classes and talking to his friends.

Without sound or context, it gave no insight.

Ms. Lucia had already told people that Andres was a private person and didn't really speak about his feelings unless asked.

Never posted anything on social media.

Never even liked being photographed or filmed.

Due to this, the only people who could give a detailed description were Andres’s friends.

Many of whom were dead.

The 1st person people clamored for was Andres's best friend.

Thankfully, the Hero of Life, Noah Tides, is still alive, but currently he is in a medically induced coma to recuperate from his injuries caused by that fuck Paarthurnax.

So he is currently unable to answer any questions.

So it fell to acquaintances, kids, and his classmates—people who only saw him from a distance and forgot he existed.

All of them gave their own version of Andres.

He was quiet and kind.

He was creepy.

He seemed like he knew everything.

People who likely never met him, or even that one teacher who had already been proven to have never even talked to Andres—their lies shrouded the small truths of who he was.

Even the shows Andres watched were under scrutiny.

Ms. Lucia said 1 of Andres's favorite shows to watch was an anime called Death Note, which scared many people because of how it cast Andres in a demented light.

To others who didn't know him, it was bad—a child looking up to an egomaniac with a god complex.

But Andres told me why he liked it. He said the worst criminals should be judged harshly; some people aren't worth trying to rehabilitate.

If done right, a better world would come from the Death Note.

People even overlooked anime like Fullmetal Alchemist and One Piece to see the worst in him.

In the end, all of this led back to me.

Not his friend, acquaintance, or classmate.

His former best friend.

Before Noah.

Before Andres and I stopped seeing eye to eye.

I still regret talking shit behind his back…

Now they look to me.

What was he like when we were growing up?

Was he some monster behind closed doors?

Was he naturally cruel?

Was he a hidden hero, fighting evil in the shadows?

If he was here, what would he say?

That…

I don't know.

I mean, Andres was a simple guy, but I have no idea what was going through his mind.

The crowd—faces hoping for anything to cling to, a path forward.

The church wanted people to believe in God's plan, to wait for Andres with prayers for his success.

The governments wanted to ready themselves for the next wave that would come if Andres failed, preparing for war.

Other factions rising all over had their own goals.

Hell, even the cartel down in South America had grown and become the monster that was consuming the southern continent, making it its territory.

What these people in front of me wanted was to fight, not for some government or organization. They wanted to fight to support the hero who could actually make a difference.

To fight for Andres.

…

…

…

I looked toward the north, where the president of the USA was hidden in some bunker, waiting out the catastrophe.

To the south, a cartel was expanding, hoping to consume South America completely.

To the eastern continents, more factions were rising.

But all of them were fighting for their own gain, their own dreams.

But what about Andres's dream?

He told me about it once.

His ideal world, a world of love, of peace.

For the strong not just to defend the weak, but for the weak to defend the strong.

A world united.

Now, here was that opportunity to make it happen with Andres's name.

How many could be saved by these ideas of a child, not even a quarter of the way through life—just ramblings I remembered from back then…?

Without another thought, I reached out, hoping to grab hold of that future.

For The Record

So, for the record, this is going to be my journal. All of my deepest, darkest secrets will go in here.

Nah, not really. So how do I start out? Let's see, if you're seeing this, either it means you're someone close to me and you got this after my death, or I went missing because something happened to me, or you're some creep looking at a 15-year-old's diary. Bad creep, go away.

So let's rewind and start from the beginning.

The name is Andres Mondragon. I'm just some average kid you would walk by every day to school or work. There's nothing really special about me, no crazy hair color or some weird talent for science or an incredibly strong body. No, I'm none of that. I'm just average. Enough about me.

In vivid detail, I went through it all.

The Calamity on Earth.
The Deal.
Beacon.
The White Fang... and what they did to me.
Kakariko.
Adam, him nearly killing me.
Reconnecting with Clover, training on the Yellow Brick Road.
Silverkeep.
All of it, every single detail up to this point.

After all of this, Paarthurnax and I had a talk about why this deal is happening.

It's to face the gods, to kill them, for they are the ones who sent Paarthurnax to Earth to extinguish the flames of life.

Paarthurnax and I... well, we made a deal to take them on together. I have my doubts because these are gods, but I must have faith and hope that we can. I need to protect my planet and my family, future and present. There's also the chance Paarthurnax is lying. I'll keep my eyes open.

As I left the town, I gave Coco the message that is for Ozpin. Hopefully, everything in my plan works out, but you can only hope.

The people of Silverkeep, as gratitude, got me a thigh pouch for my valuables. No, not for my balls, my Scales.

Elixir, the new mayor of Silverkeep, got me this journal and gave me a name.

My alias.

Ryuu.

Stronger than a dragon.

The final thing is that an old man stopped me before I left completely. He gave me a map and a yellow-gemmed amulet and said to follow the map. It would lead to a Monastery where the Aura Monks live, and with the amulet, I would have a chance to learn from them.

Yes, it will take some time, but if I learn new moves like Aura Plan or how to eat Dust without any side effects, then it's decently worth it. Right now, I'm stronger than I have ever been before, but it still doesn't compare to people like Adam and Ebony, who have years of experience.

I have to close that power gap with something, either power from the Monks or the Scale Paarthurnax gave me, but I can’t do this by myself. I will need help along the way. That's where the message comes into play.

Day 40 of 730 Before Earth’s Death

It had been five days since I left Silverkeep.

Five days of running and walking, turning every single stupid thing on the road into training because I couldn’t just travel like a normal person anymore.

I could have reached the Monastery on day one, but as I headed down a different road that wasn't the yellow brick road, I'm not kidding, I kept having to save people.

Broken-down cars or other bullshit, or some runaway kids sneaking out of the nearby settlement getting pounced on by Grimm.

Even sometimes settlements would have a Grimm horde at their gates, not nearly as big as Silverkeep, but big enough to overwhelm the smaller villages and towns.

I was around two hundred and twenty-nine miles away from Konoha now, and the Monastery was finally close.

Not close enough that I could see it yet, but close enough that I could feel it sitting somewhere ahead of me like a giant stone hand waiting to crush me.

For the last few days, I had been running for three hours straight every morning.

Not jogging.

Running.

Aura made that possible. Without it, my legs would have probably snapped like dry sticks, but with Aura flowing through my body, I could move way faster than normal.

Before, when I first got Aura, I was 3 times my usual speed. Now, I'm around 10 times, maybe more.

I wasn’t exactly carrying a speedometer, but I knew one thing for sure.

I was fucking fast.

I zipped by trees and the other people on the branch road.

Turns out, the faster you go, the more people you see, and the more people you see that need help.

And now I could tell people my name instead of lying terribly.

I think my alias, Ryuu, is getting bigger.

Oh, and since leaving Silverkeep, I had also been using my Semblance every chance I got. When I first recovered from Semblance Exhaustion, my Threads could barely hold my longsword without shaking like wet noodles. Now, they were strong enough to lift all my weapons at once.

It was better than before, but still garbage compared to the first time.

I needed it to grow faster.

So, every time I passed a tree, I attacked it with a Thread whip.

The first day, the Threads barely scratched the bark.

Now, they could cut about a quarter of the way through the trunk.

That sounded impressive until I remembered there were people in this world who could throw fire, control metal, cut bullets out of the air, and probably kill me with their minds if they felt like it.

So yeah.

Not good enough.

Whenever I found a Grimm, I would test my Semblance against them, well, not all the time...

Most of the time, if it was just an Alpha Beowolf or an Alpha Ursa, I used it as training.

Not in the weird “I tamed a monster” kind of way. More like I let it try to murder me while I practiced dodging, blocking, Aura Palm, and this new Thread shield I had been working on.

Calling it a shield was honestly generous.

It was more like a sad spiderweb that wanted to be useful someday.

Keep it up, kid, you'll grow up fast.

Still, I kept using it.

I kept putting myself in dangerous situations because danger was the only teacher that didn’t waste time.

Every Grimm I passed, I killed.

Maybe that was a waste of time. Maybe it slowed me down. Paarthurnax would call me an idiot for wasting energy on random monsters instead of focusing on the Queen of Grimm.

But if I walked past a Grimm and that same Grimm later killed some kid who wandered too far from their village?

That would be on me.

I couldn’t carry another body in my head.

I already had enough.

So I killed them.

Every single one.

And, little by little, I got better at it. I learned how Beowolves twisted their shoulders before lunging.

I learned how Ursas lowered their heads before charging. I learned how Grimm didn’t fight like animals.

They fought like hatred wearing skin.

The strongest one I had run into so far was an Alpha Beowolf, excluding the Alpha Death Stalker from Silverkeep.

Except this one wasn’t like the others.

It wasn’t huge.

It wasn’t bulky.

It was small and fast.

Way too fast.

The first time it moved, it nearly took my head off.

One second, it was in front of me, growling with those burning red eyes, and the next, its claws were scraping across my Aura hard enough to send sparks flying.

I thought I was going to die.

And I saw a training opportunity.

I fought that thing for two hours.

Two whole hours of dodging, redirecting, blocking, and nearly being sliced apart.

My lungs burned. My arms shook. My legs screamed every time I jumped back from its claws.

But slowly, I started seeing it.

The pattern.

The rhythm.

The way its weight shifted before each dash.

The way it always aimed for my throat when I looked tired.

The way it hated being denied.

To most people, training with something trying to kill you would sound insane.

It was.

But I needed to get strong fast.

I couldn’t just walk up to the Witch the way I was now and expect to win. This wasn’t some game where I could die, respawn, and try again.

But it kind of felt like Sekiro or Bloodborne.

You either got stronger, learned the boss, or got destroyed.

And this was my first playthrough.

No guides.

No second chances.

When I finally had enough, I wrapped my Threads around the Alpha’s legs.

The Grimm hit the dirt hard, snapping and thrashing like a rabid dog. It glared at me, its jaws opening wide for one last roar.

I made a spear out of Threads.

It was flimsy.

Ugly.

Barely holding its shape.

But it was enough.

I launched it straight into the monster’s mouth.

The spear punched through the back of its throat, and the Alpha Beowolf went still.

Then it started burning away into black smoke.

I stood there, breathing hard, sweat dripping down my face.

“That,” I muttered, “was some good experience.”

After that, I added another exercise.

Tree jumping.

At least one hour a day, I climbed into the forest and jumped from branch to branch while heading toward the Monastery or wherever I heard a scream or saw an emergency flare.

I now know for sure that the further you get from a kingdom, the more Grimm attacks there are.

Mostly not on the yellow brick road.

Well, it's all training, even saving people, escorting them to the settlement, even running away from some huntsmen with a stick up their ass asking me about my Grimm license.

I needed better balance.

Better speed.

Better hand-eye coordination.

I decided tree travel was the best way to practice all three.

Just so everyone knows, jumping through trees is nothing like Naruto.

It sucks.

There are branches everywhere. They slap you in the face. They catch your clothes. They hide vines in the worst places possible. I got tangled twice and nearly hung upside down like an idiot because I misjudged a jump.

Definitely the kind of thing legends are made of.

Still, it worked.

The training was intense, but I couldn’t deny the results. Most of the fat on my body was gone now.

My muscles were sharper, harder, more defined. My breathing recovered faster. My body moved easier.

For the first time in my life, I actually looked like someone who trained.

And by how quickly I lost the fat, you'd expect sagging or loose skin, but I think Aura fixed that before it could become a problem.

Right now, it was evening.

The sun was sinking low behind the trees, painting the forest in dark orange light. Long shadows stretched in the forest I entered. It had no road, nothing to tell me this monastery was even here, and the air had that cold edge that came right before night.

I should have been setting up camp.

Instead, I was fighting five Boarbatusks.

One of them rolled at me first, curling into a spiked ball and tearing through the dirt like an angry tire from hell.

I saw an opportunity.

I snapped my hand up and created a Thread ramp in front of it.

The Boarbatusk hit the ramp, shot upward, and flew right over my head. Its stomach was completely exposed.

I pulled out my revolver and fired twice.

Both bullets sank into its belly.

The Grimm hit the ground behind me and dissolved before it could even squeal.

“Wow,” I said, lowering the gun. “They go down easy when you actually know where to hit.”

Two more charged me from the front, side by side.

I drew my sword, pushed Aura through the blade, and swung.

The Aura slash tore forward in a bright arc.

Both Boarbatusks, armor and all, split apart and vanished into black dust.

The last two stopped circling.

Their red eyes locked on me. The wind moved through the grass.

“Oh shit,” I whispered. “Mexican standoff.”

One of them snorted.

I shot it in the face.

The bullet didn’t kill it, but it cracked its bone mask.

The Boarbatusk screamed.

Then it curled into a ball and came at me in a blind rage.

I grinned.

“Perfect.”

Threads shot from my fingers, twisting together in front of the charging Grimm. This time, I didn’t make a ramp.

I made a track.

A terrible, rickety, barely stable Thread track.

It looked like something from Hot Wheels if the designer had no idea what safety regulations were.

The Boarbatusk hit the track and spun around me in a wild curve. The Threads groaned under the pressure, but they held just long enough to redirect it.

Straight into the other Boarbatusk.

The impact sounded like a car crash.

Bone cracked.

The second Boarbatusk was launched sideways, tumbling across the dirt in a mess of legs and spikes.

The first one skidded to a stop, its damaged mask breaking apart completely.

Then it froze.

It started shaking.

Its whole body trembled like it had just realized something horrible.

At first, I thought it was going berserk.

Then black smoke started leaking out of its face.

The Grimm collapsed, twitching and evaporating into nothing.

I blinked.

“The fuck?”

I stared at the place where it had been.

“They die when you destroy the mask?”

Why wasn't this in the Grimm encyclopedia? Whoever published it needs to be removed.

The last Boarbatusk was still alive, but dazed from getting hit by its friend at thirty miles per hour.

I lifted my hand.

My Threads responded.

I summoned my current limit. Around 700 came out at once instead of the tens of thousands I had before.

I weaved them together into a spear beneath the Grimm.

It took focus to hold the shape. The weapon trembled like it wanted to fall apart, but I forced more Aura through it, making it a bit stronger.

The Thread spear shot upward.

It stabbed into the Boarbatusk’s exposed stomach.

Not impaled.

Stabbed.

There was a difference.

The Grimm shrieked and kicked, but it didn’t die.

I clicked my tongue.

“Seriously?”

I retracted the spear and slammed it into the same spot again.

Still alive.

I stabbed it again.

Still alive.

Again.

Still alive.

“Die already!”

Three more strikes finally did it.

The Boarbatusk dissolved into smoke, leaving me standing alone in the road with my arm raised and my Threads shaking in the air.

I banished them, disappointed at how weak they still were.

I stared at the forest. Somewhere in it was the Monastery, and I sighed.

“Dammit,” I muttered. “Get stronger already.”

Both my Semblance and me.

The forest went quiet again.

Just me, the road, and the Monastery somewhere ahead.

I rolled my shoulders, checked my weapons, and started walking.

That fight should have been done in seconds, not in a minute.

As I walked through the forest, I came upon a small trail leading somewhere. It looked like the forest had been eating it for years.

Roots cracked through the path. Grass covered half the trail. Branches hung low enough to scratch my face if I wasn’t paying attention.

The air even felt quieter here, like people had stopped coming this way a long time ago.

I really hoped Konoha was still standing when I got there.

That thought had been bothering me for a while.

The last two towns I had gone to had both nearly been destroyed while I was there.

Silverkeep had the Apathy.

Kakariko had the White Fang coup.

Two times could be a coincidence.

Three times?

That was a pattern.

And if it was a pattern, then either someone was following me, or someone was attacking Vale’s Main hub Settlement for a reason I didn’t understand yet.

I wasn’t enough of a narcissist to believe every disaster happened because of me.

That sounded stupid. The world didn’t revolve around me.

But the more I thought about Ebony and Lien, the less random everything felt.

They were both different kinds of monsters, but they had one thing in common.

Someone had pointed them in the right direction.

Maybe there was an organization behind the scenes. Maybe someone was moving people around like chess pieces, weakening Vale’s outer defenses one settlement at a time.

If that was true, then this journey was only going to get harder.

Dammit, Because apparently saving Earth wasn’t already difficult enough.

I pulled out the Monastery map and checked it again. According to the little trail markings, I was only thirty miles away now.

Thirty miles.

That was nothing.

Well, not nothing. My legs were screaming. My back hurt. My Aura felt like it had been chewed on by a pack of angry dogs.

But compared to how far I had already gone, thirty miles felt close.

If the Monastery really was as powerful as people said, then maybe they could actually teach me something useful.

True Aura.

Dust control.

Real martial arts.

Things that might stop me from getting folded like a chair every time someone with actual training looked in my direction.

A black bird flew over the trees.

I stopped walking and looked up.

There it was again.

Same dark wings. Same lazy glide. Same annoying feeling that it knew exactly where I was going.

I narrowed my eyes.

“Seriously,” I muttered, “I’m pretty sure I’ve seen that bird before.”

I hadn’t gotten a good look at it yet, but I think It was following me.

Or maybe I was going insane, which honestly would not be shocking at this point.

The sky was getting darker anyway, so I decided not to waste time staring at a bird like some paranoid idiot.

It was time to climb a tree and hope nothing saw me.

I picked one with a thick branch high enough off the ground, climbed up, shoved my backpack behind my head, and laid down with a groan.

My whole body hated me. It hates the training I've been giving it and all the fihtitng.

About 30% of my day is fighting, helping people, or killing any Grimm I come across.

I rested my head on my stolen backpack.I still felt bad for whoever it belonged to.

“Sorry, random Beacon student,” I whispered. “Your bag is serving a noble purpose.”

I closed my eyes.

No sleep, No peace.

No Mr. Sandman.

Just me lying on a tree branch in the middle of a creepy forest, waiting for my brain to finally shut up.

After a few minutes of staring at the back of my eyelids, I sighed and summoned my Semblance.

Thin red Threads slipped from my fingers and moved through the air like living wires.

Using them was getting easier.

Not easy.

But easier.

The more I used my Semblance, the more unconscious it became. At first, controlling even one Thread felt like trying to move a finger I never had before. Now it felt almost natural. Like an extra limb.

I had also learned a lot about it on the road.

For one, my theory was right.

My Threads could hurt things without Aura.

I tested it on a rabbit with a Thread spear.

And yes, before anyone judges me, I ate good that night.

Second, my Threads didn’t weigh anything unless I made them weigh something.

They could float, bend, twist, stretch, and wrap around things with almost no effort.

They don't even use me as leverage; only their tensile strength determines how much they can carry.

Third, they were strong, But not unbreakable.

An Alpha Ursa taught me that lesson by ripping through one like it was dental floss.

And finally, my semblance has a default type of thread, it's the size of normal thread used in shirts and clothes.

I could make it larger or as small as a razor edge, but it takes more energy from me, so I don't normally use them if I don't have to.

I kept moving the Threads around until my eyes finally started getting heavy. The soft pressure in my head told me I was close to sleep.

Finally.

I let my breathing slow. Then everything went white.

Not black.

White.

I opened my eyes inside an endless empty void.

There was no sky.

No ground.

No trees.

No pain.

Just white stretching forever.

For a second, I almost smiled.

No nightmare.

For once, I wasn’t back in the gym. I wasn’t watching dragons tear people apart. I wasn’t hearing Selina scream. I wasn’t seeing Noah standing in front of Paarthurnax showing me what a real hero is.

Just quiet.

Silence.

…

Then I heard laughing.

A child’s laugh.

My heart stopped.

I knew that laugh.

“Ezekiel?”

I jolted upright and spun around, searching the white emptiness.

The laugh came again, echoing from everywhere and nowhere.

My nephew.

That was my nephew.

“Ezekiel!” I shouted.

Nothing answered.

I started walking.

Then running.

There was nowhere to run to, but I ran anyway.

I had been trying so hard not to think about it, but the truth hit me hard enough to knock the air out of my chest.

I was forgetting their faces.

Only a month had passed, and I was already forgetting little details.

The exact shape of my mom’s smile.

The way Noah’s hair looked when he didn’t fix it.

The color of Selina’s eyes in sunlight.

Ezekiel’s face.

My baby nephew’s face.

Someone I practically raised. I held him in my arms looking at his face as he slept or played with my fingers.

Panic clawed up my throat.

“No, no, no, come on,” I whispered. “Let me see him.”

If this was a dream, then fine.

Let it be a dream.

Let it be fake.

I didn’t care.

If I had even one chance to see one of their faces again, I would take it.

I would do almost anything.

The laugh came again.

Closer.

I turned sharply.

Nothing.

The white void stayed empty.

Frustration burned through me. Then anger. Hot, stupid, helpless anger that had nowhere to go.

“Where are you?!”

The heat of it jolted through my body.

And then I woke up.

My eyes snapped open.

I was back in the tree.

Dark forest.

Cold air.

Heavy fog.

My chest was rising and falling too fast.

“Dammit,” I whispered.

I rubbed my face hard.

“I just wanted to see his face.”

The forest was quiet. I tried to close my eyes again.

Then the laugh came from below.

Real.

Close.

My blood turned cold.

I sat up so fast I almost fell off the branch.

The laugh rang through the fog again.

A little boy’s laugh.

Ezekiel’s laugh.

“What?”

I grabbed my backpack, pulled it tight over my shoulders, and dropped from the tree.

I landed hard, one hand touching the dirt.

“Ezekiel?” I called.

The fog moved between the trees like smoke.

I turned in a slow circle, trying to figure out where the sound came from.

No.

No way.

He couldn’t be here.

Unless Paarthurnax—

My jaw clenched.

I reached for the mental connection between us

Nothing.

“Paarthurnax,” I thought.

Nothing.

“Paarthurnax, answer me.”

Still nothing.

My anger spiked.

“If you brought Ezekiel into this world,” I growled under my breath, “I’m going to kill you.”

The laugh came again.

Farther ahead.

I moved toward it, running through the fog.

“Ezekiel!”

The trees blurred around me. The fog was getting thicker, wrapping around everything until I could barely see ten feet ahead.

“Goddammit, where are you?” I snapped. “Stupid forest fog, go away!”

I was about to pick a random direction when a small figure stepped out from behind a tree.

My heart broke.

Ezekiel.

He stood there with that little smile on his face, laughing and pointing at me like I had just done something stupid.

I didn’t think.

I ran.

“Ezekiel!”

I dropped to my knees and reached for him.

My arms passed straight through his body.

My hands closed on empty air.

“What?”

The image of my nephew flickered.

His face blurred.

His smile faded.

Then he started disappearing like smoke.

“No, no, wait—”

Pain exploded behind my eyes.

I screamed and fell to the ground, clutching my head.

It felt like something had shoved claws through my skull and started digging around inside my brain.

Images flashed behind my eyes.

Adam’s mask.

Coal’s smile.

Ebony’s glare.

The green-haired woman.

Dovoca the dragon I killed.

Paarthurnax’s teeth.

My own face.

Then the pain vanished.

Just like that.

I was on my knees, breathing hard, one hand pressed into the dirt.

The forest had gone completely silent.

Not peaceful silent.

Predator silent.

Like every living thing nearby had sensed something worse than itself and decided breathing was too loud.

Then I heard footsteps.

Heavy, Slow, Wet.

I looked up.

Something came out of the fog.

It was ten feet tall, maybe more, and shaped almost like the Mind Flayer from Stranger Things if someone had dragged it through a Grimm pit and covered it in bone armor.

White plates ran over its body in jagged strips. Black mist leaked from holes along its neck and shoulders with every breath.

Its arms were too long. Its fingers dragged against the ground. Its body twitched like it was having trouble deciding what shape it wanted to be.

Then its face opened.

Six flaps peeled apart like a flower made of nightmares.

Inside was nothing but teeth.

Rows and rows of thin, wet, needle-like teeth.

I slowly stood and pulled out my longsword.

“Fucking hell,” I whispered. “You are ugly.”

My headache was gone, but my stomach felt cold.

What was this Grimm?

I hadn’t seen anything like it in the encyclopedia.

I hate that damn book.

The Grimm tilted its open face toward me.

I tightened my grip on my sword.

“Fine.”

I ran at it.

My blade cut straight through its body.

For half a second, I thought I had killed it.

Then the thing split apart into fog.

Just like Ezekiel.

I stumbled through the fading image and turned around.

“An illusion.”

The realization hit.

Then the anger followed.

My hands shook around the sword.

“You used his voice?”

My Threads started rising around me without permission.

“You made me think my nephew was here?”

The fog thickened.

I couldn’t see the creature anymore.

“Oh, I’m going to kill you.”

I raised my hand and sent hundreds of Threads in every direction, spreading them through the fog like a radar field.

Anything that touched them, I could feel.

That was another thing I had learned.

My Threads worked like an extra sense.

I could feel pressure through them. Movement. Texture. Direction.

Not pain, thank the Lord, but enough to know when something was near me.

The Threads stretched through the fog.

Then they touched something.

Several things.

In front of me.

Humans.

I froze.

“No.”

My first thought was the green-haired woman.

If that psycho was back, I was going to—

Footsteps moved through the fog.

A shape appeared.

Then another.

Then another.

Adam Taurus stepped out first.

My breathing stopped.

The red hair, The Grimm mask., The sword.

The presence.

No.

No, no, no.

Behind him came Coal.

Then Ebony.

Then the green-haired woman.

My chest tightened so hard it hurt.

“No,” I whispered. “Coal’s dead.”

I killed him.

Ebony was in prison.

I saw the Huntsmen take her away.

The green-haired woman shouldn’t know where I was.

Adam shouldn’t know where I was.

None of them should be here.

The fog shifted again.

A fifth figure stepped out.

Me.

Or something wearing my face.

Same clothes, weapons, eyes.

I stared at my copy, confused and disgusted.

“What the hell?”

I understood the others.

I feared Adam.

I feared Ebony.

I feared the green-haired woman.

Coal was dead, but I still remembered the chair, the water, the helplessness.

But me?

My copy didn’t move.

It just stood there, staring.

My heart pounded.

“No,” I said, forcing myself to breathe. “They’re illusions.”

The Grimm had gotten into my head. That headache must have been it digging through my memories and fears.

“They’re not real.”

I stepped forward.

Adam drew his sword.

I kept walking.

“Not real.”

The others raised their weapons.

I kept walking.

Adam vanished.

My body reacted before my brain did.

I fell backward.

A red slash cut through the air above my face.

If I had stayed standing, it would have taken my head off or most of my aura in one strike.

I hit the ground hard.

My confidence shattered.

Adam stood over me.

His blade hummed.

My mouth went dry.

“No way.”

I scrambled up and tried again, forcing myself forward.

“It’s fake.”

Adam swung.

This time I didn’t dodge.

Because it was supposed to pass through me.

It didn’t.

The blade slammed into my chest and sent me skidding backward through the dirt.

Pain cracked through my ribs.

My Aura flared.

My eyes went wide.

“Oh, they’re real.”

All of them moved at once.

“Shit!”

I threw out dozens of Thread needles in every direction.

The needles pierced Coal, Ebony, the green-haired woman, and one Adam across the chest.

The second the Threads hit them, their bodies flickered.

Then they dissolved.

One hit.

Thank God.

I exhaled hard.

“If you guys took more than one hit,” I said, “I would be so dead.”

I didn’t wait around to test that theory.

I ran.

The fog swallowed me almost immediately.

I couldn’t see three yards ahead.

“I hate this Grimm,” I hissed. “I am so going to kill it.”

I kept moving with one hand out, sword in the other.

Then I slammed face-first into a low branch.

Pain exploded across my nose.

“Mother—!”

I stumbled back, clutching my face.

“Okay. Calm down. Calm down.”

If I panicked, actual Grimm would come.

And fighting normal Grimm in this fog sounded like a horrible way to die.

I closed my eyes and started breathing.

Then I heard footsteps.

A lot of them.

“Dammit.”

I opened my eyes.

The fog thinned just enough for me to see them.

Dozens.

Adams.

Ebonys.

Coals.

Green-haired women.

Copies of me.

All standing around me in a wide circle.

My copy still didn’t move, The rest did.

“I have a really bad feeling about this.”

They attacked.

I released Thread needles and started cutting them down as fast as I could.

One hit destroyed each shadow, but there were too many.

They came from every direction.

Adam was the worst.

Every copy of him moved like the real one.

Fast, Clean, Brutal.

His blade kept slipping past my guard and biting into my Aura. The others were slower, weaker, easier to read, but they still hit hard when they got close.

Coal was weak as hell, though.

Which made sense.

I killed him before I even had Aura.

My brain really didn’t respect him.

That thought distracted me for half a second.

A Shadow Adam appeared in front of me and uppercut me hard enough to lift me off the ground.

The world flipped.

Before I could recover, he grabbed my leg midair and slammed me face-first into the dirt.

Pain burst through my skull.

“Oh God,” I groaned. “So this is how Loki felt.”

Then they were on me.

Kicking.

Punching.

Stabbing.

Slashing.

Stomping.

I curled up, trying to protect my head, but there were too many. Every strike cracked against my Aura until it started flickering.

Then Ebony stepped forward.

Both hatchets came down on my chest.

My Aura shattered.

The sound was like glass breaking inside my soul.

“Goddammit!”

Panic surged through me.

I released everything.

A thousand of Threads erupted from my body in every direction.

The shadows within ten feet were shredded instantly, their bodies popping into smoke one after another.

For one second, I had space.

I pushed myself up on shaking legs. My Aura was gone.

The shadows backed away slightly.

Not because they were scared, but because they knew I was tired.

Then they started closing in again.

I lifted my sword with both hands. My grip was unsteady.

But I stayed standing.

“This will not be my end.”

A footstep sounded behind the shadows.

Then a wave of fire tore through the fog.

Not a small fireball.

A river of flame.

It roared across the ground, bright orange and gold, hot enough that I felt it thirty feet away. The shadows tried to dodge, but the fire consumed them before they could move.

I turned toward the source.

An old bald man stood in the fog.

He wore orange and yellow robes, with a bead necklace hanging around his neck and a long mustache flowing from his face. His posture was calm. His eyes were sharp.

Also, he had just breathed fire like a dragon.

“Yes,” I muttered. “Saved by plot armor.”

The man stopped the fire and looked at me.

“Boy!” he shouted. “Come! Hurry before more of them arrive!”

I did not need to be told twice.

I ran.

When I got within five feet, he turned and started running too.

More shadows came out of the fog as we moved.

Let me tell you something.

Fighting while running is hard.

Fighting while running through fog, with no Aura, while copies of people who traumatized you keep trying to murder you?

Very hard.

I slashed one shadow. He burned three. I threw needles at another. He kicked one away with a burst of flame from his palm.

Then a bright green light flashed ahead.

It rose through the fog in a familiar shape.

Like Paarthurnax’s Fire Blast.

My eyes went wide.

“Holy shit, no.”

The old man stopped and raised his guard.

That was not going to help.

I shoved the small bits of aura I regenerated into my legs.

“Move!”

I grabbed the old man around the waist and threw both of us sideways.

A green inferno tore through the space where we had been standing.

The heat ripped across my back.

“Ow!”

I rolled across the dirt and forced myself up.

Two shapes appeared through the fog.

One was a green dragon.

Dovoca.

The other was massive.

So massive Dovoca looked like a chihuahua standing next to a pit bull.

Paarthurnax.

My stomach dropped.

“Dammit.”

If those things were as strong as the originals, we were dead.

I didn’t wait to find out.

Two Thread needles shot from my fingers.

They struck both dragons.

Their bodies flickered.

Then they dissolved into fog.

I let out a breath.

“Good.”

Even fake dragon trauma died in one hit.

The old man stared where the dragons had been and started saying a prayer.

I blinked at him.

“The fuck?”

No time for that.

I grabbed his sleeve and dragged him forward.

“Run now, pray later!”

That seemed to snap him out of it.

He started running on his own.

We kept going for another minute before the fog finally broke apart.

The air cleared.

The trees opened.

And suddenly, we were out.

I stumbled to a stop, breathing hard.

“Whoa.”

No fog.

Just cold night air and the distant sound of normal forest insects returning like they had all been waiting for permission to exist again.

I looked back at the wall of fog behind us.

“Let’s keep running,” I said. “I don’t want that thing getting close to us again.”

Seriously.

That Grimm was terrifying.

The shadows were bad enough, but the fact it could pull out people and dragons I feared most?

That was cheating.

Why couldn’t I be scared of something normal?

Like a tiny dog?

A really angry tiny dog would have been way easier to deal with than Shadow Adam and Shadow Paarthurnax.

The old man nodded.

“A wise decision. Follow me. I know a safe location.”

I followed, but my mom’s teachings about strangers suddenly came back to me.

So I asked the important question.

“You’re not taking me to your house to do diddle me, right?”

The old man stopped dead.

He turned and stared at me with pure disgust.

“What? No. Of course not. I am a man of morals, and I stick to them.”

I relaxed.

“Cool. Me too.”

Yup.

Good guy.

If he had stayed quiet, I would have run.

The old man blinked at me, then gave a small smile.

“Another strong-willed fellow, then. That is a good quality to have.”

See, Mom?

Being stubborn about your morals was a good quality.

We kept moving until the fog was far behind us and the forest felt less like it wanted to digest me.

Only then did I finally slow down.

My body was starting to realize it should be dead tired.

The old man looked calm.

Annoyingly calm.

I glanced at him.

“Hey, gramps. Who are you?”

He brushed his long mustache with one hand.

“Gramps?” he repeated. “Do I truly look that old?”

He said it jokingly.

I liked him already.

People who acted like emotionless statues were not my crowd.

“The bald head kind of makes you look older,” I said.

He smiled.

“Perhaps it does. Maybe I should acquire a wig to hide my age, as some women do.”

I burst out laughing.

The old man chuckled.

“Ah, yes. Your question. My name is Gyatso.”

I stopped laughing.

Gyatso.

Did I hear that right?

Like Aang’s airbending master from The Last Airbender?

Seriously, why did this world keep having references?

At least he didn’t have blue arrows on his body.

But the references usually meant something. People with familiar names tended to be similar in some way.

So I asked, “Are you a monk?”

I would bet five hundred Lien right now.

That's all my money, but I'm a gambling man, like how my ancestors would have wanted me.

Gyatso looked surprised.

“Yes. How did you know?”

Called it.

I would like my money by Tuesday, or I’m going to ask “Where’s my money?” Stewie style.

I decided to go with the truth.

“Otherworldly knowledge.”

Gyatso stared at me.

I kept going.

“Are you from the Monastery?”

His expression sharpened.

“Yes. And how do you know we exist?”

The way he said it made me tense a little, but not enough to be scared.

“Wait,” I said. “People don’t know you exist?”

I mean, Clover knew.

That old man in Silverkeep knew.

Maybe they were special cases.

Then Gyatso’s serious face broke into a playful smile.

“No, I'm only messing with you.”

I stared.

He laughed softly.

“Everyone knows of us, but only a few actually believe we exist this far from civilization.”

I sighed.

“Wow. Okay. You got me.”

At least he had a sense of humor.

“So we’re going to the Monastery?”

“Yes,” Gyatso said. “Why do you ask?”

I pulled out the yellow amulet and held it up.

“I have this.”

His expression changed immediately.

Recognition.

Acceptance.

“An Amulet of Worthiness,” he said. “Interesting.”

Is that what it's called…

“Good interesting or bad interesting?”

“That depends on you.”

Yup, no real answers, just more maybes.

You know, I'm starting to think wisdom isn't knowing the answer but being in that maybe limbo so you're never wrong.

Gyatso gestured forward.

“You will rest tonight. Once you recover, we will test you.”

“Cool,” I said. “So what’s the test?”

“Something you will discover soon.”

I groaned.

“Why can’t people just give answers without the dramatic nonsense?”

Gyatso’s smile widened.

“You will find many people enjoy dramatic nonsense.”

… I could see that happening.

But to me, it's so annoying.

I walked beside him, still tired, still sore, but now wide awake.

If I passed this test, I needed to know what I was getting.

“So if I do pass,” I asked, “what will you teach me?”

Gyatso’s humor faded into something more serious.

“The basics of Aura. How to use your body to manipulate Dust. How to strengthen your mind. Some martial arts maybe even True Aura.”

“That already sounds amazing.”

“If you truly wish to become one of us,” he continued, “then we may teach you the ancient arts.”

Ancient arts.

That sounded cool and powerful.

“What’s True Aura?”

Please say Super Saiyan.

Gyatso spoke like he had answered this question a hundred times.

“True Aura is a purer concretion of Aura. It allows the body and soul to move beyond their ordinary limits. Strength, endurance, perception, control. All can be increased.”

So basically Super Saiyan.

Awesome.

“And Dust manipulation?” I asked. “Because I’ve kind of done that before with Fire Dust.”

Gyatso stopped walking for half a second and looked at me.

“You have?”

“Yeah.”

“Without training?”

“It was an accident.”

He studied me with more interest now.

“Then congratulations. You have taken the first step without guidance. How did it feel?”

Wow.

A compliment.

Let me mentally shower in that for a second.

I didn’t get those often.

“It felt like my whole body was on fire,” I said. “It hurt like a bitch.”

Just remembering the pain made my body shiver.

Gyatso nodded with understanding.

“Yes. The first experience can be nearly unbearable.”

“Why did you accidently use the fire Dust?”

Right to the point.

I liked that.

There was no point hiding it, honestly. If he was going to test me, he might as well know what kind of idiot he was dealing with.

“Silverkeep was being attacked by a massive horde of Grimm,” I said. “And like an idiot, I ate Fire Dust.”

Gyatso lifted one brow.

“You…ate fire dust… I see, your are a far bigger idiot than I imagined”

Wait, you guys don't do that? Then why the fuck was I recommended here?

“It was on accident.” I defended myself. I thought it was energy powder who throws literal napalm at someone expecting them to catch it.

Dammit Yatsuhashi, you're making me look like an idiot.

“It was stupid. But it helped. People lived because of it.”

Gyatso looked ahead into the dark road.

“Protecting people, even through foolish means, can still be honorable.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. So I said nothing.

After a moment, he added, “I do hope you pass our test.”

I glanced at him.

“You do?”

“Yes.”

His eyes moved to me, calm but certain.

“For some reason, I do not believe you will need luck.”

You barely know me.

Do you not watch me almost get killed by fog shadows and fake dragons.

And somehow, he already believed I could pass.

I looked away before my face did something stupid.

“Thanks,” I muttered.

Why couldn’t my dad be like him?

I didn’t reply after that.

Mostly because I didn’t know what to say.

Gyatso had said it like it was obvious I wouldn’t need luck, and for some reason, that bothered me more than if he had insulted me.

I was used to people doubting me. Coco and her team did that with me until I proved myself saving their ass.

I was used to people using me, fearing me, or expecting me to magically fix everything.

But believing in me?

That was weird.

So instead of saying anything stupid, I just kept walking.

We moved through the forest for a while longer until the trees finally opened up. The ground dipped ahead of us into a shallow valley, and at the bottom of it was a bridge.

I stopped for a second.

The bridge wasn’t rickety.

It wasn’t broken.

It wasn’t covered in moss or half-rotted wood like every other creepy bridge in a fantasy forest should have been.

No.

It looked perfect.

Smooth pale stone stretched across the valley, each piece fitted together so cleanly I couldn’t even see the cracks between them.

There were no support beams, no ropes, no nails. Just one long, beautiful curve of stone reaching from one side of the valley to the other like someone had carved it out of moonlight.

“Damn,” I muttered.

Whoever built this thing knew what they were doing.

I wanted to learn from them.

Behind the bridge was a mountain, and sitting near the top of it was a mansion.

No.

Not a mansion.

That word didn’t feel right.

It was too clean. Too peaceful. Too ancient.

It looked like a monastery pretending to be a palace.

The building sat against the mountain like it had grown there instead of being built. Its walls were deep blue, with gold trimming on every roof edge, window frame, and corner.

The gold caught the last bit of moonlight and shimmered softly, not like rich-people gold trying to scream, look how important I am, but like something sacred.

Beautiful, Quiet, Powerful.

Yeah.

I loved this place already.

We crossed the bridge, and my boots clicked against the stone with every step. The sound echoed through the valley below us.

For the first time in days, I didn’t hear Grimm growling in the dark or trees creaking like something was stalking me.

Just the wind.

Just the bridge.

Just my own breathing.

Then we started climbing the stairs.

There were a lot of stairs.

Of course there were.

Every magical mountain place needed stairs. 

By the time we reached the top, my legs were tired again, which was honestly disrespectful because I had been running for days. The Monastery stood right in front of us now, larger than it looked from below.

A gate blocked the entrance.

I stepped closer and studied it.

It was made of smooth gray stone, tall but not ridiculous. It didn’t look like a war gate. No spikes. No murder holes for archers. No giant metal bars to crush people.

Still, there was something weird about it.

Something mystical.

Carvings covered the surface, twisting through the stone like vines or rivers. In the center of the gate was a blue gem set into the rock.

Gyatso walked up to the gate and pulled out an amulet. It had a bright yellow gem in the middle, just like mine.

Except his looked way better.

Mine looked like the starter version.

His looked like the upgraded legendary version after you beat the secret boss.

He placed the yellow amulet against the blue gem.

For a second, nothing happened.

Then the carvings lit up green.

I took one step back.

“Whoa.”

The glow spread through the gate like blood moving through veins. The stone hummed softly, low and deep, and then the entire gate opened by itself.

No grinding.

No shaking.

No ancient-door drama.

It just opened smoothly like it had been waiting for him.

Behind it was a courtyard. People walked by giving us a passing glance before minding their own business.

What I noticed was they had hair…

So bald, is just Gyatso style, I was prepared to shave my head if necessary to join.

Stone paths curved through patches of grass and small trees with silver leaves. Lanterns burned with soft blue fire along the walls.

A fountain sat in the middle, water flowing silently from the mouth of a carved dragon.

Of course there was a two dragon.

One made of white light and the other pure darkness.

I swear this world had a theme.

And that was a probably the twin gods…

They must be actual religious symbols here, people worship them.

On Earth, I never heard of them on earth.

Gyatso stepped through the gate.

“Come in… ahhh.”

He stopped.

Then he turned around with an embarrassed look on his face.

“I apologize. I never asked your name. What is it?”

Oh.

Right.

That was actually important.

For a second, I thought about lying.

I had used fake names before. I had reasons. Ozpin was out there. Salem was out there. The White Fang knew my face and name.

I was just tired of people trying to kill me.

But I like the others; this man had saved my life.

So I stood a little straighter.

“Andres Mondragon.”

Gyatso stroked his mustache again.

“Interesting name.”

“Thanks. My parents worked hard on it.”

A small smile tugged at his mouth.

“Come along, Andres Mondragon. You need rest before the test.”

Test.

Right.

The mysterious monk test.

I just hope they don't pull out the clippers to shave my head.

Still, he said rest, and that word was beautiful.

An actual bed.

No tree branches.

No cold dirt.

No waking up because a Grimm sensed my nightmares fucking with me.

Yeah, I normally never get more than 3 hours of sleep at a time.

“Thank God,” I said, following him into the courtyard, passing many people. “Those Shadows were a pain to deal with.”

Gyatso nodded like he understood exactly how annoying it was to be jumped by twenty copies of your trauma.

“Yes. The Shadows are tiresome. However, if you strike the Reliver directly, the Shadows will disappear.”

Reliver.

So that ugly nightmare Grimm had a name.

Actually, that was a clever name.

It made you relive your worst experiences.

“I tried to hit it,” I said. “My sword went straight through it.”

“That is because you attacked it with steel.”

I frowned.

“What else am I supposed to hit it with? A strongly worded petition?”

“With your mind.”

I looked at him.

He looked completely serious.

What the fuck? Why can't anything be simple here.

“With my mind,” I repeated.

“Yes. The Reliver cannot be defeated by normal means. To strike it, you must conquer the fears it shows you.”

Wow.

Just conquer my fears.

My fears…

“That’s easier said than done.”

What I fear… it's practically the entire universe at this point.

Goddammit…

Why is everything set on the hardest difficulty for me.

Gyatso didn’t seem offended.

“No,” he said calmly. “You are correct. It is easier said than done. Especially for you.”

I glanced at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You had many Shadows. That is uncommon.”

“How uncommon?”

“Most people have one. Some have two.”

I thought about the dozens of Adams, Ebonys, Coals, green-haired psychos, dragons, and copies of myself.

“...”

Gyatso’s eyes narrowed slightly, not in suspicion, but interest.

“Yours were also unusually powerful.”

“Yeah, I had very bad luck in my life.”

“The Reliver creates Shadows from those you fear most,” he said. “So I am curious. Why do you carry so many?”

Absolute shit luck.

“What can I say?” I said with a shrug. “I’m a scaredy cat.”

It was a joke.

Kinda

Because the real answer was unteal

Adam almost killed me.

Coal tortured me.

Ebony betrayed a whole town.

The green-haired woman hunted me.

Paarthurnax destroyed Earth and threw me into this world.

And myself?

I still didn’t know why my own face had been there.

I didn’t want to know.

Gyatso stopped walking.

His voice lowered, not angry, but disappointed in a way that somehow felt worse.

“Do not belittle yourself so easily.”

I looked at him.

He continued, “When a man repeats an excuse often enough, he begins to believe it. Once he believes it, he stops trying to rise above it.”

My first instinct was to snap back.

“Don’t—”

I stopped myself.

Took a breath, stopping myself.

I didn’t like being lectured… but he was right

“You’re right,” I admitted.

The words tasted annoying.

“But I’m not going to stop doing it completely.”

Gyatso raised an eyebrow.

I rubbed the back of my neck.

“I still need it. Make life… lighter.”

I looked down at my hands.

“I can’t get comfortable. I can’t start thinking I’m strong just because I survived a few fights. Every time I think I’m catching up, someone new shows up and beats the hell out of me.”

Adam.

The Alpha Beowolf.

The Reliver.

Paarthurnax.

Salem somewhere at the end of all this.

“I need to grow up fast,” I said. “Or I die.”

Gyatso watched me for a long moment.

Then he asked, “Why?”

The question was simple.

Too simple.

“You are young,” he said. “You should be living your life, not racing through it like a man trying to outrun death.”

I know.

“Circumstances.”

The word came out sharp, angry, and Bitter.

Gyatso did not push.

Thank God.

He just nodded slowly, like he understood that one word was carrying a lot more than I was willing to say.

“Yes,” he said. “Those are often the most troublesome things.”

I blinked.

Only then did I realize we had walked through half the Monastery while talking.

We were inside now.

I hadn’t even noticed.

The halls were wide and quiet, with polished stone floors and blue-and-gold walls. Paintings hung between the pillars, showing monks in different fighting stances, dragons curling through clouds, and people surrounded by glowing Aura.

Everything smelled faintly like incense and old wood.

This place was genuinely the most Peaceful place I've seen.

Gyatso stopped in front of a wooden door.

“Here is your room.”

I stared at it.

“You should rest well,” Gyatso said. “Tomorrow, the test will tell us if you are truly worthy.”

There was that word again.

Worthy.

I hated that word.

It made me think of Earth.

Of Noah.

Of people calling me a hero when I didn’t feel like one.

Gyatso gave a small bow.

“I will prepare the trial with the other monks.”

He turned to leave.

Before he got too far, I spoke.

“Gyatso.”

He looked back.

For once, I didn’t make a joke.

I just gave him a small, tired smile.

“Thank you.”

His expression softened.

“Rest, Andres Mondragon.”

Then he walked away, his robes whispering against the stone floor.

I stood there for a second, listening to the quiet.

No Grimm.

Just silence.

Real silence.

I opened the door and stepped inside.

There was a bed. I nearly started flirting with it. Calling it the sexiest around.

“So,” I muttered, dropping my backpack beside it, “time to sleep before the mysterious monk test ruins my life tomorrow.”

I fell onto the mattress.

My body sank into softness.

For the first time in days, I didn’t have to hold a weapon while closing my eyes.

Well, I still did; I held my Longsword at this point. I might as well buy a pacifier to put it onto the end of the hilt because it's the only way I could sleep for now on.

I walked through the base toward Cinder’s chamber.

Every step felt heavier than the last.

The hallway was dark, quiet, and way too long. The only sound was my boots tapping against the stone floor. Usually, I didn’t mind the silence.

Right now, I hated it.

Because silence gave me time to think.

And thinking made me remember that I had failed.

Cinder never liked failure.

No, it was more appropriate to say Cinder hated failure.

She didn’t yell like normal people. She didn’t throw childish tantrums. She stared.

Made you feel like your life was already over, and she was just deciding how painful the ending should be.

My stomach twisted.

Ebony was captured.

The town still stood.

The students interfered.

And that boy…

That damn boy.

I clenched my fists.

This conversation was going to be awful.

Finally, I reached Cinder’s door.

I stopped in front of it, took a deep breath, and tried to calm myself.

I knocked.

Nothing

Then the door opened by itself.

The room beyond was almost completely dark.

I stepped inside.

The moment I crossed the doorway, a heavy pressure dropped onto my head and shoulders.

I froze.

It felt like invisible hands were forcing me down.

Like the room itself wanted me to bow.

Black mist crawled across the floor, thick and unnatural, hiding the walls, the ceiling, and everything deeper inside. It wasn’t normal smoke. It moved too slowly. Too deliberately. Almost like it was alive.

I swallowed.

“Cinder?”

No answer.

I kept walking.

Every step made the pressure worse.

Then a small flame appeared ahead of me.

Just one flicker of orange light floating in the palm of a hand.

I stopped.

The flame grew brighter.

For a second, I could only see the outline of a person sitting in the darkness.

Her dress slowly started to glow spreading from her hand.

A orange as beautiful as fire.

Then the flame erupted.

A massive inferno burst to life around her body, covering her in fire without burning her. The black mist pulled away, pushed back by the heat and light.

Cinder sat there like a queen on a throne made of shadows.

And she did not look happy.

Her golden eyes locked onto me.

“Tell me,” Cinder said, her voice low and dangerous, “why have you failed?”

My mouth went dry.

“Cinder, the students…” I forced myself to speak. “They got in the way.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“The students of Beacon should have been nothing to you.”

I flinched.

“What happened to Ebony?”

The question hit harder than it should have.

I looked down.

“The students captured her.”

The fire around Cinder sharpened.

She slowly raised a hand to her face and rubbed her temple, like she was trying very hard not to kill me right then and there.

“Fantastic.”

The word came out cold enough to make my spine lock.

Then she lowered her hand.

“It does not matter. Ebony will not talk.”

Relief tried to enter my chest.

It died instantly when Cinder looked back at me. I quickly started talking.

“It wasn’t my fault. I tried to—”

“No.”

One word.

That was all it took to shut me up.

Cinder stood.

The fire around her rose higher.

“There is no excuse,” she said. “You were ordered to destroy the town.”

I stepped back.

“And yet it still stands.”

Her hand lifted.

A flame ignited in her palm.

“You failed.”

The flame grew larger.

“And now you will pay for it.”

Fear broke through me.

I dropped to my knees.

“Please,” I said, hating how weak my voice sounded. “Please, Cinder, it wasn’t my fault.”

“That does not matter.”

The flame swelled until it was nearly big enough to swallow me whole.

I could feel the heat on my face.

My eyes watered.

My breathing turned shallow.

She was really going to do it.

She was going to burn me alive right here.

Cinder’s hand pulled back.

Then a voice spoke from the darkness. “Cinder.”

Elegant.

Soft.

Terrifying.

The flame froze in Cinder’s hand.

I turned my head, searching the room. Something floated out of the black mist.

At first, I thought it was a Grimm.

It was shaped like an orb, black and red, with long tentacles hanging from its bottom. The tentacles twitched and curled in the air like they were underwater. Its surface pulsed slowly, almost like a heart.

Clicking sounds came from it.

Small, horrifying clicks that shouldn't exist. Goosebumps ran down my arms.

The orb floated closer.

“Give the child one more chance,” the voice said. “She is still useful.”

My breath caught.

That voice.

That power.

This had to be her.

Cinder’s Queen.

The one she never talked about.

The one even Cinder obeyed.

Cinder didn’t lower her flame.

“She has already failed me.”

“And if she fails again,” the voice replied, still calm, “you may do with her as you wish.”

The orb drifted closer to Cinder.

“But not yet.”

Cinder’s jaw tightened.

The room got hotter. The elegant voice turned colder.

“That is an order.”

The moment those words were spoken, the pressure in the room changed.

It was no longer just heavy.

It was absolute.

My body wanted to kneel lower. My mind wanted to obey. Even my thoughts felt like they had gone quiet just to listen to her.

Cinder’s flame shrank.

Slowly.

Reluctantly.

“Fine,” Cinder said.

I almost collapsed from relief. I was alive.

I crawled toward the floating Grimm orb before I could stop myself.

“Thank you—”

A tentacle snapped around my throat.

My words died.

The orb yanked me up just enough for my knees to scrape against the floor.

I grabbed at the tentacle, choking as it tightened.

The voice spoke directly into me.

“Quiet, child.”

My heart pounded.

“I spared you because you are useful. Do not mistake that for mercy.”

The tentacle squeezed harder. Black spots danced in my vision.

“Do not make me regret this.”

Then it let go.

I dropped to the floor, coughing and clutching my throat.

If I failed again, Cinder would kill me.

If Cinder didn’t, her Queen would.

The orb drifted back toward Cinder.

“Focus on our goal,” the Queen said. “Your desire to destroy the outer settlements is not the priority.”

Cinder’s face twisted.

Cinder didn’t like that. She wanted those towns gone to Vale weakened.

She wanted everything in her path reduced to ash.

But she still bowed her head.

“Plan the attack on Vale thoroughly,” the Queen continued. “That is what matters.”

The orb pulsed red.

“Vale will fall.”

Cinder lowered herself to one knee.

“Yes, my Queen.”

The room went silent.

I should have stayed quiet.

I really should have.

But I wanted to fix this.

I didn't want Cinder to hate me. I wanted her to see I still had value.

“Cinder,” I said, pushing myself up slightly. “I’m sorry. Please forg—”

Her foot slammed into my face.

Pain exploded across my cheek.

I hit the floor hard, tasting blood.

I always had my aura down whenever I was with Cinder to show her I never meant her any harm.

Cinder sighed.

“That no longer matters.”

I stayed down on the ground as Cinder looked at me with cold interest.

“Tell me the biggest reason you failed.”

I blinked through the pain.

She wanted the obstacle.

The real one.

The thing she could destroy. I wiped blood from my mouth and forced myself to think.

The students had interfered, yes.

But the biggest problem?

That boy.

The one who was the weakest.

The one who fought like he was scared and desperate but still somehow kept finding ways to win.

“There was this kid,” I said.

Cinder’s eyes sharpened.

“He looked fifteen or sixteen. He was weak, but smart. Really smart.”

My voice steadied a little as I remembered it.

“He beat me by collapsing a building on top of me. He wasn’t the strongest one there, but everyone started moving around him like he was the one making the plan.”

Cinder’s expression changed.

At first, it was irritation.

Then suspicion.

“What did this boy look like?”

I swallowed.

“He wore a red undershirt, black flannel, black jeans, and brown boots.”

Cinder went still.

For one second, the fire around her stopped moving. Then her face shifted like she had just found the final piece of a puzzle.

“My Queen,” Cinder said slowly, “is he the one?”

The orb turned toward her.

“Possibly.”

Cinder’s eyes narrowed.

“It has only been a month.”

“Yes,” the Queen said. “That is what concerns me.”

My throat tightened.

A month?

What were they talking about?

Cinder’s fingers curled.

“I will send Mercury after him before he becomes a problem.”

“No.”

The Queen’s answer came instantly.

Cinder looked up.

The orb pulsed darker.

“If this is the boy Paarthurnax sent, then your pawn may not be enough.”

Paarthurnax?

That name made the room feel colder despite all the fire.

Cinder frowned.

“He cannot be that strong.”

“Perhaps not yet,” the Queen said. “But if it is him, then he is growing too quickly.”

The tentacles beneath the orb curled.

“That growth must stop before he becomes a true threat.”

A true threat?

That kid?

He had looked half-dead when I saw him.

Smart, yes.

Dangerous, maybe.

But a threat to Cinder’s Queen?

Cinder glanced at me like she could hear my thoughts.

The Queen’s voice turned almost sweet.

“Emerald, my dear.”

My blood went cold.

“What is this boy’s name?”

I didn’t hesitate.

I didn’t want to get hit again.

“He told me his name,” I said. “Andres Mondragon.”

The orb became completely still.

Then the Queen hummed.

“Not a color.”

Cinder’s eyes widened slightly.

The Queen sounded almost satisfied.

“Yes. This is definitely him.”

Cinder looked confused now.

“But how? The boy was weak when he arrived. How could he have grown this much already?”

“He is the one Paarthurnax sent to harm me,” the Queen said. “Paarthurnax would not choose some ordinary creature. He would only choose something with potential.”

Cinder closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Another one with potential.”

Her voice dripped with disgust.

“Then we kill him.”

“Yes,” the Queen said. “Which is why I will send Hazel and Tyrant.”

My stomach dropped.

Hazel.

And Tyrant.

For one kid.

Cinder slowly nodded.

“I understand.”

“Good. You will focus on Vale. Let my lieutenants deal with Andres Mondragon.”

Cinder knelt fully.

“Yes, my Queen.”

The orb floated backward into the black mist.

The clicking sounds faded first.

Then the red glow.

Then the pressure in the room lightened, just enough for me to breathe normally again.

Cinder stood in silence for a long moment.

Then she looked at me.

“Leave,” she said.

I didn’t need to be told twice.

I got up as fast as I could, still holding my throat, and rushed out of the chamber.

The door shut behind me.

Only when I was alone in the hallway did I finally breathe.

Andres Mondragon.

Who the hell were you?

I was sleeping.

No nightmares.

No dreams.

Just nothing.

Honestly, it was kind of nice.

After everything that had happened, nothing was a luxury. No dragons. No dead people. No shadows. No weird fog monster trying to dig through my brain.

Just darkness.

Quiet.

Peace.

Then a voice spoke inside it.

“Andres Mondragon.”

The voice was almost demonic.

Cold.

Deep.

Certain.

“You will die.”

My eyes snapped open.

“The fuc—”

I stopped.

Stared at the ceiling.

Then sighed.

“No. Never mind.”

I rolled onto my side and pulled the blanket higher.

“I get death threats all the time now.”

Honestly, the voice didn’t even affect me.

That probably said something very bad about my life.

Day 41 of 730 Before Earth’s Death

I opened my eyes.

For a second, I didn’t move.

Morning sunlight poured through the window, soft and golden, landing across the floor in long bright strips. Dust floated in the air like little sparks. The room was quiet except for the distant sound of birds outside and the low rush of water somewhere far away.

I blinked.

Where am I?

Then everything came back.

The fog.

The Reliver.

The Shadows.

Gyatso.

The Monastery.

The test.

I sat up fast.

“Right,” I muttered. “Mysterious monk test. Fantastic.”

I looked down at myself and realized I had fallen asleep with all my equipment still on.

Weapons.

Bag.

Boots.

Everything.

“Whoops.”

Well, on the bright side, I was already ready.

On the not-so-bright side, sleeping in full gear made my body feel like it had been folded wrong.

I rolled my shoulders, grabbed my bag, and walked out of the room.

Now that I wasn’t half-dead from exhaustion, I could actually look at the place.

And damn.

The Monastery was beautiful.

The halls were made of polished wood and smooth stone, with blue and gold paint that looked untouched by time. The walls had carvings of dragons, monks, flames, waves, and people surrounded by glowing Aura. 

Every beam of wood looked carefully shaped by hand. No cracks. No rot. No dust.

It didn’t look abandoned.

It didn’t look new either.

It looked ancient, but alive.

Like this place had survived out here because the forest respected it enough not to touch it.

I kept walking until I came across two massive doors.

Big doors usually meant something important.

Or a boss fight.

Honestly, with my luck, both.

I pushed against them.

They didn’t move.

Not even a little.

“What? Why?”

I leaned closer and saw a blue gem set into the center of the doors.

Oh.

Same thing as the front gate.

I dug through my pockets and pulled out my amulet. The yellow gem in the middle caught the sunlight as I lifted it.

I pressed it against the blue gem.

For a second, nothing happened.

Then both gems turned green.

Glowing patterns spread across the doors, lighting up like veins of emerald fire. The wood hummed under my hand, and the doors slowly opened by themselves.

I stared.

“What magic is this?”

The doors opened completely.

And behind them was paradise.

A massive open field stretched out in front of me, surrounded on all sides by the Monastery walls. Fresh green grass moved gently in the wind. A few trees stood scattered across the field, their leaves shining under the morning sun. In the distance, a mountain rose up inside the courtyard itself, with a waterfall spilling down its side and feeding into a clear lake in the center.

Deer grazed near the water.

Rabbits hopped through the grass.

Birds flew between the trees, singing like there weren’t Grimm outside these walls waiting to rip people apart.

I walked forward slowly.

The air smelled clean.

Fresh grass, Cold water, Flowers.

Peace.

I stopped near the edge of the field and just stared.

This.

This was what I wanted.

Not the fighting.

Not the blood.

Not the titles or legends or people staring at me like I was either a monster or a miracle.

This.

A quiet place.

A safe place.

A world where kids could run through grass without something trying to eat them.

Hopefully, one day, I would get it.

Behind me, footsteps echoed.

I turned around.

Gyatso stood near the open doors with four other monks.

Three of them wore the same orange and yellow robes as him, but one stood out immediately. His robes were brighter. Cleaner. He had more accessories, more beads, more detail stitched into his clothing.

That guys the Leader, I'm calling it.

He looked me up and down.

His face didn’t change.

“So,” he said, deadpan. “You are the boy.”

I waited.

His eyes narrowed.

“Unimpressive.”

Oh God.

He had that personality.

Without thinking, I said, “Gee, thanks. You want to talk about how horrible of a person I am too, since you supposedly got me all figured out already?”

One of the other monks smiled.

“He has quite a mouth on him.”

I crossed my arms.

“Yeah, it came free with the trauma.”

Gyatso stepped in before the fancy monk could say something worse.

“Yes, he does,” Gyatso said calmly. “But he carries an Amulet of Worthiness. By our code, we must test him, regardless of personal opinion.”

I glanced at him.

“Gyatso, that kind of sounds like you don’t like me either. Don’t do that to me, man.”

Gyatso’s mustache twitched like he was trying not to smile.

“I said personal opinion. I did not say mine.”

I don't believe you.

I gave him a small nod.

“Thanks. So can we stop talking and get to the test already?”

One of the monks nodded.

“Yes. Let us stop wasting time.”

The leader turned without another word.

“Come along.”

He walked into the field.

I followed.

We moved deeper into the small paradise, heading straight toward the lake. As we got closer, I saw a stone platform built near the water.

The platform was circular, with a bigger circle carved in the middle and five smaller circles placed around it. Each smaller circle connected to the center with a carved line.

Five monks.

One me.

Six circles.

Yeah, I sensed a connection.

Gyatso gestured toward the center.

“Andres, stand in the middle circle.”

I looked at the platform again.

This didn’t look like a physical test.

No weapons.

No training dummies.

No obstacle course.

Just carvings, water, and a lot of monk energy.

But whatever I wanted what they could teach me.

So I stepped into the center circle.

“Okay.”

Gyatso walked up and handed me a small white cube.

It looked like a Starburst.

A very suspicious Starburst.

He placed it in my palm.

“When we tell you to, eat this.”

I stared at it.

“Oh God. You’re going to drug me.”

Gyatso blinked.

“It is Dust.”

I think that's worse.

“That does not make me feel better.”

“A special kind of Dust,” he explained. “It will help reveal whether you are worthy of training.”

So Magic truth candy.

I'm going to pretend that didn’t sound horrifying.

“What will it show you?” I asked.

Please do not show them my teenage thoughts.

It's going to a lot of asses.

You know, Clover's, especially Coco. She really was pressing it against me when we slept on the floor.

And Velvet.

What? Not my fault. On accident, one of the days I took a nap as we were hanging out, and Velvet tripped and fell on my face.

And, well, I intimately got to know a woman's ass after that.

More like she frantically apologized while Coco teased us both.

Gyatso looked straight at me.

“What do you want most in life?”

Oh.

That was easy.

A family… A kid.

A peaceful life where I didn’t have to stab monsters every other day.

I smiled with way too much confidence.

“That’s it? I so got this.”

Gyatso walked to one of the smaller circles and knelt.

The other monks did the same.

The leader knelt last, his eyes still fixed on me like he was already waiting for me to fail.

Gyatso gave the others a slow nod.

“Now, brothers. Let us begin.”

I felt it, a sudden disturbance coming off of them.

Is that their Aura?

The air changed.

The wind stilled.

Even the birds went quiet.

Gyatso looked at me.

“Eat the Dust, Andres.”

Well.

Now or never.

I put the cube in my mouth and swallowed.

The Dust dissolved instantly.

Cold spread over my tongue.

Then heat.

Then something in between that crawled down my throat and into my chest.

My vision blurred.

The monks began chanting.

Their voices sounded far away, like I was underwater. I couldn’t understand most of it, but then one line became painfully clear.

“With both the light and the dark of this world, let falsehood fade. Let this man’s deepest desire be revealed. Let his mind open to us, and to himself.”

The chanting stopped.

My vision went black.

The paradise vanished.

The light vanished.

Everything vanished.

I stood in empty darkness.

No field.

No lake.

No sky.

Just nothing.

“So this is my mind?” I said, looking around. “Wow, there’s nothing in here. I'm not that empty-headed.”

Then three colors flashed in front of me.

Crimson red.

Cobalt blue.

Cherry Blossom pink.

The red was so dark it looked almost black, like blood under moonlight.

The blue was soft but depressing, like the sky right before rain.

The pink was warm and beautiful.

The colors separated and became flames.

The pink flame was the smallest, about the size of a person.

The blue flame was a little bigger.

The red flame was massive, the size of a bonfire, making the others look like candles beside it.

Inside each flame, I saw a human figure.

“What are you?”

All three spoke at once.

“We are what you want.”

Their voices overlapped, but I understood every word.

“We are not lies. We are your truth.”

At least they're direct.

“Did you just read my thoughts?” I said, looking around to the endless black.

“Our mind,” they said. “We are your greatest desires.”

Oh.

So this was that kind of test.

I looked between them.

“Great. So where are the teenage thoughts? Those are probably the worst ones.”

The flames went silent for a second.

Then they spoke, serious and calm.

“Those are nowhere near your greatest desires.”

I blinked.

“Really?”

I thought I was pretty cuckoo for ass.

“Come toward us.”

I immediately did not like that.

“Why?”

“To show you what you hide from yourself.”

I scoffed.

“I don’t hide my desires from myself. If I hate something horrible, I’ll face it and destroy it. That’s how I am.”

I was about to say something even more arrogant.

Then Adam’s mask flashed in my mind.

Ebony’s grin.

The green-haired woman.

Paarthurnax’s teeth.

My throat tightened.

I needed training.

I needed power.

I wouldn’t survive out here without it.

My fingers curled.

“I… I need to do this.”

Before I could walk forward, the pink flame moved first.

It came close enough that I felt warmth against my face.

A pink hand reached from the fire and touched my forehead with two fingers.

The darkness broke.

Images filled my mind.

A field of lush green grass.

A bright sky.

A child running through the field with a wooden sword, laughing like the world had never hurt anyone.

Behind the child stood a woman with a blank white face. Her features weren’t there, like my mind didn’t know who she was yet. But I knew what she meant.

My arm was wrapped around her back.

My hand rested on her side.

I felt warmth in my chest.

Safety.

Love.

Responsibility.

The need to protect something gentle.

A family.

My family.

A desire I had carried since I was twelve years old.

Then the image faded.

The pink figure began disappearing.

Before it vanished completely, it spoke.

“Family. That is what you desire.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

That was a relief.

At least one of my desires was normal.

“Okay,” I said carefully. “That’s good. Very good. So what are the other two?”

The blue and red flames spoke together.

“You will see.”

“Just touch me.”

I walked toward the blue flame.

A blue hand reached out and touched my forehead.

The images that came next were not beautiful.

I saw myself on the ground.

Not sleeping.

Not resting.

Broken.

Crying.

My hands were pressed into the dirt, and I wasn’t moving.

At first, I was offended.

“What? No. I’m not lazy.”

Then I looked closer.

I wasn’t crying because I didn’t want to move.

I was crying because I couldn’t.

In front of me stood everyone I had fought.

Everyone I might fight.

People I recognized.

People I didn’t.

Adam.

Ebony.

The green-haired woman.

Paarthurnax.

Dragons.

Grimm.

Salem.

And behind them, shapes even bigger than Salem.

Gods.

Actual gods.

My thoughts invaded me.

How can one person beat all of this?

I’m one person.

One stupid kid from Earth.

They’re stronger than me, faster than me, smarter than me.

They have armies.

Magic.

Monsters.

Gods.

What chance do I have?

What good can I do?

I can’t save anyone.

I can’t even save myself.

The helplessness swallowed me.

It felt peaceful in the worst way.

Like lying down and letting the ocean pull me under.

To stop uselessly paddling to the surface to barely get snippets of air.

Then the image stopped.

The blue figure began to vanish.

“The want to give up,” it said. “That is what you desire.”

My stomach twisted.

“No.”

The Cobalt flame flickered.

“That can’t be right.”

It kept vanishing.

“I might want to,” I said, my voice shaking, “but I’ll never let myself.”

The darkness around me felt heavier.

“I will save my world.”

The Cobalt flame disappeared.

I stood there breathing hard, fists clenched.

No.

No matter how tired I got.

No matter how scared I was.

No matter how badly my body and mind begged me to stop.

I would force myself to keep fighting until Earth was free.

Until I was free.

The red flame burned brighter.

“I am the final desire,” it said. “I am what you desire the most currently.”

I looked up at it.

Something about that flame felt wrong.

Heavy.

Sickening.

Like when you eat something rotten and your stomach knows before your brain does.

“Great,” I muttered. “What are you?”

The red figure moved.

Its massive hand came out of the flame and pressed against my head.

The image hit me like a hammer.

I stood on top of a hill.

But it wasn’t really me.

It was a version of me wrapped in an Aura so powerful it felt almost godly. The air around him bent.

The sky trembled. Every breath he took made the world feel smaller.

Below the hill, thousands of people bowed.

Not out of respect.

Out of worship.

Beside them was a pile of bodies.

Adam.

Ebony.

The green-haired woman.

Dovoca.

Paarthurnax.

Everyone who stands in my way.

Dead.

The version of me raised his hand.

A wave of crimson energy rippled through the air.

The people bowed lower.

Nothing stood in his way.

Nothing commanded him.

Nothing controlled him.

No gods.

No dragons.

No headmasters.

No queens.

No one.

He chose his own destiny.

And with that power, he would make the world obey.

Then he walked down the hill.

The crowd parted for him.

A woman stood there, holding a baby in her arms.

The powerful version of me reached out.

His hand moved toward the child’s head.

For one terrible second, I thought he was going to crush it.

Then—

The image stopped.

I staggered backward.

The red flame spoke.

“This is what you desire most.”

My mouth went dry.

“Power.”

No.

No.

Sure, power was good, useful, necessary.

But I won't do that. Not to control or to be worshipped.

“No,” I said. “That’s not true.”

The red flame burned quietly.

“I want to free my people. I want to save my world. I want to live with the people I love.”

My voice rose.

“Not control them.”

Never.

I would never control people.

The red figure looked at me from inside the flame.

“Look closer,” it said. “There is more to your desire for power. You—”

Then it vanished.

The darkness shattered.

The world came back.

The lake.

The grass.

The monks.

The morning sun.

I gasped and nearly fell.

My head spun.

My body felt like it had just been ripped out of itself and thrown back together wrong.

Then I heard a voice.

“That is enough.”

I blinked and looked up.

The monk leader was standing.

His face was filled with disgust.

“I have seen enough.”

My blood went cold.

“You failed.”

What?

“What?”

He glared down at me.

“We will not teach scum who would make others bend to his will.”

The words hit harder than I expected.

“No,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “No, that’s not what it was. You didn’t see everything.”

One of the other monks stood.

“The test revealed your truth.”

“No, there was more,” I insisted. “It cut off. The red one was saying something else.”

The leader’s lip curled.

“You lust for power.”

“I need power,” I snapped. “That’s different.”

“Is it?”

“Of course it is!”

You think I want to rule the world, to control things, to be in charge? Fuck that.

I just want to live.

All the monks were standing now. All except Gyatso.

He was still kneeling in meditation, eyes closed, completely still.

Why wasn’t he getting up?

Why wasn’t he saying anything?

The leader turned away from me.

“Leave.”

Panic stabbed through my chest.

No.

No, no, no.

I needed this.

Coming to Remnant, I understood I am prideful, without a doubt. It's helped most of the time, but…

When my planet is on the line, should I pick my pride or throw it away for a better chance?

It's why I dropped to my knees when I normally never would.

“Please.”

The word tasted like blood.

“I need the strength you can teach me.”

The leader’s eyes hardened.

“So you can enslave those around you?”

“No!”

My voice cracked.

I bowed my head low, like a peasant before a king.

I hated it.

I hated every second of it.

But Earth was worth more than my pride.

“Please,” I said. “I’m begging you. I need to save my people. Your teachings could give me a chance.”

Finally, Gyatso opened his eyes.

He stood slowly and looked toward the leader.

“Zenkou.”

So that was his name.

“Perhaps we should perform the ritual again,” Gyatso said. “If people are truly in danger, we should not turn away from helping them.”

Zenkou answered immediately.

“No. He is not worthy.”

Another monk crossed his arms.

“Then let us put it to a vote. All who believe we should try again, say yes. All opposed, say nay.”

The monks exchanged glances.

“Agreed,” they said.

Zenkou said nothing, but he didn’t stop it.

Gyatso spoke first.

“Yes.”

Another monk nodded.

“Yes.”

A third monk looked at me, then looked away.

“Nay.”

Zenkou didn’t hesitate.

“Nay.”

The final monk remained silent.

Everyone turned to him.

After a moment, he said, “I will not vote either way.”

I frowned.

That didn’t sound good.

“I propose a compromise.”

Zenkou’s eyes narrowed.

The monk looked at me.

“If the boy truly wishes to learn our ways, then he must pass a new trial.”

A bad feeling crawled up my spine.

“The Reliver has been lurking too close to our home,” he continued. “It must be vanquished before it attacks again.”

Oh.

He wanted me to kill that thing.

Of course he did.

Because my life couldn’t just be hard.

It had to be theatrical.

Zenkou smiled. It was almost sadistic.

“Interesting.”

Gyatso immediately frowned.

“That is unreasonable. A Reliver normally requires a veteran Huntsman to slay.”

I looked at him.

“Wait, what?”

That's why it fucked the shit out of me. The monk who proposed it didn’t even blink.

“It is supposed to be unfair.”

Well.

At least he was honest.

He looked back at me.

“So, child. Will you accept?”

The field went quiet.

I thought about the Reliver.

The fog.

Ezekiel’s laugh.

The shadows.

Adam’s blade hitting my chest.

Ebony’s hatchets shattering my Aura.

Paarthurnax’s fake dragon fire.

I did not want to fight that thing again.

Every instinct I had screamed that this was stupid.

But then I thought of Earth.

Everything I love.

Billions of people waiting for a kid they didn’t even know to somehow figure out how to save them.

The thought of letting them die because I was too scared to face my own fears made me sick.

I stood.

My legs were shaking, but I stood.

“I’ll do it.”

Gyatso’s face tightened.

Zenkou looked almost pleased.

The monk who offered the compromise watched me carefully.

I clenched my fists.

“I’ll do anything to save my people. If I have to fight something above my level, fine. If I have to face unbeatable odds, fine.”

The heat in my chest rose.

The sun rose.

Not anger this time.

Will.

“Nothing will stop me.”

For a second, I swore something burned in my eyes.

The monk who proposed the trial smiled.

Not cruelly but genuinely.

“Well said, boy.”

That confused me.

Was he on my side or not?

“Now leave us,” he said. “We must discuss our opinions of you.”

Gyatso turned to me.

“Andres. Wait for me by the front gate.”

That sounded like the best option.

So I left.

I walked back through the Monastery halls, past the perfect woodwork and clean blue-and-gold walls, until I reached the front gate.

Then I sat down beside it.

And waited.

So… I failed the test. Did not expect that.

This was what I got for being cocky.

I thought the test would show family, maybe peace, maybe me living happily with a wife and kid.

Instead, it showed family, the desire to give up, and power.

One of those was good.

The other two were incredibly questionable.

I leaned my head back against the wall and stared up at the ceiling.

“Great job, Andres,” I muttered. “You went into a spiritual test and came out looking like a future dictator.”

Thirty minutes passed.

Finally, Gyatso walked toward me.

He had a frown on his face.

I did not like that frown.

I stood.

“So,” I said, trying not to sound nervous, “kill the Reliver. Guess that’s not going to be easy.”

“No,” Gyatso said. “It will not.”

I sighed.

He stopped in front of me and looked straight into my eyes.

“Andres, Zenkou and Mutatsu do not believe your plea.”

“Mutatsu?”

“The monk who proposed the compromise.”

“Cool.”

Gyatso’s expression softened.

“They do not believe you. But I do.”

I blinked.

“You do?”

Fucking why? You don't know me.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Seriously.

Did he not see the power thing?

That was a little sickening.

Gyatso folded his hands behind his back.

“They did not finish seeing your desire for power.”

I froze.

“If they had, they may have understood.”

I stared at him.

“So there was more?”

“Yes.”

My jaw tightened.

“I knew it.”

“The vision was cut short,” Gyatso said. “You were not desiring control for its own sake. There was something beneath it.”

“What?”

“That, I cannot say.”

“Why not?”

“Because you must understand it yourself.”

I groaned.

“Of course.”

Gyatso almost smiled.

“Also, someone told me to help you.”

That made me stop.

“What?”

“A person told me to guide you if you came here.”

My stomach dropped.

“Who?”

“He told me not to tell you.”

I stared at him.

“You’re serious.”

“Yes.”

Goddammit.

Who was it this time?

A ghost?

A dragon?

Another god?

Some weird creep who had been watching me from behind a tree?

No.

Don’t be angry. Whoever it is is helping me.

“Great,” I muttered. “A new challenger appears.”

Gyatso tilted his head.

“What?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

I rubbed my face.

“So, the Reliver. How do I kill it?”

Gyatso’s face became serious again.

“Then listen carefully.”

Yay. Actual information.

“The Reliver uses your happiest memories to lure you in. Once you are close enough, it enters your mind and pulls out your fears, creating Shadows of them.”

“Yeah, noticed that.”

It lured me in with the memories of my nephew, then those shadows bum-rushed the fuck out of me.

“The Shadows are fragile. One good strike can destroy them. But they are as strong and as fast as the beings they are based on.”

Yeah, those shadow Adams were ungodly strong, just like the real one.

“Noticed that.”

“They lack the original’s full intelligence,” Gyatso continued. “They cannot use Semblances. They cannot use ranged attacks unless those attacks are part of their body or nature.”

“So fake Adam can’t fire sword beams?”

“No,” he said, like it was a question.

“Thank God.”

“But fake dragons can breathe fire.”

I stared.

Gyatso continued, “The Reliver’s greatest danger is not the Shadows themselves. It is time.”

“Time?”

“The longer you remain in its fog, the more Grimm it attracts.”

I grabbed my face.

“Seriously? What else can this thing do? Taxes?”

Gyatso ignored that.

“If you stay too long, you will not only fight your fears. You will fight real Grimm drawn by the fear and panic the Reliver creates.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. A nightmare monster that summoned emotional damage and then called backup.

“So how do I hit it?” I asked. “You said before I have to conquer my fears.”

“Yes.”

“What does that actually mean? Do I have to stop being afraid of them?”

“No.”

That was a relief.

“That is impossible,” Gyatso said. “Courage is not the absence of fear.”

I nodded slowly.

“It is standing against fear even while it remains.”

Okay.

That made more sense.

But it doesn't because I already faced them.

“I did fight them, though. Why didn’t that work?”

“Because you fought from instinct,” Gyatso said. “You were attacked, so you defended yourself. That is survival. Necessary, but not the same as courage.”

I thought about that.

In the fog, I hadn’t chosen to face Adam.

He appeared, and I reacted.

Same with Ebony.

Same with Paarthurnax.

I ran because I didn’t want to die.

That wasn’t facing fear.

That was being chased by it.

“Okay,” I said slowly. “So I need to stand up to them.”

“Yes.”

Well, I guess it's time to get at it. “Time to light up my Crest of Courage.”

Gyatso stared.

“What is that?”

“Otherworldly knowledge.”

“Ah.”

He reached into his robe and pulled out a red cube.

Fire Dust.

He handed it to me.

I took it carefully.

“This may help you if the situation becomes desperate.”

I stared at the red cube.

Using it would make the fight much easier. It would also hurt like hell.

And I didn’t want to become reliant on temporary power-ups, but steroids did help bodybuilders and actors reach their dreams, so maybe it's not that bad.

Anyway, rejecting help when I was about to fight a veteran-Huntsman-level Grimm would be stupid.

I slipped it into my pocket.

“Thanks, Gyatso.”

He nodded.

“For the advice,” I added. “For standing up for me back there. And for this.”

His expression warmed.

“Of course.”

He looked toward the gate.

“Your path will be hard, Andres. But that does not mean we should make it harder.”

That actually made me feel better.

A hard path ahead of me.

Probably the realest words anyone had said since I got thrown into this world.

I checked my weapons.

Longsword.

Shortsword.

Daggers.

Revolver.

Threads ready.

Fire Dust in my pocket.

Let's fucking go. I looked back at Gyatso.

“Later, Gyatso.”

Then I turned toward the gate.

“I’ll be back.”

This time, I wasn’t going to run from the fog. This time, I was going to stand up to it.

I just hope I don't end up like those people in The Mist.

Ending my talk with Gyatso, I headed back into the forest.

The same forest and trees.

The same place where that ugly fog bastard dragged my fears out of my head and tried to beat me to death with them.

I gripped my longsword tighter.

“So,” I muttered, walking through the grass, “conquer your fears.”

Easy words.

Hard thing to actually do.

Adam.

Why was I afraid of him?

Was it because he was stronger than me by leagues? Or is it because every time he moved, my body remembered almost dying?

Maybe it was because he was creepy as fuck?

Probably all three.

But it didn’t matter.

I could be afraid, nothing wrong with that.

What I couldn’t do was let that fear decide for me.

Then there was the last Shadow.

Me.

I swallowed.

“I’m not afraid of myself.”

Am I.

…

Sure, the fact that I've killed a lot of people and I'm not in the slightest affected by it is concerning, but I just chalked it up to all of them being literal psychopathic murderers.

What happens when… if that bloodlust, my instincts take over?

If Earth does hurt or, God forbid, kill my mom.

I can feel it.

I would turn into a complete monster.

Yeah, I am.

“No,” I admitted quietly. “I am.”

I really don’t like this Grimm.

Just to be safe, I pulled out my longsword.

And like every other time in my life, my paranoia immediately paid off.

Fog rolled between the trees.

Thick, gray, cold.

Then figures appeared inside it.

My loved ones, every single one of them.

My mom.

Noah.

Ezekiel.

My friends I hadn’t seen in what felt like forever.

They looked exactly how I remembered them.

No.

How I last saw them.

My grip tightened until my knuckles hurt.

I whispered, “Here we go.”

I wanted to run to them, hear their voices. I truly wanted more time with all of them, even if it was fake.

But this was a trap.

The Reliver wanted me emotional, confused, weak.

Not this time.

I raised my free hand and released my Threads.

Hundreds of thin red lines spread out in every direction, weaving through the fog in a thirty-foot radius.

Thread Radar.

If that ugly thing was nearby, I’d feel it.

My family stood there silently.

I ignored them, and it hurt more than you'd ever think.

My Ezekiel, my nephew, had the biggest smile, waving at me as he held my sister's hand.

God, it hurt so much.

After a minute, something stepped into my radar field.

To the right, a large body, long arms, a creepy shape.

“There you are.”

I charged.

The Reliver stood between the trees, its white Grimm armor glowing faintly through the fog. Black mist leaked from the holes in its body. Its face was closed, but I knew what was inside.

Teeth.

Lots of them.

I drove my sword straight into its chest.

The blade passed through.

The Reliver disappeared into fog.

“Dammit.”

So I still couldn’t touch it.

Fine.

Time to fight the Shadows.

I kept my radar up and waited.

Thirty seconds later, the fog moved.

Shadows stepped out.

Adam.

Ebony.

Clover.

Dovoca.

Paarthurnax.

Me.

All of them. And then more.

They came running.

My heart jumped, but I forced my feet forward.

“No running this time.”

I charged them.

Dozens of Thread needles formed at my sides, sharp and ready.

“Come on!”

The first wave hit me.

I started killing them fast.

One Thread needle through the chest, a sword slash through the neck.

Kicking another to make room, using Aura Palm to defend against attacks.

The Adam Shadows were fast, but for some reason, they weren’t as fast as yesterday.

Or maybe I was getting faster.

That thought disappeared when a Shadow illusionist appeared behind me and kicked me in the face.

My head snapped to the side.

“Damn!”

Of course she could sneak up on me.

I stumbled, and that was all Adam and Ebony needed.

They came from both sides.

Adam’s blade slammed into one side of my face.

Ebony’s hatchet smashed into the other.

A crack rang through my skull.

“Fuck!”

I jumped back, shaking my head.

Okay.

Think.

Gyatso said courage wasn’t being fearless.

It was standing up to fear.

I looked at Ebony.

Her Shadow lifted both hatchets and stalked toward me.

I remembered her first.

The arrogance.

The annoyance.

The way she talked like she owned the situation.

The way she was strong enough to nearly kill me when I was exhausted, hurt, and surrounded by Grimm.

But that was then.

I wasn’t half-dead now, tired beyond belief, and I wasn’t trapped under pressure.

I wasn’t fighting after getting worn down by Clover and an entire town’s worth of chaos.

Ebony was stronger than me.

So what?

When had that ever stopped me?

A Shadow Ebony charged, hatchet ready to swing with the force of a train.

I didn’t move.

Her weapon hit my skin.

And she vanished.

I blinked.

Then every Ebony Shadow around me disappeared into smoke.

A grin pulled at my face.

“Fuck yeah.”

One down.

Five to go.

Before I could enjoy that victory, Shadow Illusionist appeared right in front of me.

I almost jumped out of my skin.

“Holy shit!”

My left hand shot out on instinct.

I grabbed her face and crushed the Shadow with my Threads.

She vanished in my grip.

I breathed hard.

“Clover.”

The name tasted weird because it was obviously a fake name.

“The only reason I feared you was because you could’ve killed me, my friends, and that whole town without ever being seen.”

If I didn't put the pieces together, Silverkeep would have fallen.

More Clover Shadows came from the fog.

I stared at them.

“But your surprise is gone.”

Now that I know you exist, what you are, if I ever see you again, I'll kill you.

They stopped.

“I’m not afraid of you. I’m afraid of what you can do.”

The Shadows flickered.

“And now I know what you can do.”

They disappeared.

I let out a breath.

“Damn. This is getting easier.”

For one stupid second, I tasted victory.

Then I smelled fire.

“Oh God.”

I turned.

A green fireball came straight at me.

Pure instinct took over.

I poured an absurd amount of Aura into my legs and jumped.

The world dropped away beneath me.

I shot almost a hundred feet into the air.

That might not sound high, but when you’re the one flying with no plan for landing, it feels very high.

Like eighth-floor-of-a-hotel high.

As I started falling, I saw a green dragon below.

Dovoca.

Perfect.

I landed feet-first on his back.

The impact cushioned my fall just enough not to shatter every bone in my legs. The Shadow dragon burst apart underneath me, and I fell through the smoke, landing hard on the ground.

Pain shot through my knees.

“Okay,” I groaned. “Never do that again.”

Another Adam rushed me.

I killed it with a Thread needle before it got close.

Then I turned toward the fog.

“Dovoca.”

My voice went low.

“I hate you with my whole being.”

The fog stirred.

“You killed my friends. You killed the woman I loved.”

Another Dovoca Shadow came out of the mist, trampling trees as it moved.

“I should fear you because of your strength.”

I ran toward it.

“But all I feel is hate.”

The dragon lowered its head and charged.

I pushed Aura into my legs, reached it in a second, and drove my sword straight through its skull.

The Shadow burst into smoke.

No more Dovocas appeared.

“Good.”

Three remained.

Adam.

Paarthurnax.

Me.

Then a thought hit me.

Why hadn’t my Shadow attacked?

No time.

A horde of Adams closed in.

They moved like lightning.

I barely got a bubble shield made of Thread around myself before they reached me. Spikes formed along the outside, stabbing outward.

“Okay,” I said quickly. “Two seconds to make a plan.”

A sword broke through the fragile Threads and passed right next to my head.

“Holy shit!”

Plan made.

Storm of Threads.

The sphere spun around me, compressing and flattening into vertical blades. They rotated faster and faster until it became a giant lawnmower made of red death.

More than half the Adam Shadows didn’t react fast enough.

They were cut in half instantly.

“If only the real one died that easily.”

The Threads fell apart, giving me room to move.

I formed a Thread shield in my left hand and readied my sword.

One Adam shot toward me.

I sent Thread needles into the horde to thin them out while keeping my eyes on the one in front.

He slashed.

I blocked with the Thread shield.

The shield was cut apart on impact.

But that worked.

The force made his blade bounce away.

Opening.

I stepped in and cut him in half.

Most of the Adams were dead now.

“Adam Taurus.”

The remaining Shadows stopped like they heard me.

“You dug yourself into my head. I’m not going to lie. I’m scared of you.”

One of them raised his blade.

“But you’re human. Or Faunus. Whatever. You bleed like me.”

His sword lowered slightly.

“You might be stronger. Faster. Better trained. But if you can bleed, you can die.”

The fog thickened.

I stepped forward.

“And if I let fear of you freeze me, what happens when the next monster shows up? What happens when someone worse than you appears?”

My hand tightened around my sword.

“Do I shake? Do I run? Do I let people die?”

The Adam Shadows flickered.

“No.”

My voice hardened.

“You will not stop me now.”

The Shadows began to vanish.

“And you sure as hell won’t stop me later.”

The last Adam disappeared.

I almost collapsed from relief.

“Oh, thank God. He was the worst.”

I looked around.

No one else.

Wait.

“Where’s Paarthurnax?”

A roar answered from the sky.

I looked up.

“Please don’t tell me.”

Paarthurnax came dive-bombing through the fog like a meteor with wings.

“Yup. Of course.”

Between its black scales, it glowed a deep crimson. It breathed in before opening its mouth.

Oh no.

As fast as I could, I ran, pumping all my Aura into my legs.

He's the king of the dragons. That means he's the strongest, so unlike Dovoca, he'll destroy everything with his breath.

As I quickly made very good distance, I saw it.

Black flames escaped Paarthurnax's mouth, hitting the ground, and immediately, it spread, consuming everything.

Trees turned to literal ash and dust the second it hit.

I kept running and running, pushing my limits, until I turned back, and I swear to you, the forest was gone. At least a square mile was completely incinerated, only a molten crater where life and vegetation were before.

What the fuck.

That was way stronger than Dovoca's shitty green flames.

Shadow Paarthurnax, finishing up his black flames, looked at me and came flying.

His wings flapped so strongly the trees started to rip from the ground, roots and all. The winds raged, causing clouds and rain to start falling just from it flying.

Before it could burn me into nothingness, I quickly sent a Thread needle at it. Normally, I don't think it could pierce Paarthurnax's black scales, but there was one area it could.

On his chest, there was a small bald spot where black scales looked like they were plucked from.

The previous heroes who came before me got their scale from there.

It also made that one area without protection.

Anticlimactically, it went straight into the scale bald spot, and the fake dragon king disappeared.

What the fuck.

I know Gyatso said the Shadows are as strong as their real-life counterparts, but I 100% don't believe that was even a percent of Paarthurnax's power.

I saw a massive purple dragon literally melt entire skyscrapers with its purple breath.

And Paarthurnax is their king.

“Thank you, Jesus.”

But I knew killing the Shadow wasn’t enough.

I had to face what it meant. I looked up into the falling smoke.

“Paarthurnax.”

My voice softened, but only a little.

“You are my greatest ally and my biggest enemy.”

The smoke twisted around me.

“We have a partnership. You help me. I help you. But that doesn’t change the truth.”

My jaw clenched.

“If I fail, you destroy my world.”

The forest went quiet.

“You’re the king of dragons. I’m just a human. I have every reason to be scared shitless of you.”

I took one step forward.

“But if the time comes…”

I raised my sword.

“I will kill you to save my planet.”

The smoke vanished.

No more roars that shook Remnant, no more dragons.

Only one fear left.

Me.

I felt him before I saw him.

My Thread Radar brushed something a little farther ahead.

I walked toward it slowly.

There he was.

My Shadow.

He wasn’t standing proudly like the others. He wasn’t looking to attack me from behind.

He was sitting on the ground.

Crying.

That disturbed me more than Adam’s sword.

He looked like me, but wrong. His skin was darker, like smoke trapped under flesh. His eyes were pure black. His body shook as he hugged himself, rocking slightly.

How could a Grimm-made thing cry?

I lowered my sword.

I didn’t think he would attack.

So I stepped closer.

“Why are you crying?”

His mouth moved.

“Fa…”

His voice barely came out.

“What?”

His head lifted.

“Failed.”

The word broke in half.

“I failed. You failed. We failed the whole world.”

His voice cracked.

“Won’t be strong enough!” The scream hit me harder than any weapon.

So that was it.

That was what I was afraid of. Not myself as a monster.

Not myself as some evil, power-hungry dictator.

Myself as a failure.

A version of me that gave everything, fought everything, suffered everything, and still wasn’t enough.

My stomach twisted.

That was possible.

That was the worst part.

It was very possible.

But I couldn’t live like that.

I couldn’t let that fear control me.

“I will kill the Witch,” I said.

The Shadow stopped crying.

“And I will kill those so-called Gods if I have to.”

It looked up at me.

“I will give my world and every other world a chance to live.”

The Shadow’s black eyes stared into mine.

“But what if we’re not strong enough?” he asked sadly.

I clenched my fists.

“My strength isn’t the only one that counts.”

The Shadow tilted his head.

“I won’t be fighting alone,” I said. “As much as I want to. As much as I keep trying to. I’ll never be strong enough to do all this by myself.”

The admission hurt.

But it was true.

“To win this, it won’t just take me. It’ll take everyone.”

The Shadow’s voice shook.

“But what if… not enough?”

I swallowed.

“I’ll find some way.”

The words were simple.

Maybe stupid.

Maybe childish.

But they were honest.

“I have every reason to fear failing. But if I spend all my time being afraid I’ll never make it, then I’ll never actually move.”

I looked him straight in the eyes.

“So I’ll move.”

The Shadow stared at me.

Then slowly, he smiled.

Not mockingly.

Not cruelly.

Like he was relieved.

Then he began to vanish.

I let out a long breath.

“That was… a bit of an emotional rollercoaster.”

The fog shifted.

Now there was only one thing left.

The Reliver.

I raised my Threads again.

“Where are you, you ugly bastard?”

My radar spread through the fog.

There.

In front of—

“Oh shit.”

The Reliver charged me.

Its massive body tore through the trees, arms swinging, black mist pouring from its body.

I quickly formed a thick Thread tripwire between two trunks.

The Reliver hit it hard.

Its legs flew out from under it, and the Grimm tumbled forward, crashing into the dirt.

I ran in and raised my sword. This time, I was ready.

I brought the blade down.

One of the Reliver’s orifices opened, and black mist spat out.

A Shadow formed instantly and took the hit for it, dissolving under my sword.

Then the Reliver swung one long arm at me.

I dodged by inches.

It was fucking fast.

Way too fast for something that ugly and tall.

I slashed back. My blade cut across the right side of its face.

A real gash opened.

The Reliver shrieked.

I grinned.

“There we go.”

Now I could touch it.

The Reliver stomped the ground like a giant angry child.

The impact sent massive tremors through the destroyed earth.

I lost my footing and fell.

When I pushed myself up, its mouth opened.

Pure black mist poured out.

The mist twisted, expanded, and shaped itself into something horrible.

A new Shadow.

No.

Not a Shadow.

A monstrosity.

Adam’s face.

Ebony’s face.

Clover’s face.

All of them fused together in one broken head.

It had five arms.

Four legs.

No clothes.

Its torso held a Grimm mask with a red gem in the middle.

I stared.

“Dammit. Second form.”

The Reliver vanished back into the fog.

The fused Shadow moved.

Adam’s speed.

Ebony’s force.

Clover’s surprise.

All combined.

It uppercut me with all five arms.

My head snapped back, and I flew off my feet.

My Aura flared from the damage.

“Fuck!”

I fired dozens of Thread needles into the thing.

Every needle hit.

It didn’t die.

My eyes widened.

“Oh, come on!”

This one wasn’t going down in one hit.

Time for the Dust.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the red cube Gyatso gave me.

Fire Dust.

I raised it toward my mouth.

The fused Shadow hit me from the side before I could swallow it.

I flew into a tree hard enough to shatter the trunk.

Pain burst through my body.

“Fuck, that hurt!”

The Dust.

Where was the Dust?

I looked around fast, and I saw it on the ground.

Under the Shadow.

I stared. “Come on, universe. Why the bullying?”

I formed a Thread battering ram and launched it at the Shadow.

It kicked the ram.

The whole thing broke apart.

“God, this thing is strong.”

It charged me again, swinging with reckless force.

I blocked with my sword, but the impact drove me back.

Then down. My knees hit the ground.

The fused Shadow kept pushing, slowly crushing me into the dirt.

My arms shook.

My teeth clenched.

While it focused on overpowering me, I sent one thin Thread crawling along the ground.

It wrapped around the Fire Dust cube.

The Shadow pressed harder. My elbows bent inward.

The Thread returned.

The cube touched my lips. I opened my mouth and swallowed it whole.

Fire exploded inside my body.

Power rushed through me first. Hot, wild, overwhelming.

For one beautiful second, it felt like I had complete control over everything.

Then the pain hit.

It slammed into me like a hurricane.

Not as bad as last time, but still horrible.

My veins felt like they were full of burning oil, my bones felt hot, and my lungs almost forgot how to breathe.

I smiled anyway.

“Now,” I growled, “time to end this.”

Threads erupted above me, igniting as Fire Dust flowed through them.

They twisted into a giant flaming claymore.

I swung it down.

The blade cut through the fused Shadow’s side and split it in half.

It dissolved instantly.

I blinked.

“Okay. That was way easier than I thought.”

You mean all that Shadow needed was one good hit.

I looked around.

The Reliver stood ahead, watching me.

“Time for some cool shit.”

I unraveled the flaming Thread claymore and pulled the Threads down onto my longsword. They wrapped around the blade, weaving together until the sword became longer, wider, and covered in scorching fire.

The Reliver backed away.

It was scared now.

I swung.

A wave of fire roared toward the Grimm, bright enough to blind it.

But instead of following the fire, I moved around it.

I slipped into the brush while the flame blocked its view.

The fire wave hit the Reliver.

It barely flinched, but it started looking around.

Searching.

After a few seconds, it turned its back to me.

Now.

I poured Aura into my legs and launched myself forward.

Before it could react, I jumped onto its back, grabbed its armor, and stabbed my flaming sword straight into its head.

The blade sank in.

The Reliver froze.

It didn’t disappear.

I grinned.

“Yes.”

Then its mouth opened.

Black mist started pouring out again.

My eyes widened.

“Oh fuck, you’re not dead.”

I was ending this now.

I felt the Fire Dust inside me and forced it into the Threads wrapped around my sword. The blade grew hotter.

Hotter.

Hotter.

The Reliver’s skull started melting around the blade.

Its body jerked.

The black mist stopped forming.

The Grimm shuddered once.

Then it went still.

Slowly, its body melted apart and evaporated into the same black smoke all Grimm became when they died.

For a second, I just stood there, breathing hard.

Finally.

It was over.

Then something hit me in the back and launched me into another tree.

The trunk cracked under the impact.

I slid down and hit the ground.

“The fuck was that?”

I forced myself up and turned.

Three Beringels stood in the ruined forest.

Two were of the normal Grimm variety.

The last one was older, bigger, and covered in bone armor and spikes.

An Alpha Beringel. Its fist was still extended.

It hit me.

I stared at them.

“Goddammit. More enemies?”

Then I realized.

I've been in the Reliver’s fog too long. It attracted Grimm.

“I hate Grimm so much.”

The two younger Beringels charged first.

I made two open Thread restraints and launched them forward like burning straitjackets.

The Threads wrapped around both younger Grimm, pinning their arms and legs as the Fire Dust began burning them.

That left the big one.

I rushed toward it.

Five feet away, I poured Aura into my flaming Thread blade.

The older Beringel roared, furious at me for restraining its comrades, and charged with one fist cocked back.

I swung with a fully powered Aura strike.

The attack carved a huge gash across its chest.

Then the wound burst into flames.

I stared.

“Holy shit.” The Dust effect carried into my Aura attacks.

That was awesome.

The Beringel didn’t agree.

It roared and lunged with both hands, trying to grab me.

It was way faster than a normal Beringel. If I encountered one before Aura, I would have certainly died.

I dodged back.

Or tried to.

One of the restrained Beringels broke out of its flaming restraints and kicked me in the back.

My balance broke.

The older Beringel grabbed me.

Its hands closed around my body like iron vices.

Then it started crushing.

“Aw fuck, this hurts!”

I summoned hundreds of Threads and stabbed into its hands.

Nothing.

Its hide was too thick. The pressure increased, making my ribs scream.

What about Dust? If I could use it in my Threads, maybe I could use it in my body.

I focused.

I pulled the Fire Dust out of my Threads and into myself.

Slowly, my body became an inferno.

My muscles burned. My skin heated. My strength surged.

With a yell, I forced the Beringel’s hands open.

I slipped free and hit the ground.

No pause.

No hesitation.

I ducked under its next swing, landed on its back, and grabbed its face.

I poured half the Dust into my left hand.

A flaming inferno erupted from my palm, comparable to the propulsion of a jet engine.

The Beringel screamed as my hand charred its face.

It grabbed me and threw me toward the other two Beringels.

As I flew through the air, they completely ripped out of their restraints.

Both turned toward me.

Both raised massive fists.

“Oh shit.”

I poured a burst of Fire Dust into my left hand and aimed it under me.

Creating a thruster-like effect, it altered my trajectory, making me miss the double punch from hell by inches.

I landed in a roll and looked around.

The older Grimm was on the ground, clutching its burned face and chest.

That was weird.

It looked like it actually felt pain.

The other two came running at me.

Fast, way too fast for gorilla monsters.

Both had fists cocked.

I formed two large Thread spikes in their path.

They ran straight into them.

Their own speed impaled them.

The spikes burned through their bodies, but they still weren’t dead.

I charged an Aura strike and ran to the closest one.

I aimed for the neck.

One swing.

The flaming blade cut clean through.

Its head flew off.

The body dissolved.

“One down, two to g—”

A fist slammed into the back of my head.

The older Beringel grabbed me again and smashed me face-first into the ground.

Again.

Again.

Pain became everything.

Then my Aura shattered.

Goddammit, I hate these fucks!

It snapped something inside me. Rage burned through the pain.

I unleashed the Fire Dust inside my body.

The Beringel’s hand started to melt.

It shrieked and backed away. I pushed myself up, breathing hard.

The two remaining Beringels were close together.

Good.

One attack.

Everything I had.

I wrapped my longsword in flaming Threads and kept increasing the blade’s size until it was almost as big as I was.

The heat warped the air.

The nearby grass blackened.

“Let’s finish this.”

I swung.

A massive wave of scorching fire tore out of my sword.

The heat was so intense that trees nearby caught fire without the flames even touching them.

Both Beringels were swallowed by the blaze.

I dropped to one knee.

“Oops,” I muttered. “Might have burned down the forest a little.”

Well, it's not like it mattered. A whole section of the forest was already burned down by Shadow Paarthurnax.

Inside the sea of fire, two figures stood.

You got to be kidding me.

“Are you serious?”

Then one Grimm’s head fell off and evaporated.

“Yes.”

The other figure stayed still.

I narrowed my eyes.

You’re alive, aren't you, Alpha?

Suddenly, it burst out of the flames in a full tackle.

“Knew it.”

Its hide was melted, bone armor was broken. It looked like death forgot to finish the job.

At five feet away, I sidestepped.

The moment its neck was exposed, I stabbed my sword through its throat and forced the blade downward.

The cut ripped through its neck.

Its head hung by a small thread of meat before the whole body began evaporating.

I stood there, panting.

“Thank God.”

Finally.

Actually finally.

It was over.

I looked around.

The once peaceful forest was gone. A square mile was literally gone, only ash and a molten crater.

Around me, trees were burning. Others had been smashed apart or knocked down completely. Grass had been incinerated into ash. The ground was torn open from Grimm charges, Thread spikes, and fire blasts.

Damn.

Fire Dust was not something to mess with.

My face hurt a lot.

I touched it and felt something wet.

Blood.

“Great. Probably got a concussion.”

I wiped my hand on my pants and started limping toward the Monastery.

“I hate Beringels,” I muttered. “They’re so strong.”

“And I hate damn Relivers.”

I hope I never see one again.

Then I thought about it.

A month ago, I could barely take one Beringel down with explosives and luck.

Now I had just survived three, one of them being an Alpha.

After killing a Reliver.

After facing my fears.

I looked back at the burning battlefield.

My body hurt. My head throbbed. My Aura was shattered.

But I was still standing.

A small smile pulled at my face.

“Guess I’m getting stronger.”

After a while, I made it back to the Monastery.

The place was still way too big for only 

Stone halls stretched high into the mountainside, banners hung from the pillars, and the air smelled like incense, old stone, and that weird peaceful silence that made me feel like I was supposed to whisper even when no one told me to.

The five Monks waited for me in the courtyard.

Gyatso looked like he had just won the lottery. The old man was smiling so hard I thought his face might crack.

Two of the other Monks were smiling too, calm and pleased, like this was exactly what they expected. Another one stood with his hands tucked into his sleeves, face completely stoic, unreadable.

Then there was Zenkou, the leader.

He looked pissed.

Not mildly annoyed. Not disappointed.

Pissed.

His eyes were locked onto me like I had just murdered his favorite dog instead of killing a Grimm that tried to trap me in my own head.

I stopped a few feet away from them, still feeling the weight of the Reliver’s death in my bones. My body was tired, my mind even worse, but I stood straight anyway.

Gyatso stepped forward dramatically, his robes shifting with the wind.

“Andres Mondragon,” he began, voice carrying through the courtyard, “for slaying the Reliver and surviving its illusion, we will—”

“Stop.”

Zenkou’s voice cut through the air like a blade.

The smile vanished from Gyatso’s face.

Zenkou stepped forward, fists clenched inside his sleeves, anger seeping into every word.

“I will not allow this,” he said. “I will not allow this future tyrant to train in our ways.”

Future tyrant?

Wow.

That was a lot of anger to throw at someone who just got back from nearly dying.

I opened my mouth, but before I could say something stupid, another Monk spoke first.

The same one who had made the deal with me.

“Zenkou,” he said sternly, “this decision is not yours alone. We all accepted the terms. Andres defeated the Reliver. By our word, he will be tested again.”

I glanced at him.

Okay. I liked this guy.

Fair. Calm. Actually reasonable.

Zenkou’s jaw tightened.

“I did not accept the deal,” he snapped.

Wow.

Real mature.

Before I could call him out, the Monk’s eyes narrowed.

“No,” he said. “You did not speak in favor of it. But you also did not object when the deal was made. You remained silent and allowed our word to stand. Do not twist silence into innocence now.”

Damn.

That was way better than what I would have said.

Zenkou looked like he had been slapped without anyone touching him.

The courtyard went quiet.

Even the wind seemed to shut up.

Gyatso’s smile slowly returned, though it was smaller now. More careful.

“Well spoken,” Gyatso said. Then he turned back to me. “Andres, it is time for your second test. Come.”

He turned and walked toward the Monastery.

The others followed.

Zenkou didn’t.

He stayed rooted in place, glaring at me like he wanted to burn a hole through my skull.

I stared back for a second.

Part of me wanted to say something. To tell him off. To ask him what the hell his problem was.

But another part of me remembered what the Reliver showed me.

Adam.

Clover.

Paarthurnax.

Myself.

So I said nothing and followed the Monks inside.

We returned to the same platform where they tested me before.

It hadn’t changed, but it felt different now.

The circular stone floor waited beneath me, covered in symbols I still couldn’t understand. The five carved circles surrounded the center, each one meant for a Monk. The air was cool and heavy.

Except this time, Zenkou wasn’t there.

Only four Monks took their places around me.

That should have made me feel better.

It didn’t.

Gyatso reached into his sleeve and pulled out one of those strange Dust cubes again.

Small. Clear. Glowing faintly from the inside like a trapped star.

He held it out to me.

“You know what to do,” he said.

I took the cube and stared at it for a second.

Last time this thing shoved me into the deepest parts of my own mind.

I placed it on my tongue and swallowed.

The effect came almost instantly.

The chamber blurred. The Monks stretched into smears of color. The stone beneath my feet disappeared.

Then everything went black.

Not dark.

Black.

Complete and endless.

I floated there, weightless, blind, alone.

Then a dark red glow appeared in front of me.

A voice spoke from the darkness.

“You’re back.”

I swallowed, or at least I tried to. I wasn’t sure if I had a body here.

“Good,” the voice said. “You did not finish seeing your strongest desire.”

Yeah.

I know.

I was kind of dragged out before the nightmare could finish.

The darkness shifted.

Images formed in my mind again.

I stood on top of a hill.

Behind me was a sea of people.

Below me was a mountain of corpses.

Enemies.

Grimm. Men. Monsters. Things I couldn’t even recognize.

All dead.

All piled high like proof of what I had become.

The sky above was red. Not sunset red. Crimson red. The kind of red that made the whole world look wounded but warm.

I watched myself walk down the hill.

The people below me bowed.

Thousands of them.

No.

Millions.

They dropped to their knees as I passed, heads lowered, hands in positions as if showing this version of me pure respect.

Or something they feared too much to look at.

My other self didn’t smile.

He didn’t look proud.

He only looked tired.

So tired.

He walked through the crowd until he reached a woman holding a baby.

She trembled as he approached.

For one terrifying second, I thought she was afraid of him.

Afraid of me.

But then she lifted the child toward him.

Like an offering.

My other self reached out slowly, carefully, and took the baby into his arms.

The child was tiny. Fragile. Completely helpless.

And when my other self looked down at them, his expression broke.

Not into cruelty.

Not into hunger for power.

Into pain, Deep, endless pain.

Then I heard his voice clearly.

“I will protect everyone.”

The words echoed across the entire world.

“No matter how strong my enemy is, nothing will get through me. Nothing will hurt you. Any of you.”

He lifted his head.

“I’ll make sure of that.”

My other self raised one hand toward the sky.

Crimson Aura exploded from his palm.

A beam shot upward, tearing through the clouds, splitting the heavens open. The ground shook beneath the crowd. The air screamed.

Then the beam spread.

It curved across the sky, stretching farther and farther until it wrapped around the world.

A massive, semi-transparent red barrier formed over everything.

A shield.

Around the entire planet.

I stared at it, breathless.

Wait.

Why would I do tha—

Then I saw them.

Two hands descended from beyond the sky.

Planet-sized.

One was sickly purple, rotting with darkness and void.

The other was bright yellow, burning with divine light.

My blood went cold.

Oh my God.

They came down together.

The hands of gods.

They slammed into the barrier with enough force to shatter continents.

The entire world screamed beneath the impact.

The red shield cracked.

For one second, I thought it would break, But then my other self roared.

The cracks burned brighter.

The shield pushed back.

The two divine hands were forced away from the world.

My other self held the baby closer.

His voice was softer now.

Broken.

“They’ll never hurt you again,” he whispered. “I swear.”

Then the sky split in half.

A blinding light filled one side of my vision. A bottomless darkness filled the other.

Both rushed toward me.

And then—

I gasped.

My eyes snapped open.

I was back in the Monastery.

The stone floor was beneath my hands. My knees had hit the ground at some point, though I didn’t remember falling.

My chest rose and fell too fast, like I had just run for miles.

The Monks were staring at me.

No one spoke.

Gyatso’s eyes were wide.

Actually wide, The cheerful old man looked shaken.

That was not comforting.

One of the Monks had taken a step back from his circle. Another had both hands pressed together in silent prayer. The stern Monk looked at me like he was trying to decide whether he had just witnessed salvation or disaster.

I slowly pushed myself to my feet.

“So…” I said, my throat dry. “Did I pass?”

Gyatso took a long breath.

“That was…” He paused, searching for the right words. “Eye-opening.”

That was not an answer.

He looked at the other Monks. They exchanged silent glances. Heavy ones.

Finally, Gyatso turned back to me.

“Andres Mondragon,” he said carefully, “your desire is dangerous.”

My stomach tightened.

“But,” he continued, “it is not born from conquest. It is not born from greed. It is not born from the wish to rule others.”

His eyes softened.

“It is born from protection.”

Gyatso stepped closer.

“You wish to stand between the world and anything that would harm it. Even gods.”

The room went silent again. When he said it like that, it sounded insane.

“And that path,” Gyatso said, “can save many lives.”

His expression darkened.

“Or destroy everything around you.”

I clenched my fists.

For once, I didn’t have a smart comment.

Because he wasn’t wrong.

What would come to the universe if I kill the gods.

Would it collapse on itself or maybe just start to die with them like I killed a gardens gardener.

Gyatso smiled again, but this time it wasn’t playful. It was serious. Almost sad.

“That is why you must be trained.”

My heart skipped.

Wait.

Really?

He lifted his hand.

“Andres Mondragon, by the judgment of the Balance of the Divine Lands, we accept you.”

For a second, I just stared at him.

Then the words finally hit me.

I passed.

Holy crap.

I passed.

Gyatso’s smile widened.

“We hereby grant you the title of apprentice Aura Monk of the Balance.”

The stern Monk gave a small nod. The others bowed their heads.

Gyatso leaned forward slightly, his eyes suddenly full of that terrifying old-man amusement again.

“So get ready, Andres.”

I blinked.

“For what?”

His smile became way too cheerful.

“For gruesome training.”

Instead of acting like some sissy, I smiled, happy to find a new way to become stronger.

That my desire to protect was accepted.