The examination hall was so silent that even breathing felt like a disturbance.
Rows of candidates sat shoulder to shoulder, spines straight, pens hovering over crisp white sheets. Afternoon sunlight spilled through tall windows, warm and deceptively peaceful.
Akira's pen paused above the first question.
Q1: Define Nightmareisation.
He inhaled slowly, grounding himself, and wrote:
"Nightmareisation is a phenomenon in which terror created during the dream state manifests physically in reality. These manifestations—Nightmares—remain active until the dreamer awakens, severing the connection."
His pen glided to the next line.
Q2: Define AM Weapons.
This one was easier. He straightened.
"Anti-Manifestation Weapons (AM Weapons) are specialized tools developed by the International Dream Hazard Agency (IDHA). They disrupt Manifestation Energy (ME), temporarily weakening Nightmare constructs."
Next.
Q3: What is ME Energy?
He wrote without hesitation:
"ME (Manifestation Energy) is an unidentified energy produced in the human body during extreme nightmares. It is responsible for bringing the dreamer's terror into the real world and is the core cause of Nightmareisation."
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Then came the final page.
Q22: Briefly describe the Crimson Event.
His fingers trembled.
The Crimson Event… twenty years ago.
A sky drenched in red.
Buildings collapsing like ash.
A scream—his mother's? His own? After so long, the memories had melted into one endless echo.
He shut his eyes.
…Focus. Just answer it.
He forced the words onto the page, clinical and detached.
"The Crimson Event was the first recorded case of Nightmareisation, originating from an unidentified child. The Karagumi village on the outskirts of Tokyo was completely destroyed, with nearly thousands of casualties."
He didn't write that he had been there.
He didn't write that he had survived that incident.
Some truths belonged only to him.
The bell rang the moment his pen touched the desk.
The candidates streamed into the corridor, chatter rising. Akira's room—214—was small and neat, smelling faintly of disinfectant. One bed, one desk, one window. Functional.
He tossed his bag on the mattress and sighed.
One exam down.
His stomach rumbled loudly.
"…Lunch. Definitely lunch."
The cafeteria buzzed with anxious energy. Akira grabbed a tray rice, fried chicken, watery miso and scanned the tables.
"Yo!"
A tall boy with messy brown hair waved wildly. His grin could've powered the entire academy.
Akira blinked. "…Can I sit here?"
"Obviously! I'm Ren." The boy beamed, practically vibrating.
Beside him sat a soft-spoken boy with glasses. "I'm Kaito. Nice to meet you."
Akira took the seat gratefully.
Ren leaned in. "So! Hard exam? Easy exam?"
Akira let out a small laugh. "Somewhere in the middle."
Kaito adjusted his glasses. "The written part was predictable. The practical, however… might be difficult."
Akira swallowed. "…Probably."
Ren slapped the table. "Well! We'll all pass anyway, right?"
Akira couldn't help smiling. "Yeah."
Then he saw her.
Silver hair neatly tied behind her neck, posture graceful, eyes sharp enough to carve through steel—she was eating alone.
Ayla.
The rumored prodigy from the capital.
A girl who radiated quiet storm energy.
Ren elbowed him lightly. "Thinking of talking to her?"
Akira nearly choked on his rice. "W–What? No! I just—she looks alone."
"So go! Worst case she ignores. …Nothing ventured, nothing gained."
Kaito sighed. "Ren… please don't encourage him."
But Akira stood anyway.
He approached her table, pulse racing like an exam timer on its last seconds.
"Uh… is this seat taken?"
Ayla looked up, her gaze cool and calm not hostile, just assessing.
"…No."
He sat, stiff as a board. "I'm Akira."
Their conversation was brief but surprisingly smooth. Ayla wasn't cold just precise. Every sentence was crafted with intention, like she disliked wasting words.
Her presence was like quiet snowfall: cold, gentle, and strangely soothing.
When Akira returned to his table, Ren wagged his eyebrows.
"Oh-ho? Our hero returns."
Akira placed his tray down, expression deadpan. "We talked about the exam."
Kaito pushed his glasses up. "I'm amazed she talked at all. Most say Ayla doesn't speak unless necessary."
Akira hesitated. Her voice lingered in his mind calm, steady, oddly comforting.
"…She's not cold," he murmured. "Just straightforward."
A deep chime suddenly echoed through the halls.
A composed voice followed:
"All candidates, report to Arena Block C. Practical Examination will begin shortly."
Instantly, the cafeteria shifted. Conversations died, chairs scraped, tension spiked.
Ren stood first. "Let's go, gentlemen. Destiny calls."
Kaito exhaled shakily. "O-Okay. Let's do our best."
Akira tightened his gloves.
His pulse quickened fear merging with anticipation.
This was it.
His first real step.
He breathed out slowly.
Let's begin.