A thin young man with pallid skin and dark circles carved deep beneath his eyes slumped against a rusty bench, its surface scarred by layers of faded graffiti.
The bench sat directly across from a police station—bright lights, reinforced doors, authority incarnate.
Like it could save him now.
In his trembling hands, Orion clutched a cheap energy drink—the kind only the desperate and broke ever bought. The can was ice-cold, fresh from the vending machine, its chill biting into his palms.
It was a pathetic shield.
Against sleep.
Against fate.
Against the chains dragging his eyelids down inch by inch.
Orion knew it with absolute certainty.
He wouldn't see the sunrise.
He raised the can and drank.
SFX:—SSSHT—GLUG—
His face twisted instantly.
"Ugh… bitter as hell!"
The sour liquid burned his tongue. He glared at the can like it had personally betrayed him.
"Should've grabbed bread instead."
With a tired shrug, he forced down another gulp.
It tasted like regret.
But it worked.
The fog pressing against his skull thinned—just enough to keep him standing.
"That's life when you're dirt poor."
He hadn't slept properly in days.
The crushing drowsiness had started a week ago, subtle at first. Then heavier. Night by night, tightening its grip. At first, he blamed exhaustion—scraping by in the outskirts was a full-time war.
But Orion wasn't stupid.
The Nightmare Spell had marked him.
In this shattered world, where elite Awakened wielded godlike powers to battle horrors leaking from the Dream Realm, the Spell was a twisted so-called gift. It targeted the young. The unlucky.
Dragged them into lethal trials.
Fail to survive the First Nightmare before falling asleep?
A gate would rip open.
A Nightmare Creature would spill into reality—
—and slaughter everything nearby until an Awakened arrived to clean up the mess.
Orion had no delusions.
He wasn't chosen.
Wasn't special.
Wasn't a hero.
An orphan raised in the slums learned fast: keep your head down, scrape by, survive.
The Spell didn't care.
It was random.
It was cruel.
He exhaled heavily and pushed himself up.
SFX:—CREAK—
His clothes hung loose and ragged on his skeletal frame—perfect for a slum rat. Dark hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat and neglect.
He crushed the empty can in his fist.
SFX:—CRUNCH—
A lazy toss toward the trash bin.
Miss.
The can clattered against concrete.
"Damn it…"
He shuffled over, picked it up with a low grumble, and dropped it in properly.
Why litter on your last night alive?
Hands buried deep in his pockets, Orion stepped into the dim street. The night air was cold, sharp—good for keeping the blood moving.
Walking meant staying awake.
Staying awake meant delaying the inevitable.
He wandered the cracked sidewalks of the outskirts, streetlights flickering like dying stars above him. His muttering echoed off abandoned buildings, complaints swallowed by the night.
Minutes blurred.
Then an hour.
Then—
A sound.
Low.
Unnatural.
SFX:—HMMMM—CRACKLE—
It drifted from ahead, threaded with sharp electrical snaps.
The subway station.
Any sane person would turn around.
Curiosity killed faster than hunger out here.
But tonight?
Orion's life was already forfeit.
What was left to lose?
A bitter smirk tugged at his lips.
"Why the hell not?"
He changed direction.
SFX:—STEP—STEP—
Descending the filthy stairway, the air thickened—stale, metallic, reeking of rust and abandonment. No trains ran this late. No people lingered here.
Only ghosts.
Flickering lights buzzed overhead.
SFX:—BZZZT—BZZZT—
They cast long, warped shadows across cracked tiles bleached of color. Trash littered the floor, crunching beneath his worn shoes.
SFX:—CRRSH—
Deeper in, the hum grew louder.
Stronger.
Pulling him forward like a hook sunk deep into his gut.
At the platform's edge—past the yellow line
—something glowed.
Blue.
Pulsing.
Alive.
A portal.
A vortex of swirling azure light embedded in the station wall, humming with alien power. The surface rippled as if breathing—slow, patient, expectant.
Inviting.
Orion's heart slammed against his ribs.
SFX:—THUMP—THUMP—THUMP—
This was it.
The gate to his First Nightmare.
As exhaustion finally claimed him, his knees buckled.
The world tilted.
And a cold, emotionless voice echoed inside his mind.
[Aspirant Orion detected.]
[Welcome to the Nightmare Spell.]
[Prepare for your First Trial…]
The lights died.
The sound vanished.
The world went black.