"With all that said, we've reached the end of the orientation. Any questions?" Nayomi said, clasping her hands together and batting her eyelashes.
A few seconds later, a tall boy with the build of a Greek god and disposition of a nerd raised his hand.
He was seated in the first row.
Of course he was.
Bet he didn't realize his massive back was blocking sunlight and oxygen from reaching everyone else behind him.
Nayomi's expression flickered briefly, then she smiled. "Oh? We have an eager one. Please introduce yourself and proceed with your question. The rest of you, pay attention."
The chair slid back and the boy rose to his full height, prompting everyone nearby to gawk in awe.
What in Dreamsdale were his parents feeding him?! He looked like he could power an entire city grid during peak hours.
But whatever aura his physical prowess had earned him instantly yeeted itself out the window when he did the signature nerdy move: the glasses slide.
"I am Rin Paragon. Third son of the Paragon family—"
The aura instantly crawled back in through the window. He wasn't even allowed to finish his introduction before chaos erupted.
"Holy jizz—he's from the Paragon family?? Like THE Paragon?"
"Isn't his ancestor the reason 'Sleep Paralysis' nightmares exist? How cool is that?!"
"Wait, a Paragon… in Class C? That's crazyyyy."
"Well shit. I didn't think we'd meet a celebrity's celebrity on the first day."
The students were too busy chattering and gushing to notice it.
The way Rin's shoulders slumped slightly. The way his expression faltered—pride sanded down by exhaustion, like he'd been carrying the weight of his last name since birth and was finally sick of it.
Zev noticed. He recognized the look too well. A feeling so heavy it bent your spine.
His lips pressed thin.
Beside him, the red-eyed boy glanced up from his doodles.
The smirk that twitched across his face wasn't admiration, though. It was closer to disdain.
Another golden boy cracking under his own shine. It was predictable. Boring.
Zev frowned as a memory surfaced.
Last night, he'd received a video call from his beloved mother. She'd called to see if he'd settled into the dormitories.
Predictably, he was still bitter. He hadn't gotten over her betrayal, so he refused to say a single word during the call.
Alicia sighed. "Come on, sweetie. Are you really going to keep giving me the cold shoulder? You're making mummy sad."
Zev gave her a flabbergasted look, his puffy eyes widening.
Oh, she was the one who was sad? She wasn't the one who got sold off like an unwanted bag of skin and bones!
He grumbled beneath his breath, slightly angling himself away from the screen. Dramatic brat.
Eventually, Alicia got the message.
"Fine... I'll call you again tomorrow. Don't ignore my call, okay?"
Still silence.
Alicia pouted. She'd braced for this reaction. But it still hurt to see her sweetheart act so cold.
"I'll leave you to it then. Let me know if you need anything. Oh, and by the way," she suddenly added, like it had just occurred to her,
"I heard the Paragon family's third son is also enrolled at the academy. You should befriend him. And before you refuse... your father and his are quite acquainted. It wouldn't hurt to have a familiar face around."
Then, casually, like slipping in a knife: "You know, Kai wouldn't sulk like this. He would've already made five friends by now. Cheer up."
Zev's jaw clenched, but he stayed quiet. Then to Alicia's relief, he eventually muttered:
"O.k."
Alicia beamed. "Yay! Okay, honey. Mummy will talk to you later. Take care of yourself and study hard. Bye, love you~"
She blew a couple of air kisses before the line disconnected.
Zev's bubble of reminiscing was popped by a loud SLAP as Nayomi's hand collided with the board.
Silence fell instantly.
The scowl on her face was back, and there was a dark aura hanging over her like mist in a graveyard.
"If you little shits act up again, I'll kill you all," she growled.
Zev wasn't the only one who paled.
Then, like before, her frown flipped into a sweet smile. The creepy kind that made it worse.
Her voice lightened to a melody. "Please proceed with your question, Young Master Paragon."
Rin, visibly thrown off by her duality, coughed and cleared his throat.
"So, I couldn't help but notice that no entrance exam was required for our enrollment. I'm curious… What criteria were used to segregate us into classes?"
A tight breath, then, with a flicker of strain he tried to hide: "More specifically, why were we selected for Class C?"
The room rippled with murmurs. A Paragon stuck in C-tier? Yeah, it was truly a scandal.
Nayomi scratched her head bashfully, a contrast to her usual expressions.
"Oh, silly me! I failed to mention that part during the orientation. My memory is a bit volatile."
Then she elaborated. The initial class assignment was temporary. It would only hold for the first week.
"On Friday," she started, "you'll sit a neural simulation known as the Doomweaver's Nightmare."
As her finger touched the marker tray, the classroom flickered.
For half a heartbeat the overhead lights stuttered into a grainy, dreamlike frame rate.
A shadow spider unfolded from the corner of the ceiling, legs whispering over the tiles.
Somewhere behind them, a door slammed—loud enough to make three students jump (Zev included)—though the door hadn't moved.
Desk legs sank a fraction into the floor like soft bread, then popped back up. The air smelled faintly of burnt sugar with a mix of... disinfectant?
Some students gagged at the stench.
Then the vision snapped off, reality stabilizing itself like nothing had happened. Nayomi smiled as if she hadn't just previewed a collective breakdown.
"Students will be required to face and defeat their greatest fears. Because really, how can you herald cosmic terror when you still fear spiders or rejection?"
Their performance would determine placement: Class 1A, 1B, 1C… and 1F.
Class F was the bottom rung. The domain of the scaredy cats. The ones written off.
Zev's heart rate spiked just as murmurs broke out.
"She nearly forgot to tell us something that important? Are you kidding me?"
"Haha, it should have been obvious. But I can't say I saw that coming."
"Damn it, I'm cooked. You guys don't even want to know what my greatest fear is."
Then—
A frail blonde girl with freckles rose to her feet, hand trembling in the air.
"I–Iris Quinby," she squeaked. Her voice was like a breeze trapped in a teacup. "Miss Nayomi, if a student is unable to win against their greatest fear… will they die?"
Her knuckles were white on her notebook edge; Zev noticed little crescent indents in the paper where her nails had pressed through.
Nayomi's expression darkened at the question. Everyone instinctively held their breath. And then...
She nodded. "Yes."
Chaos ignited.
Students screamed. They'd actually die?! Some leapt from their seats. Others were already halfway to the principal's office with their enrollment cancellations in hand (like that'd bail them out of this).
Then Nayomi broke into a witch-like cackle.
"You silly children," she giggled. "No one is going to die from the test. As I said earlier, it's a neural simulation. Simulations aren't real. Just focus and give it your all."
Zev melted into his seat like a sad candle.
"Hah–" he wheezed. 'I thought I was a goner this time.'
'And it's confirmed now...' he groaned, clutching his head. 'My homeroom teacher is a full-blown psychopath. Oh man, I'm finished.'
After Rin and Iris took their seats, another student raised his hand. He had bright orange hair styled into messy horns and wore his blazer like he'd lost a fight with a coat rack.
"Name's Denny Gravel," he said, casual as ever. "Follow-up, Miss Nayomi—if we already have an Imprint, can we bring it online for, uh, self-defense in the sim? Or do we play it safe with vanilla survival drills?"
That lit the room like gossip.
"How bold~"
"Figures. The guy's a Gravel."
"My imprint's still dormant, thanks for rubbing it in, jerk face."
"Wait, no way—Denny Gravel, as in, Kenshi Gravel's kid?? That man took the Temporal Dissonance niche by storm a couple years ago!"
Nayomi's eyes smiled.
"Excellent question. Use what you have. If your imprint is active, you may channel it but within faculty constraints. If you're gloved, prioritize clean edges over flamboyance. If you're dormant… well, you are not completely hopeless; your emotional grounding, decision-making, and tidy ESC work might earn you hidden points.
Two bright rules: no targeting classmates, no feral episodes. Break either and you'll be crafting apology letters until your wrists molt." She tapped her wrist for emphasis.
"In the event that an Imprint awakens mid-trial, safety nets will temporarily drop and the student's scoring will be converted to an Awakening Pass. They are expected to resume the test immediately. Next."
Denny flashed a thumbs up, satisfied with her explanation—and for a split second those horn-shaped tufts in his hair looked almost… intentional.
A family quirk? A craft tell? He dropped back into his seat, still grinning like trouble.
Then came a second student, a girl with emerald braids and shimmering turquoise lenses.
"Hi! Um... I'm Nira Lane."
She stood up with a firm but polite posture. The lenses caught classroom light and, weirdly, echoed portal-colors: faint ribbons of Screamline red and Bleed Channel blue skating across the glass.
"My question's about the neural simulation itself. Will it be streamed? Like, on the portals?"
Nayomi smirked.
"Observant. No, the Doomweaver's Nightmare won't be publicly streamed. These sessions are confidential training modules. However... top scores may be featured on FCA's highlight reels for the Council to review."
Groans. Gasps. A mix of dread and ambition.
Then, seeing no other hands raised, Nayomi clapped her hands once.
"Well then, children. I'll leave you to mingle and get to know each other before the real lectures begin."
She turned toward the door, her walk uncanny, like a marionette strutting without strings.
"If you need to find me, I'll be in the faculty lounge. Don't knock like the dead. Later, kids~"
She vanished.
And the tension cracked instantly.
Students began chatting. Circles formed. Small laughter trickled in. Names and family backgrounds were exchanged.
"Hello! I'm Maybell Lachesis! What's your name?"
"Uno Dawn! You're so pretty~ What's your family's signature?"
"Dude, you look awfully familiar. I swear I've seen you somewhere before."
"Honestly, I never thought anyone would recognize me haha... I was a local model when I was little. Can't remember a single thing about it though."
Some had clicked already. Coincidental roommates, fast-talking extroverts, accidental sneeze buddies.
But Zev?
Zev was the outsider watching his classmates through the glass. He'd always been awkward, jumpy, and allergic to initiating conversation.
His palms began to sweat again.
Still, he braved it. He resolved to approach a girl first, logic dictating that they were generally easier to get along with and less likely to deliver a crushing blow of rejection... right?
He turned to the student in front of him. But just as he opened his mouth, another girl leaned over and started chatting her up.
He froze mid-breath… and died inside quietly.
'It's fine. She didn't ignore me. She just didn't see me. Yeah, it's nothing to be embarrassed about.'
His thumb tingled, but he shook his head and took a deep breath.
One more try.
A boy this time...
'Ugh.'
He turned to his right—black hair with long bangs, tired black eyes, and pointed ear-tips peeking through.
The boy who'd scribbled like midterms were due yesterday.
"Hi, I'm Zev," he said with a brave smile, even though his fingers trembled. "W–What's your name?"
The boy glanced briefly, then looked away without a word.
He pulled out his headphones and a thick, annotated book titled "Trauma Architecture and the Dreaming Body." He plugged them in, flipped the book open, and disappeared into academia like Zev didn't exist.
Zev deflated like a balloon. His ears flushed. His eyes pricked with tears.
'Well, that was embarrassing. I'm never trying that again.'
He was still sulking when he heard it—
"Pfft."
A low, snorted laugh that felt too deliberate. He turned, and there he was: the boy with the uncanny red eyes and a notebook full of nightmares.
Zev flinched out of his daze when the boy's eyes crinkled at the corners, that unsettling smile pulling at his lips.
"Looks like rejection's contagious," he said with a flash of canines sharp enough to cut. "It's a good thing loners like us… stick together, am I right?"
► — ✚
[ Lore drop: Imprints ]
Every Dreamweaver (Craftian) carries an Imprint: a mark etched into their being that shapes how they twist dreams. It isn't chosen. It isn't taught. It's awakened, usually when life snaps hard enough to change you forever.
Imprints come in many kinds:
𖤐 Psychological: bend minds, warp perception, choke with illusions.
𖤐 Physical: mutate biology, twist flesh, alter physics.
𖤐 Emotional: ignite longing, guilt, fear, awe; feelings that drown logic.
𖤐 Sensory: hone sound, scent, taste, touch until they torment.
𖤐 Temporal: trap dreamers in loops, déjà vu, moments that won't stop.
𖤐 Environmental: shape the stage itself: domains, architecture, climate.
Some are dormant, waiting to be cracked open. Others are gloved, suppressed because they're too unstable. And a few… burn too bright for even their owners to survive, so they're sealed.
Here in Fearcraft Academy, Imprints are currency, weapon, identity. They decide how far you'll rise...
...or how fast you'll break.