Maybe it was because his skin was thin, but the guy bolted right after saying it—not before shoving something into Rod's hand.
Rod opened his palm.A scrap of paper.On it:
Frostmoon, Day 3.By the Nasser River.Dusk.
"…The hell?"
Rod wasn't in the habit of making appointments with other men.He crumpled the note and tossed it into the trash.
Right now, he had bigger things to worry about.
In theory, being labeled a Special Student was good news—it meant his "value to the Five Orders" had inched higher.But unease gnawed at him, as if something crucial had slipped past unnoticed.
And that case…The investigation at Firehammer Street had been a disaster.His blunder there had only made him look guiltier.
The only comfort: Inspector Lauren still seemed to be on his side.Assuming, of course, Lauren could stay standing.
Rod replayed every word he'd exchanged with the man, then added two names to the mental board:Lauren's teacher, Black Bear, and the blue-and-white lady, Qingyu.
Those three were his only allies.If you could even call them that.The connections were loose, fragile—ready to snap if the wind changed.
He'd have to tighten them somehow.
Black Bear and Lauren were both men—"banana techniques" weren't his specialty—so that left Qingyu.If he could establish a deeper connection with her, something mutually beneficial, she'd have a reason to keep him around.
Problem: he was broke, weak, and leagues beneath her in status.Bridging that gap wouldn't be easy.The safest play was still the oldest one: get stronger.
If his value was high enough, even if they did find him guilty, someone might still choose to keep him alive.
Which brought him to his real problem—he needed souls to grow stronger.
And in a country that branded "soul devouring" as heresy, that meant dancing on a razor's edge.
Yet what weighed on him even more was the countdown on the obelisk.Those pulsing, blood-red letters that screamed of something coming.Something wrong.
When the two sunsets ended—what would happen?What did "Invasion" mean?What was the "Nightmare" that would arrive?
The questions lay coiled in the back of his mind, whispering, sending tiny tremors down his soul whenever he thought of them.
He'd once heard that the oldest human emotion was fear—and the oldest fear was fear of the unknown.Now, he half regretted deciphering those damned inscriptions at all.
But sticking his head in the sand wasn't an option.
As one old sage once said: "The best way to destroy fear is to face it."
That inexplicable courage surged through him again.He sprinted toward the dorms, mind made up:Two sunsets left.He would be ready before they burned out.
The hallways were nearly empty; even the lamps in the common room had dimmed.The great clock atop the dorm showed Third Bell, Evening Hour—roughly 10:40 p.m.
It was late.
Rod took the stairs three at a time, jammed his key into the lock, and shoved the door open—only to freeze.
A blonde girl in a beige dress and knee-high boots was sprawled across his bed, sound asleep.Kashan.
Rod jabbed her in the shoulder.
She blinked awake, rubbing her eyes."You're finally back. I waited so long I fell asleep."Stretch. Yawn. Her modest chest made a valiant but hopeless attempt at grandeur.
She handed him a red notebook."These are my notes from this afternoon's meeting. Important stuff—you should review."
Her handwriting was elegant, annoyingly neat.
"This one's the course schedule. You were the only one who didn't pick classes."She spread a chart on the desk and began lecturing.
"At least three courses, no more than five. Finals are mandatory—fail and you lose credits. Don't waste time on 'History of Human Rise and Fall' unless you plan on being an archaeologist.'Geography' with Professor Binns, though, that's essential. Cavalry's all about mobility…"
Rod, eager to get her out so he could return to the dream, nodded at everything she said and followed her recommendations—except for Ancient Languages.That one was non-negotiable.
Kashan didn't argue much."Fine… linguistics matters too. You can learn a lot from old ruins if you can read the inscriptions."
Rod stared at her pointedly, hoping she'd take the hint and leave.
She stared right back."What? I told you, having kids comes later."
She pulled another small package from her bag and set it on the table."This week's personal supplies."
She began listing items like a seasoned pharmacist."Spirit Tree Dew—calms your mind, stabilizes disordered thoughts. If you feel off during training, one drop, orally.""Elfgrass Extract—sharpen focus, make your soul more sensitive, helps channel energy.""Hemlock Juice—painkiller. I heard you guys get something like, uh, an 'egg-change cycle'? It helps."
Seven small bottles in total, barely enough for a week.
"You're at Grade Nine stipend, so that's all you get for now," she added."But keep working hard—your pay'll go up fast. This batch's on me. When you do get a raise, you owe me double."
She flipped her golden hair, already halfway to the door."I'm heading out. Tomorrow's rest day—sleep in if you want."
Then she looked back with a grin."Good night, Mr. Special Student."Click—the door shut behind her.
Rod stood there for a long moment, staring at the dim room.
His gaze fell to one red paper packet on the table.Red Ash Powder.
According to Kashan, it could boost soul activity and amplify energy output—at the cost of nasty side effects with repeated use.For beginners, though, it drastically accelerated energy control.
As someone with "modern" sensibilities, Rod immediately recognized it for what it was.A stimulant. An enhancer.
If he used it during combat, he could break limits on the spot.And with Elfgrass, Spirit Dew, and the rest? He'd have a full emergency kit.
Excitement bubbled in him like champagne. He paced back and forth.Then a new idea struck.
"What if… I can bring physical items into the dream?"
His heart thudded.
He pulled Raven from his coat—the spirit-gun Lauren had given him.He already knew what it could do. On Firehammer Street, it had vaporized six enemies… and a water tower.
He eyed the pressure gauge on the back of the barrel—max scale: 40 Marks.When his soul energy reached that number, Raven would fire.From his test earlier, his personal max output was 21, peak intensity 98.So—roughly two seconds per shot, four to reach full charge.
But what if he took Red Ash first?Could he fire once a second?
He imagined it—the pure destructive rhythm of it—and almost burst out laughing.
At that rate, what "invasion" could possibly scare him?
But there was a catch: how to bring the gun into the dream world.
And that question devoured the entire night.
He spent hours jumping back and forth between reality and dream, testing every theory.For the first time, Rod explored the dream without interruption—and made major breakthroughs.
He finally understood the mechanism of entering and leaving.
When his mind entered absolute calm, his soul naturally sank into the dream.The lightning-shaped hand sign wasn't the key—it was just a shortcut to force his mind into that state.
Any external disturbance would break the calm, pulling his soul back to reality.In other words, it wasn't the gesture that mattered—it was focus.
That revelation cleared a fog that had hovered in his mind for days.He exhaled deeply; even his chest felt lighter.
Then came the real jackpot—he discovered how to bring objects into the dream.
Simply hold the item in his hand while entering, and it would cross over with him.And the same worked in reverse—items could be brought back.
He tested it: the Red Ash, Elfgrass, Spirit Dew—all carried over successfully.
But Raven, the gun, was a problem.
It was half a meter long; the grip alone filled most of his hand.No human could hold the whole thing securely.
Luckily, he soon realized it could be disassembled.
Without hesitation, fueled by that universal male instinct for taking things apart, Rod dismantled it piece by piece.
Then he tried to put it back together.
And stared.
At the ten or so extra parts now lying on the desk.
"…Good thing I didn't take it in first," he muttered, rubbing his temple.The night's repeated transitions had drained him. His mind was foggy, exhaustion settling in.
"Sleep first," he told himself."Recharge. Then face whatever's coming."
With that, Rod fell onto the pillow—and into a deep, dreamless, blissful sleep.