Drayen and Kael only needed a place to stay for two weeks at most, so they chose a cheap inn.
They took three rooms—one for Drayen and Kael, one for Kira, and one for Zuko and Jim.
Kael dropped the bags from his shoulders with a dull thud. "Finally. Relief from this annoying backpack."
He rolled his neck and let out a long sigh before adding, "Let's finish absorbing the cores. After that… how about a spar?"
He raised a fist as he grinned.
Drayen smiled tiredly. "Only if I manage to unlock an attack skill first."
He paused, then waved a hand. "You go ahead and start absorbing. I need to make a call."
Kael snorted. "I won't use attack skills if you haven't gotten any."
Drayen raised his fist in response and left the room without another word.
He went to the inn's call booth room. After phones became common in the Nightmare Realm, their high prices turned communication into a business. As a result, booth systems were introduced to make money. They provided normal cellphones—not the large, heavy models—and charged manually based on time.
Drayen approached the innkeeper. The inn was run by an old woman. She didn't seem awakened; he didn't sense any aura from her. He could be wrong, since Nightbornes could hide their aura, and he didn't possess any ability to detect it.
The chances of awakening were around eighty percent, and most awakened individuals were Third Grade or Second Grade. It was likely that this woman belonged to the remaining twenty percent who never awakened. When someone officially became a Nightborne after absorbing a core, they gained an aura due to the energy produced in their heart. Although this aura could be controlled, doing so required constant concentration. If someone possessed a detection ability, hiding it normally wouldn't work.
He spoke in a normal tone.
"I want to make a call."
"For ten minutes, one hundred kami, young man," she said, handing over the phone with a polite smile.
Drayen took the phone and walked into a small room past the counter. He could have waited for Kira and used her phone, but he wanted to try calling now. A hundred kami wasn't much.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
Nobody picked up.
He sighed, a hint of frustration in his eyes, and dialed again. On the second ring, a girl's voice came through. It was his sister. He had been trying to get in touch with her, but at the time she hadn't been in the Nightmare Realm. She had been in Tellus, investigating what happened in Etherion and looking after their mother. Only now did she have the chance to enter the Nightmare Realm.
"Hello!"
"Hey! It's me, Drayen."
There was a moment of silence before a barrage of questions flooded his ears.
She was relieved and happy to finally hear from him—but she was also extremely worried.
"Drayen—are you okay?"
"Nothing happened to you, right?"
"I was so worried…"
The words tumbled over each other, barely giving him time to respond.
Drayen let her vent, the rush of words spilling out on the other end of the line. He waited until she was out of breath.
Then he spoke.
"I'm fine, sis. Don't worry—calm down."
"Calm down."
"Where are you?" she asked.
Drayen hesitated before answering.
"Rock Apple Town."
They spoke for a while after that. As the conversation settled, Drayen pieced together more of the situation—most of it confirming what he had already learned from Zuko after Zuko had gotten in touch with his father.
Nothing had changed.
Houndswell Village had imposed strict conditions and banned the use of the portals for three months. Officially, it was blamed on Kael injuring a member of the local nobility. Unofficially, it was a staged excuse.
Even if the portals were reopened, it wasn't as though Kael—or anyone tied to him—would be allowed to pass.
Her voice softened with relief. "That old man you mentioned… it looks like he pulled some strings to tighten things further. Until Etherion delivers the full batch of promised goods, it's not safe for you to return."
Drayen's hand trembled slightly around the phone. His lips parted, then steadied. His gaze filled with determination.
"I'm not planning on coming back just yet."
This was his chance.
He finally had an identity. He was inside the Nightmare Realm. He could grow stronger—stronger than he ever could back home. He had decided this long before making the call.
"Wh… why?"
Her voice dragged, the question half-formed, as if she already knew the answer.
She changed it instead.
"What about Mom, then? Huh," anger crept into her tone.
Drayen didn't dodge it. "Tell her about the Nightmare Realm. I'll send photos and videos of myself when Kira returns. That way she'll know I'm fine. You can do that much, right?"
There was silence.
Then she exhaled slowly.
She understood how big this opportunity was.
In Tellus, universities, institutions, and organizations completely monopolized the portals. They demanded half of the loot in exchange for access.
Here, he wouldn't have to give up his cores. The Nightmare Realm had taxes, but they never taxed cores gained from killing tainted—because they actively encouraged their extermination.
If he had fled to the Nightmare Realm before, identity would have been a problem. They couldn't stay forever—identity issues would eventually force them back—but Rock Apple Town had given him one.
A chance to grow stronger.
She didn't want to interfere with such an opportunity—not for her brother. After a long pause, she let out a sigh.
"Okay," she said. "I'll do it. But… are you sure we should tell her everything about the Nightmare Realm?"
Drayen hesitated. If their mother barged into Etherion demanding answers, it would only make things worse.
"Yes, sis," he said at last. "Go ahead."
On the other end of the line, his sister fell silent again. She searched for alternatives—something safer, something softer—but none would satisfy their mother.
In the end, this was the best choice they had.
"Okay. Remember to take care of yourself and call regularly—or I'll drag you back to Tellus," his sister warned before talking a few more moments and hanging up.
---
A boy with leaf-green hair was trembling as he stood.
A monkey, around a foot tall, was biting his legs. It had no fur—only bare skin. It looked extremely ugly, with a single strand of hair growing from its back. If someone saw it for the first time, they would probably puke from its ugliness. He kicked it away, but it kept hopping around and returning to bite him.
He had many injuries on his body. His clothes were torn in various places.
His whole body was drenched in sweat from fear. His jaw tightened as he stood against the single-hair monkey, one of the weakest tainted. It was weak, but these creatures often came in groups led by a mutated version—one with a single hair on its head instead of its back.
Since it was alone, it was also afraid. In its frenzied state, its attacks were random.
Kira frowned and spoke, "Kill it already, Zuko."
Zuko was holding a knife, trying to kill the beast inside the cage. When alone, this tainted would often run away, which was why the fight was done in a confined space.
"Keee… kee."
It jumped from pole to pole, suddenly landing on his face. It bit him again before hopping away.
Jim commented, "With a gun, he did better that day."
Kira shook her head. "That boy fears too much. Using a gun won't solve the problem. He is a Nightborne—he must fight like one."
Jim shouted encouragement, "Use your new skills, Zuko. Bind it first."
Zuko's fingers grew into vine-like tendrils as he tried to capture the monkey. But the moment the vines touched its body, the sensation overwhelmed him, and he released it immediately.
Kira didn't know what to do at this point. She was growing frustrated.
Zuko had the Venus Green Bloodline. She found out it was a Super Grade bloodline, at that.
He had the same potential as Kael—if not more. Right now, he was like a scared tiger cub that hadn't grown yet.
"Ignore the sensation," she said, repeating the same advice she had been giving for over an hour.
Jim fell silent. Zuko was too afraid to act.
Kira sighed. "Then throw the knife. Keep throwing until you hit it."
Zuko began throwing the knife. The monkey was agile, and he couldn't hit it properly. Even when the knife struck, it only hit with the handle or the blunt side, failing to deliver a fatal wound.
But as the monkey's injuries worsened, its movements slowed.
Zuko tried again and again to trap it with his vines.
He was exhausted. He muttered, "Green rope vine."
This time, the vines clung to its legs. The sensation of contact made his stomach churn. He was on the verge of puking from fear and disgust.
Still, he held on.
After everything that had happened, he needed to hold on. He needed to change.
He stepped forward, his legs trembling. He pressed the knife to the monkey's neck, holding its mouth shut to stop it from biting.
His hand shook.
Jim advised, "Close your eyes and finish it."
Zuko hesitated for a few more moments. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and finally cut its neck.
Blood splurted out.
He felt it splashing over his body—his face, his eyelids, his hands.
Slowly, he opened his eyes. The blood was a purplish red. Feeling the warmth and texture of the flesh in his hands, Zuko puked uncontrollably.