Eylan opened his eyes.
Silvery moonlight slipped through the small cabin window, carving a soft line through the darkness. He woke slowly, as if rising from a muddled dream. The first sign that something was wrong was the damp pillow beneath his cheek.
Tears.
He didn't remember crying.
But they were there.
A shiver ran down his spine. Cold sweat clung to his skin, leaving his simple shirt—thin and slightly worn—stuck to his chest. His breathing was far too fast for someone who had supposedly just woken up.
For a moment, he stayed still, trying to understand the tightness in his chest. Nothing came. Only a silent emptiness—so familiar it almost hurt.
With a slow motion, he pulled the damp fabric away from his skin, trying to regain some comfort. But the cold air of the early morning only made the shiver worse.
He sat up.
The cabin was small, but under the pale moonlight it felt even smaller. The narrow bed, the worn metal table, and the reinforced walls seemed to watch him in silence, as if guarding dreams he himself could no longer remember.
That quiet wasn't comforting. Quite the opposite. The loneliness was so dense it almost felt heavy.
Eylan inhaled slowly, trying to calm himself. The cold air cut into his lungs like a thin blade, helping him gather enough strength to stand. His feet touched the icy metal floor, and the sudden chill drew another involuntary tremor from his body.
He opened the door and stepped outside.
The corridor was completely empty, lit only by faint lanterns swaying with the ship's movement. The deep silence was broken only by his own footsteps, echoing as if he were the only living being left onboard.
When he reached the deck, the night wind hit him head-on, stealing away what little warmth remained in his body.
The moon hung high above, reflected on the sea like a trembling silver blade. Each wave seemed to carry fragments of light, like the scales of a sleeping monster lurking just beneath the surface. The salty air filled his lungs, bringing with it a melancholy he couldn't quite describe.
He murmured—almost without realizing he was speaking:
"I want to go home…"
The words died before they could drift far from his lips.
And the sea remained silent.
Eylan stood there for long minutes, trying to grasp memories that never came. The cold, the dried sweat on his skin, and the weight in his chest felt more real than any recollection.
When he returned to the cabin, the early morning felt heavier than before.
He lay down again, pressing his face into the still-damp pillow. He didn't know how long it took for sleep to return—only that when it did, the emptiness was still echoing inside him.
---
When he opened his eyes again, golden light streamed through the window.
Dawn had arrived.
The gentle warmth filled the cabin, driving away the night's chill. Eylan took a deep breath. His muscles were tense, but the light brought a subtle relief, as if the world had decided to be kinder for a few brief minutes.
Moving slowly, he got up and grabbed a clean shirt—still a bit rough—to replace the one soaked with sweat and tears. The feeling of dry fabric against his skin helped him regain a bit of balance.
He headed toward the ship's metal bathrooms.
In the shower, hot water poured over him like an unexpected embrace. Steam wrapped around his body, melting the tension built up in his muscles. With every breath, the tightness in his chest loosened just a little—just enough to keep going.
When he finally turned off the water, something inside him had gone quiet.
Still empty. Still confused.
But quiet.
It was dawn.
And for now, that was enough.
---
He stepped closer to the mirror, studying the young man reflected in it. His skin looked healthier again, carrying a faint, natural flush. Still, his eyes were ringed with dark circles, as if he hadn't slept at all.
After getting dressed, he decided to head to the cafeteria.
Walking casually, Eylan took in the ship around him.
It was breathtaking.
The metallic leviathan was colossal—over a kilometer long and as tall as a hill. A marvel of modern engineering, these massive carriers transported thousands of Awakened to the NQSC every year. From there, they were sent to the Awakened Academy, where they prepared for the day of the Winter Solstice—the day they would enter the Dream Realm for the first time.
As he walked through the corridors, Eylan noticed a figure approaching from the opposite direction.
It was Bloodwave.
The Saint of the House of Night.
He looked like he was on patrol, or perhaps heading to meet someone. Relaxed, his expression carried the calm of someone thoroughly accustomed to power.
Eylan watched him and, for a moment, felt surprised. The man was extraordinarily handsome—probably the most beautiful person he had ever seen: smooth ebony skin, perfectly white hair, and eyes shining in deep shades of indigo and blue.
His tall figure was as imposing as it was ominous.
Hiding his surprise, Eylan respectfully lowered his head and spoke calmly:
"Good morning, Saint Bloodwave. How are you?"
He spoke slowly.
Watching the man's face, he noticed there wasn't the slightest change in expression—not even a blink.
"I'm well, Dreamer Eylan," the Saint replied in the same tone. He seemed to be studying the young man, as if probing his deepest emotions.
"You know my name? I'm flattered!" Eylan said enthusiastically. But in his mind, something else echoed:
'Why does he know my name!? I didn't even say my True Name! It makes no sense for a Saint to care about me…'
In response to the boy's enthusiasm, a faint smile appeared on Bloodwave's face.
"I don't know if you've heard, but when someone with the lineage of the Goddess of Storms meets another descendant, it's possible to recognize them through a mystical sensation," the Saint explained.
That caught Eylan off guard. How could he forget? That had already been mentioned in the book. If Sunless—who at the time was only a Master—could sense it… then a Saint of the same lineage surely could.
Trying to keep his expression under control and calm his racing thoughts, Eylan chose a half-truth—sometimes better than a full lie.
"Looks like you caught me… Yes, I do have the goddess's lineage. It emerged during my First Nightmare—I don't really know how it happened, it just… awakened. I avoided talking about it because I don't want people knowing my trump cards. You never know what might happen." He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to look sincere, humble, and a bit embarrassed.
"You're right. Sometimes, Nightmare Creatures aren't the only enemies in the Dream Realm," Bloodwave said, understanding Eylan's reason for keeping something so important hidden.
After a few final words, they parted ways, and Eylan continued toward the cafeteria, reflecting on the encounter.
'It's really sad… in a world where corrupted gods are just waiting for the Dream Realm to swallow everything so they can devour humanity, people still fight among themselves. No wonder this is the realm of the War Goddess… it kind of reminds me of my own world.'
After a few minutes of walking, he reached the cafeteria. It was enormous, with enough tables to seat thousands of people. Brightly lit, but what stood out the most was the abundant buffet—especially the breakfast food.
Since it was still early, there were only a few people around. Taking advantage of the empty space, Eylan grabbed a plate and piled it high with food.
'The food might not be as good as in my world, since most ingredients disappeared after the global changes… man, I really miss good chocolate…'
'…But it's still good enough to fill my stomach!'
As he ate, he noticed three young people approaching. They looked about sixteen years old. They wore impressive armor that shimmered faintly before vanishing with a magical touch.
The one in front was particularly handsome: blond hair, blue eyes, sun-kissed skin like someone who lived outdoors. A small mole marked his face beneath his left eye. He stepped forward and asked politely:
"Excuse me, may I ask which clan you belong to?"
"And who are you?" Eylan replied, returning the question.
"Right, I haven't introduced myself yet.
I'm Willian, from the Lupus of Valor Clan. And you?"
"My name is Eylan. I'm a Dreamer," he answered briefly, hoping to avoid trouble.
"Hm… so you don't belong to any legacy clan? I saw you talking with Saint Bloodwave. He seemed interested in you… I thought you were from the House of Night," the young man said, sounding almost disappointed.
"We only exchanged a few words," Eylan replied flatly, wanting to end the conversation.
"I see. Thank you for satisfying my curiosity. Have a good day," Willian said, flashing an awkward smile, as if he wanted to say more but chose not to.
When the trio walked away, Eylan let out a sigh of relief.
What was that? A fated encounter? The arrogant noble who would humiliate him later? It felt like a cliché.
'Now I'm even afraid I might have the [Fated] attribute without knowing it…'
He pushed the thought aside and went back to his food.
While Eylan finished eating, the three youths walked toward the deck railing. One of them asked:
"Why did you let him talk to you like that? He's not even from a clan! He should've knelt and begged forgiveness!"
"I just felt that he's different. Not just anyone catches a Saint's attention. And not having a clan to rely on makes conquering the First Nightmare even more impressive. Don't underestimate that kind of person. Don't let nobility go to your head," Willian replied, scolding his companion.
"Yes, sir!"
"Don't talk to me like I'm some kind of general," Willian grumbled.
"But you're right—we should keep an eye on his movements. Taking notes never hurts," he corrected himself.
They walked away.
An unsettling chill settled in Eylan's stomach.
'Huh… that's a bad feeling. I think I should be more careful with what I say…'
When night fell, Eylan decided to stay up later, hoping to recover more memories.
But that night, the black signal was sounded.
A terrifying silence fell over the entire ship, like the omen of an impending catastrophe.
A warning.
A great danger was approaching.