The silence inside the cave was heavy, oppressive, and it pressed down on Aurel like a weight he couldn't shake off. The only sound was the slow drip of water from the icy stalactites hanging above, each drop echoing faintly through the cramped space. But beneath that silence, his Sixth Sense hummed—no, screamed—at him.
Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.
Aurel lay still, his metallic body frozen against the cold stone floor, unable to do anything but wait. The uneasy prickling at the back of his mind intensified, sharpening into a warning.
Then it emerged from the shadows.
A figure—lean, humanoid, and pitch-black, its skin absorbing what little light filtered into the cave. It moved silently, each step smooth and deliberate, as if it had all the time in the world. Its eyes glowed faintly, icy blue orbs that flickered with an eerie, inhuman light. The coldness radiating from those eyes wasn't just physical—it was deeper, like it could pierce through flesh and soul alike.
As soon as Aurel saw it, something primal stirred within him. His heart, though slowed by his metallic state, felt a sudden jolt of fear. This creature—whatever it was—was not something to be trifled with. His instincts screamed that it was powerful. At least Tier 3, maybe higher.
The creature stopped a few steps away, crouching slightly as it observed him. Its glowing eyes flickered, narrowing in sharp focus.
And in that moment, Aurel knew: It knew. It could tell he wasn't just some discarded object or enchanted relic. Somehow, this thing saw past the metallic sheen covering his skin and knew exactly what he was.
It knows I'm alive...
Aurel's heart raced. His body refused to respond. The metallic coating still trapped him, locking him in place, but his mind was screaming, adrenaline flooding his thoughts.
The creature tilted its head, curious, as if savoring the moment. Its glowing blue eyes shimmered—and then, in an instant, they flashed.
Pain exploded in Aurel's head, a searing, blinding force that tore through his mind like jagged glass. His vision shattered, twisting and contorting as the world around him spun wildly out of control.
The cave dissolved into fragments, swirling in a chaotic blur of light and shadow, until there was nothing left but darkness.
And then—
He was standing in his old room.
Aurel blinked, disoriented, as the world reassembled itself around him. The familiar scent of his family home filled his senses: the faint smell of old wood, clean linen, and the warmth of sunlight streaming through the windows. The bed was exactly where he remembered it—pushed against the far wall beneath a shelf cluttered with books and trophies from his childhood.
His heart clenched. What the hell...?
He glanced around, and everything was exactly the way it had been two years ago. The posters on the walls, the school textbooks scattered across his desk, the jacket slung lazily over his chair. It was all here—every detail, perfectly preserved.
Aurel's mind raced, confusion mixing with panic. This isn't real. It can't be real. But it felt real. The warmth of the sunlight, the faint hum of the air conditioning, even the soft sound of footsteps coming from the hallway outside his door—it was all too vivid, too perfect.
He stumbled back, his hands gripping the edge of his desk to steady himself. But his hands… they weren't metallic anymore. They were flesh and bone, just as they had been two years ago—slim, a little rough from training, but completely human.
Aurel's breathing quickened, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. What the hell is this?
Then the door to his room creaked open.
His heart stopped.
Standing in the doorway was his mother, wearing the same soft expression she always did, her dark hair falling in gentle waves over her shoulders. She smiled at him, her eyes warm and full of affection.
"Aurel, sweetheart," she said, her voice soft and familiar. "You've been in your room all day. Aren't you hungry?"
Aurel's stomach twisted into a knot. His mouth opened, but no words came out. He felt frozen—not by metal this time, but by the sheer impossibility of what he was seeing. His mother had left two years ago, abandoning him to chase power with his father. Yet here she was, standing in his doorway, as if nothing had changed.
His instincts screamed at him that something was horribly wrong. This wasn't real. It couldn't be.
But it felt so real.
"Aurel?" his mother asked again, her head tilting slightly in concern. "Is everything alright?"
He wanted to move—wanted to shout, to demand answers—but his legs felt heavy, as if they were made of lead. His pulse pounded in his ears, and the room around him swayed, his vision blurring at the edges.
"This isn't real," he whispered under his breath, clutching his head as the disorientation grew worse. "This isn't real."
His mother's expression softened, and she took a step closer. "What's wrong, honey? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Aurel flinched at her words, his Sixth Sense buzzing again—sharp and insistent. This was wrong. All of this was wrong. But his mind felt foggy, his thoughts sluggish, like he was trapped in a thick haze.
The warmth of the room, the kindness in his mother's voice—it was all so tempting, so easy to sink into.
But then, at the very edge of his awareness, Aurel felt something—something cold, lurking just beyond the walls of this illusion. A presence. The black figure from the cave. It was still there, watching, waiting.
This isn't real, Aurel told himself again, clenching his fists. It's a trick. I have to get out.
His vision swam, the edges of the room twisting and distorting. His mother's face flickered, her features warping for a brief moment before returning to normal, the smile still plastered on her face.
"Aurel," she said gently, "come here. Everything's alright. You don't have to fight anymore."
The words hit him like a punch to the gut. You don't have to fight anymore.
It would be so easy to believe her. So easy to let go.
But he couldn't.
He clenched his jaw, his heart hammering in his chest. This wasn't real. It didn't matter how warm the sunlight felt or how familiar his mother's voice sounded—none of it was real.
He forced himself to take a step back, away from the door, away from the comforting illusion. His hands curled into fists, nails digging into his palms. The pain helped ground him, cutting through the fog in his mind.
The room around him flickered again, the edges crumbling like ash in the wind.
"No," Aurel whispered, shaking his head. "I'm not staying here."
The figure lurking beyond the illusion seemed to sense his resistance. The cold presence pressed harder against his mind, trying to drag him deeper into the false reality.
But Aurel wasn't going to let it win.
With a surge of willpower, he focused every ounce of his strength, every shred of defiance, into breaking free.
The walls of the room trembled, the illusion cracking like glass. His mother's face twisted into something unrecognizable, her features flickering in and out of existence.
Aurel squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth as the illusion shattered around him.
And then—
The warmth was gone. The scent of wood and linen vanished.
He was back in the cave.
The black figure stood over him, its glowing blue eyes narrowed in annoyance, as if displeased that he had escaped the trap.
Aurel gasped for breath, his heart pounding in his chest. The metallic coating still locked his body in place, but his mind was sharp now, the fog lifted.
The figure didn't speak—it didn't need to. Its cold eyes said everything. This wasn't over.