Here was Avi again, adrift in an uncharted, weightless space. It felt different from the last time he drifted through this mysterious void; there was no sense of being an outsider, a mere observer. This time, he felt immersed, part of the world around him. The familiar void that accompanied these dreamlike states had vanished, replaced by the cool, solid stone beneath his feet and the pungent scent of dust and earth that seemed to fill the air. It was as if he could almost feel the weight of the world pressing down on him as he stood in the same castle training ground where he had first experienced this strange state.
Everything was as he remembered, yet somehow altered.
Stone walls loomed around him, lined with wooden training dummies and weapons displayed like a chaotic showcase. Though it was all eerily familiar, there was something undeniably different. That was when his attention settled on him—the young knight, moving with perfect form, wielding twin daggers.
At first, Avi dismissed it as déjà vu, thinking this was just a repetition of the past dream. But no, this was not a repeat. The young knight was better. Much better.
Avi's internal groan was palpable. Just what I needed—another talent show. He had only just managed to catch up with what the knight had shown him before, and now he was demonstrating techniques that seemed to be the result of another century's worth of training. Avi couldn't help but roll his eyes. "I'll need another training montage for this," he muttered, the unspoken challenge hanging in the air. It was a challenge he would take on whether he wanted to or not.
The young knight's movements were more fluid, more precise than before. The way he maneuvered the daggers was not just skillful but commanding. Each cut of the air, each flick of his wrists seemed effortless, showing a refined mastery that left Avi transfixed.
But then, Avi noticed something he hadn't before. The daggers were not as pristine as in his previous dream. The metal was battered, edges nicked and worn from use. His gloves, tunic—everything about him bore signs of relentless training, as if he had spent years honing his skill without pause. The once-shining knight in the dark tunic was as regal and graceful as ever, but now there were details that spoke of dedication, that hinted at the trials he had endured. This wasn't just performance; it was a testament of what seems to be years of hard work.
Just when Avi thought he had seen it all, the young knight did something that made his blood run cold.
The daggers glowed. A faint bluish hue spread across the blades, and for the first time, Avi felt the air around him thrum with intensity. It wasn't just the shine of the metal; it was something powerful, palpable. The daggers vibrated softly, a subtle hum that resonated through the air, and then the knight moved in a blur. His body cut across the space in a perfect cross pattern aimed at the practice dummy before him.
There was no hesitation, no flourish—just the sharp, precise strike.
Avi was frozen, unable to move as he watched the daggers cut through the wooden dummy with effortless ease. It was as if the blade was hot and the wood butter, leaving the dummy in splinters. Even the stone wall behind it was sliced through cleanly, a mark of raw power etched into the rock.
Avi couldn't suppress the outburst that followed. "What the fuck was that?!"
The young knight did not react. He stood, expression neutral, eyes sharp and calculating. The daggers in his hands cracked, the energy that had fueled them now spent. The cracks spread, and with a soft hiss, the weapons crumbled into dust, disintegrating before Avi's eyes.
The knight turned away, unfazed, as if his display had been nothing out of the ordinary. He started walking, the sound of his boots echoing off the stone floor, a rhythmic beat that stayed with Avi.
Before he vanished, the knight paused, glanced back over his shoulder, and a wicked grin tugged at his lips.
"Try to copy that," he whispered, his voice laced with challenge.
Then he was gone.
Avi stood there, stunned and speechless, the moment seared into his mind. As the knight's words echoed, realization dawned on him: this was no mere dream. This was a test. A challenge. And damn it, he would rise to meet it.
A strange sense of resolve coursed through him. It was as if something deep within had stirred, urging him to take up the challenge. The knight had shown the path; now it was his turn to walk it.
He focused, trying to push forward, to move, to respond. For the first time, he felt it—the sensation that he was in control of his own body, as if it were his to command. His hands reached out, fingers flexing, thinking of the practice dummies before him.
Nothing.
Frustration flared. He narrowed his eyes and concentrated harder. Focus. He imagined the dagger in his grip, the weight of it, the feel of its metal against his palm, just like the knight's. He needed this, needed to make it real.
Something shifted.
Gradually, the weight of a weapon began to settle in his hands. It wasn't perfect—nowhere near the polished, glowing daggers the knight wielded—but it was real. He had daggers.
Staring at his hands, disbelief washed over him, but he pushed it aside. He wasn't done. Not yet. He stepped up to the practice dummy, a spark of determination lighting in his eyes. He mimicked the movements he had just witnessed. His strikes were clumsy, his body awkward as he stumbled through spins and thrusts. He missed cuts and lost balance, but he didn't stop. He couldn't.
He focused, repeating the moves. Time became a blur. His muscles ached, his body screamed in protest, but his mind grasped the rhythm, the pattern. He practiced tirelessly, the feeling of failure stinging with each imperfect attempt. The final strike—the one that would ignite the dagger with blue energy—eluded him. Every time he tried, the blade's energy flickered and died before he could complete the motion.
Still, he didn't stop. He couldn't.
The knight's footwork, that precision, haunted him, demanding a perfect execution he couldn't reach. The ache of missteps seared into his body, but his mind pressed on. He knew what to do, but his body fought to follow.
Days passed, or what felt like days. The stone walls of the castle became his prison and sanctuary. The practice dummies became his silent audience. The knight's grin never left his thoughts.
Then, one day, it happened.
A shift in the air, a subtle hum, like the dagger's energy coming to life. The blue glow flared, faint but unmistakable, as the blade cut through the dummy.
A voice broke through his concentration, familiar and warm, and it cut through the haze of exhaustion.
"Well done."
And then, the dream unraveled, pulling him back.
Avi awoke to silence. No cheers, no chaos, just the rhythmic breathing of his friends nearby and the soft rustling of blankets. He blinked, the weight of sleep pulling at him, muscles aching. The room was unfamiliar—no gymnasium floor, no storage room, just well-made walls that were a stark contrast to the ones he was used to.
He tried to sit up, but his body betrayed him, launching him into a fit of coughing so fierce it left him gasping for air. He groaned, the pain sharp and real. Instantly, Ken and Emily shot up, their expressions filled with concern.
Ken's face twisted with worry, but he worked hard to keep his "cool guy" act intact. Emily, on the other hand, was visibly panicked. She grabbed his hand, eyes wide, voice shaking.
"Avi! Oh my God, you're awake! Thank goodness! I—I thought—" Her voice cracked, followed by a soft sob that made his chest ache.
Ken's tone shifted, serious and warm as he placed a hand on his shoulder. "You really gave us a scare, buddy," he said, trying to sound casual but failing to mask the emotion.
"You always make us worry like this, Avi," Emily added, her voice wobbling as she punched his arm lightly, a half-hearted attempt at humor. "Please be safer next time." She wiped her tears away, but there was a softness in her voice he couldn't ignore.
Avi let out a weak chuckle, wincing as pain flared through his chest. "Yeah, yeah, I'll try not to get myself killed next time." His attempt at humor felt hollow, but it was necessary. The room, the situation, the new reality he was waking up to demanded it.
He glanced around, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. "Okay, seriously, where the hell are we?" he asked, still piecing together what was happening.
Ken hesitated, then sighed. "We're in a… different room. Not the gymnasium. Looks different, don't you think?" He looked at him pointedly. "The system didn't give us upgrades, but it did show the ranking."
"Ranking?" Avi echoed, the confusion palpable. "Wait, what's the deal with that?"
Ken nodded. "Exactly. Everyone got their points, but yeah, no one can see each other's individual stats. All we know is the public ranking."
Avi nodded slowly, trying to absorb the information. But then his mind wandered again, and he couldn't help but ask, "So... what happened after that? What's the situation now?"
Ken's expression shifted slightly as he looked down. "After the system announced their victory, it summoned everyone back into the gymnasium, including those who hadn't joined the alliance. But there were no casualties. Some were close though—starvation, dehydration... they didn't look good." He let out a deep breath before continuing. "But then the gym… It wasn't just a gym anymore. There was a strong earthquake and some shifting inside the gym. It turned into a small castle, like something out of a fantasy novel. And now, they're surrounded by a thick forest." He paused and glanced at Emily. "The school grounds? Gone. The buildings? Nowhere to be seen."
Avi felt his stomach churn at the thought. This was way more than just some messed-up game. "A castle? What the hell happened to us?"
Ken gave him a serious look. "We don't know yet. No one's tried to explore the forest. We've been waiting for three days for you to wake up before we do anything else. We need to talk things through first."
Avi rubbed his temples, trying to clear his head. "Three days, huh?" he muttered, still in disbelief. He felt like it had been more than a week that had passed in his dream, but he couldn't complain about not wasting time being in a training montage coma. "That's a long time to be knocked out... Guess I wasn't exactly out for a quick nap."
Ken's face softened. "Yeah. But the good news is, no one died. We managed to heal everyone but not fully, since the healers mentioned that their healing uses one's own vitality. So we healed you and everyone just enough for them not to die and heal naturally. There are still people struggling with the basics, like food and water."
Avi sighed in relief. That was at least some good news. But the whole situation still felt… off. "Alright, then. Let's get moving. Call the others. We need to figure out what to do next."
Emily and Ken exchanged concerned glances, but Emily shook her head. "Avi, you're still weak. You can't just—"
"Please," Avi interrupted, his voice coming out a little more desperate than he wanted. "We need to move forward. We don't know when the system will start throwing us in hell again. Just help me get up, okay? We can't keep waiting around. Call the others for the meeting."
Ken hesitated but then gave a resigned nod. "Alright. But you're not going to do this alone, okay?"
Avi nodded. "Wouldn't dream of it, big guy."
Emily looked like she still wasn't fully convinced, but she helped him up anyway. "Just... be careful, alright?" Her voice was soft, like she was afraid he'd break into a million pieces if she said it too loudly.
Ken grinned, throwing a playful arm around Avi's shoulder as he got to his feet. "Yeah, yeah, don't worry. I'll keep an eye on him."
And as Avi stood there, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on him, he knew that this was only another beginning. There was a lot to figure out—a lot—but it started now. They had to be ready.
"Alright," he muttered, glancing at both of them. "Let's do this."