A young boy, thin—his skin a dull brown, long white‑gray hair, and deep dark circles under blue eyes—walked along a well‑kept street toward the police station.
He held a cup of coffee—not that synthetic, cheap stuff, but the real thing, brewed from special beans available only to high‑status citizens.
That cup cost most of his savings. But that day, Ariandel decided to treat himself.
Enjoying the warmth of the drink, he lifted the cup and inhaled the aroma. Hesitantly, he took a small sip… and slowly reveled.
"Ah... How wonderful!" he exclaimed.
There was a gleam of delight in his eyes.
Looking at the coffee cup, Ariandel sighed, giving himself a moment of pleasure.
The rich aroma enveloped him like a welcoming embrace, and the faint bitterness danced on his tongue, leaving him satisfied with his purchase.
'This is the black gold.'
But then, like a distant echo, a feeling of dissonance came over him.
He leaned against the wall, feeling slightly heavy, and dozed off for a moment.
A slap to his face brought him back to reality, life's pressure crashing into his mind once more.
"I guess it's just insomnia," he murmured, shaking his head.
Finishing his coffee, he stood up, noticing the glances of wealthy passersby in the park.
In his cheap clothes and undernourished appearance, Ariandel truly stood out.
Watching them dreamily, he tossed the cup into a trash bin.
'I really want a hot bath and a soft bed.'
The cup missed the bin and fell to the ground.
Ariandel pressed his lips in exasperation, walked over, picked it up, and carefully placed it in the garbage.
With a faint smile on his tired face, he crossed the street and entered the police station.
Inside, he found a pale, sickly boy with black hair and eyes, and a foul‑tempered officer who looked past him to Ariandel with disgust.
"What do you boys want?" asked the officer in a harsh voice.
The pale boy glanced at Ariandel, surprised, with doubt and caution.
Ariandel surveyed the room: reinforced armor plaques on the walls and poorly hidden turret nests on the ceiling. The officer looked unkempt and grumpy.
'Are all police stations like this?' Ariandel thought.
"Hey! I'm talking to you!" the officer insisted.
"Oh, sorry," Ariandel replied, snapping out of his thoughts.
"As required by the Third Special Directive, I'm here to surrender myself as a bearer of the Nightmare Spell," said the pale boy.
The officer's expression changed from irritated to cautious. He turned to Ariandel, a slight urgency in his eyes.
"And you?" he asked hesitantly.
"The same," Ariandel replied, trying to maintain his composure.
"Are you sure you're infected? How long have you had symptoms?" the officer inquired, looking at both of them.
The pale boy shrugged.
"A week."
Ariandel smiled, as if that made the situation a bit lighter.
"Seven days."
The officer looked visibly horrified.
"Sh…t."
Then, trembling, he pressed a button on his terminal.
"Attention! Black Code at reception! I repeat!! BLACK CODE!!!"
***
The Nightmare Spell first appeared in the world a few decades ago. At that time, the planet was beginning to recover from natural disasters and subsequent wars.
At first, a new illness causing constant fatigue and drowsiness drew little attention. But when people started slipping into deep sleep with no signs of waking, governments panicked.
It was too late. When the infected began to die in their sleep, their bodies transforming into monsters, no one was prepared.
The Nightmare Creatures overwhelmed armies, plunging the world into chaos. No one knew what the Spell was or how to fight it.
In the end, it was the Awakened—those who survived and returned alive—who restored peace, armed with miraculous abilities gained in their nightmares.
But to Sunless, none of that mattered until a few days ago, when he began having trouble staying awake.
For an ordinary person, being chosen by the Spell was both a risk and an opportunity. Children learned survival skills and combat techniques at school, hoping to be infected. Wealthy families hired tutors to train their children in martial arts. Those from Awakened clans had access to powerful Legacies, manipulating inherited Memories and Echoes in the Dream Realm.
The richer the family, the greater the chance to survive and become an Awakened.
But for Sunless, who had no family and spent most of his time foraging for food, being chosen by the Spell was a death sentence.
A few minutes later, Sunless and the other boy fought off sleepiness as officers shackled them. They were soon placed in bulky chairs—a strange mix of hospital bed and torture device.
The basement room had thick walls and an imposing vault door. Other officers stood near the walls with automatic rifles and grim expressions.
Sunless didn't particularly care about them; his mind only thought of sleep.
Finally, the vault door opened.
A gray‑haired officer entered, experienced face and stern eyes. After checking the shackles, he looked at Sunless and the other boy.
"What are your names, boys?" asked the officer in a firm voice.
Sunless blinked a few times, trying to focus.
"Sunless."
The old officer raised an eyebrow.
"Sunless? Strange name."
Sunless tried to shrug but couldn't move.
"What's strange about it? At least I have a name. In the outskirts, not everyone does," Sunless said.
After another yawn, he added:
"I was born during a solar eclipse. My mother was poetic, you know?"
The boy beside him smiled.
"My name is Ariandel."
The old officer nodded, noting the difference between them.
"Do you want me to contact your families?"
Sunless shook his head.
"There's no one. Don't worry," he replied.
Ariandel remained silent, his gaze distant.
For a moment, a grim expression passed over the officer's face, but he recovered.
"All right, Sunless, Ariandel. How long can you stay awake?" the officer asked.
"Uh… not long," Sunless answered in a drawn‐out voice.
"A bit," added Ariandel, recovering from stupor and trying to seem more optimistic.
The officer sighed, his expression tense.
"Then we don't have time for the full procedure. Try to stay alert and listen carefully. Okay?" he said.
Without waiting for an answer, he continued:
"How much do you know about the Nightmare Spell?"
Sunless looked uncertain.
"As much as anyone, I guess. Who doesn't know about the Spell?"
"I'm not talking about what you see in the dramas. I mean, how much do you really know?" asked the officer.
Sunless cast a brief glance at Ariandel, who remained silent, withdrawing from the conversation.
"I just enter the Dream Realm, kill monsters, gain powers, and become an Awakened, right?"
The old officer shook his head.
"Listen. When you fall asleep, you'll be transported to your First Nightmare. Nightmares are trials created by the Spell. Inside, you'll find monsters, but also people. Remember: they're not real. They're illusions crafted to test you," the officer explained.
"How do you know?" Sunless questioned.
The officer simply stared at him, intensity in his eyes.
"No one understands what the Spell is, right? So how do you know they aren't real?" the officer countered.
"You might have to kill them, kid. Think of them as illusions," the officer replied in a grave tone.
"Ah."
The old officer waited a second, then continued:
"Many things about the First Nightmare depend on luck. It shouldn't be extremely difficult. The situation you're in, the tools at your disposal, and the creatures you have to defeat should be within your capabilities. The Spell sets trials, not executions. You're at a disadvantage because of… well… your circumstances. But kids from the outskirts are tough. Don't give up on yourselves yet," said the officer.
— Uh‑uh.
Sunless grew increasingly drowsy. It was hard to follow the conversation.
"About these "magical powers"… you will really receive them if you survive. Which ones you get depends on your natural affinity and what you do during the trial. Some will be available from the start…" the officer stated.
The old officer's voice sounded more distant. Sunless's eyelids were so heavy that he fought to keep them open.
"Remember: the first thing when entering the Nightmare is to check your Attributes and your Aspect. If you receive a combat Aspect, like Swordsman or Archer, things will be easier. If it's boosted by a physical Attribute, even better. Combat Aspects are common, so the chance of getting one is high," the officer explained.
The sealed room was growing darker.
"If you're unlucky and your Aspect isn't combat‑oriented, don't despair. Utility and magic Aspects are useful in their own ways. There are no useless Aspects. Well, almost none. Do whatever you can to survive," the officer advised.
"If you survive, you'll be halfway to becoming an Awakened. But if you die, you'll open a portal for a Nightmare Creature into the real world, which means my colleagues and I will have to deal with it. So… please don't die, Sunless, Ariandel," he warned.
Half‑asleep, Sunless felt somewhat moved.
"Or at least try not to die immediately. The nearest Awakened won't be able to get here for a few hours. We'd appreciate it if you didn't make us fight that thing alone…" the officer added.
'What?'
With that last thought, Sunless finally plunged into a deep sleep. Everything went black.
And then, in the darkness, a slightly familiar voice sounded:
[Aspirant! Welcome to the Nightmare Spell. Prepare for your First Trial…]