Demund was conscious. Yet he didn’t see anything. He didn’t feel anything. All of his senses were deprived of him. It was as if he was in a deep sleep with no dreams.

What is going on?

He tried to remember the events before. He was going somewhere. Home? Yes, home. But why? What had he been doing? He was with friends. Why? It was a special day. Christmas. They had hung out together the whole day. And then? When did they separate?

He remembered them riding in a car. He and Enariss had gotten off at the school. Yes, now he remembered. He had waved goodbye after giving his presents away. Then? They had gone into the school to fetch their bikes. What next? They came out.

Then nothing. He remembered nothing after that. But he was conscious. He had to recover.

Or had it all been a dream? Were the events of that day all from a dream? That would explain the sudden transition into nothingness.

No, that wasn’t possible. He remembered Enariss’s smile. Her slight blush as she rubbed the scarf he had given her on her cheeks. Her timid behavior. His nervousness. How she had slurped her noodles as she held her red hair back. Her ruby eyes. Laughing together. His heart beating.

Was he alive? Was he dead? His heart. He couldn’t feel it.

It wasn’t darkness. It was nothingness.

Demund felt fear. Had he died?

No. He was still thinking. Dead people could not think.

Or could they?

Demund hovered in silence amidst the nothingness. There had to be something he could do to escape. If this was a dream…

He concentrated and imagined fire.

Nothing. He felt and saw nothing. Mana didn’t exist here. Who was he kidding? Mana only existed because it was in his dream. It was a result of his power. An imaginary world. Nothing real.

But the emptiness was lonely. He wanted something. He wanted anything. Anything that he could feel with his five senses. He waited. And waited.

……Was he really dead?

He didn’t want to believe it.

No, he wasn’t dead. He was talking to himself. There was no way a dead organism could talk to itself. If it was his soul that was talking, then there would have to be something after his death, like heaven or reincarnation.

Perhaps he was alive, but his mind was disconnected from his body.

Disconnected. That sounded plausible. But why? Why the disconnection?

His vision had gone black. Now he remembered. He remembered something dull at the back of his head. Had he been knocked out? But by who? Enariss? She had no reason to do so.

He thought. He ventured his thoughts for some sort of clue. Anyone that he may have angered. None. People in the past who wanted him dead? None. How about Enariss?

Enariss. They were after Enariss. Realization filled Demund’s mind. Shit, someone was after Enariss.

Wait. She could defend herself. Whoever attacked her didn’t know of her power or had the methods to disable her. The latter sounded dangerous. She was rich, so she was bound to have a few enemies. But she was 16. What kind of 16-year-old had enemies?

Something tugged at the back of his mind. Something he’d heard a few weeks ago. His incredible memory was kicking in. Something he had seen on television. His dad had been watching. Something that had to do with psychology…

Criminals. Rapists! That was it! Demund knew more than anyone how pretty Enariss was. He knew how perfect she looked. A man who looked at her and said, “she is not that cute” would not be a man.

The black van at the front of the school. Were they watching all the time? For how long? It was Christmas and it was snowing. That was probably it. They had expected them to return late on Christmas. He didn’t know how they knew, but they did.

And they had ambushed them in the dark.

It was all just speculation, but it was the most plausible answer Demund could come up with. He had to go back if that was the case. Now. Enariss could be in danger.

But how.

He was knocked out. Him being conscious probably had something to do with his power. He had, after all, never experienced nothingness in his dreams ever since the other world began. So just being knocked out prevented him from going to the other world, but it still allowed him to be conscious.

He had to get back. He had to fall asleep now.

Demund focused on nothing. And he waited. Waited to go back.

Seconds passed.

Minutes passed.

Time kept on passing. Demund didn’t know for how long.

Then it began.

His first sensation.

It came from the back of his head, like something was touching it. Soon, it turned into a finger-touch. Then two finger-touches. Then three. Then four.

At some point, the sensation slowly transformed into pain. Demund dully felt something moving. Something beating and flowing.

His head. It was throbbing now. He had been hit on the back of his head.

And it hurt like hell.

This wasn’t enough. He had to get to Enariss.

He tried moving his body. He couldn’t feel anything, but he tried. The pain at the back of his head became worse. It felt wet now.

Shit. Is it blood?

Demund cursed. He usually never did, but right now was not usual.

Move. F*ck. Move! MOVE!

Gravity. He dully felt his body facing somewhere. He wasn’t floating anymore. He was lying down somewhere. Where? On the ground. How? Face forwards.

He tried to move his arms. He barely felt them, but his arms and legs were there. They felt numb, like the blood hadn’t flown through them for a long time. But slowly, the sensations came back. He felt himself regaining his body.

The pain became worse. His head was pounding now. It hurt, like there was a giant bruise on his skull. Shit, it hurt like hell.

He felt his body. He felt the ground. He moved his fingers and felt them scratch against the ground. He felt it. He was coming back. He was breathing and his heart was beating. His head felt wet, but he was alive. He had to get to Enariss.

Demund opened his eyes.

〄 〄 〄

He opened his eyes. His vision was blurry, and he couldn’t see very well. He forced his arms to support him as he got up. Nausea filled his body. But Enariss. He had to find Enariss.

He commanded his legs to support him. His muscles screamed but kept strong as Demund lifted his body up. He suddenly felt light-headed and almost fell back down. Sheer willpower kept him up like a zombie.

Demund resisted the desire to lay down and blinked his eyes. The world was spinning. He could make out the scenery at all. He heard something nearby. Something like crunching. Was someone screaming? He wasn’t sure. His ears were pounding, also wet from something.

Demund stood there for what he felt like was years. He breathed in and out, trying to stabilize his senses. Then he heard the screams again. And something like metal hitting against rock.

He looked at his hand. It was red. Blood. He gulped. He dared not to touch his head.

Demund clawed for his phone and dialed 911.

“……Hello, this is the—”

“Please, come help, now…” breathed Demund. “Blood…so much, ahh, uhp!”

Demund resisted the desire to vomit.

“Sir! Hello! We will send help immediately! Please do not disconnect!”

“Please…hurry,” said Demund. “Someone…dangerous…here, urpp!”

Demund vomited on the ground, dropping his phone in the process. His head hurt like hell.

Demund heard another scream and bang in the distance. It came from around the corner ahead. Enariss. He had to go.

“Hello! Are you okay…”

Demund ignored the phone and dragged himself forwards. The vomit had helped clear his mind. He could see a lot clearer now.

F*ck, what’s happening? Please be safe, please…

Demund endured the pain and continued forwards the snow was still falling on him, and he realized how cold he was. He didn’t care. He had to go.

He finally reached the corner and leaned against the wall. The lights were dim, his eyes weren’t fully recovered. He was afraid of what he would see on the other side. If Enariss had been hurt, then he…

He took a deep breath and turned.

Blood. Blood was everywhere. Even with his horrible vision, he could see the blood soaking the ground. So much blood. He had never seen so much blood.

And at the center of it stood a figure in a white parka, now stained crimson like her hair. Her ruby eyes glowed dully like embers as it glared at the scenery in front of her. Snow covered her head like a crown—like a halo. Her fists were dyed scarlet, and the area around her was complete destruction and blood.

Like an angel of death.

“Enariss…?” whispered Demund

She turned her head towards him. And stared at him straight in the eye. And all Demund could think of was—

“Thank God…” he muttered as he felt his legs buckle. The last thing he saw was a figure of red dashing at him as his vision turned into darkness.