Waking up from the dream

When I woke up, I found myself on the tree branch where it had all started.

This place... It was so familiar.

I used to climb up this tree whenever boredom consumed me. The world below felt so mundane, so small. Up here, everything felt different. Up here, I could breathe.

I wanted to play, to laugh, to feel the thrill of reaching new heights. The higher I climbed, the more the weight of life seemed to fade away.

From this branch, I could see the city stretched out before me. The endless view of rooftops, streets, and distant buildings always brought a strange kind of peace which made me fall asleep.

I finally woke up from that bad

dream.That...was truly exhilarating.

I climbed down the tree and headed into my house.I heard a familiar crackling sound of an engine .

This time the stake was high.I was not in a dream. I rechecked myself by slapping my face with my left hand. I felt the pain. I didn't know if I was happy to be coming back to normal or I was wary of the stakes here.

To be honest,I was both.

I saw them— the smugglers —those bastards who haunted my dreams.

At that moment, all my caution evaporated

replaced by a burning anger so fierce it felt

like lightning coursing through my veins.

And with that anger came an unnatural

surge of confidence.

"I want all of them dead before my eyes,"

I murmured under my breath, my voice cold

and resolute.

As always, they took me in along with a

group of teenagers, all around my age. The

moment of reckoning finally arrived--the

action was about to begin.

I whispered to the others,

"Head into the jungle on the right side of the truck when they're distracted. I'll grab their attention."

The gunfire began for real this time, the

blazing light of the weapons casting a

terrifying glow, capable of obliterating any

part of a body in an instant. I was nervous-

every fiber of me screamed to run away

But the anger in my heart refused to let me

It demanded Ifight, demanded I kill them

all here and now. But I couldn't--I didn't

have the strength to fight like that. I was

just a normal human, stuck in a fragile

body. Calming myself down was no easy

task, but I knew one thing for certain: if I

wanted to survive, I had to kill them.

Just like in the dream, I walked straight

into the middle of the gunfire. Both sides

stopped shooting, stunned by my sudden

appearance. They noticed my gray eyes and

froze in surprise. Without hesitation, I

bolted toward the jungle on the left side of

the trucks. My movements were swift and

precise--I'd practiced this countless times

before, in my dream. I reached the same

tree, freed myself, and repeated the exact

sequence: killing two terrorists, taking

their gun, and eliminating the remaining

three while perched on the tree. Then I took

down three more and their subordinate

with the same weapon.

In the dream, I had endless chances to get it

right. But here, I had only one shot.

I knew how to kill their leader .He wasn't exceptional or invincible anymore.

"I am exceptional . I am invincible."

I jumped down from the tree as the

leader's gun began recharging. Three

seconds--that's all I had. But I was

experienced now.I could kill him before he

even had a chance to fire. Three seconds

was more than enough to end him.

But I didn't.

I wanted something more. I wanted to see

the fear in his eyes-the same fear I felt

each time I died at his hands in my dreams

I wanted him to feel the terror, the

helplessness, the despair that I had

endured countless times. I wanted him to

know what it meant to truly be powerless.

I shot him in the hands. He hadn't expected

me to be so skilled. For a moment, I saw

something in his eyes that intrigued me-

fear. I stared into those eyes and said,

"You're not that skilled. I told you I'd kill you

for real next time, and now, here we are."

With those words, I pulled the trigger and

shot him through the head. Part of me

wanted to hear his last words, but I couldn't

bring myself to care. He was a terrorist, a

damned one at that, and his words held no

value to me.

As he fell lifeless to the ground, I felt a

strange sense of relief. With him gone, the

real nightmare was finally over.

I made my way back to the truck and was

met with a gruesome sight- dead bodies

everywhere. Lifeless, half-vanished, and

broken into fragments. I couldn't handle the sight I started vomiting .

Then I let out a sigh of relief after confirming that the teenagers had managed to escape.

The journey back to the village was tiresome, but by evening, I finally

arrived. As I walked through the village, I

noticed the villagers watching me. They

stared silently, their eyes fixed on me. But

something was different this time. The look

in their eyes had changed. They weren't

looking at me like i was cursed anymore-

they were looking at me as if l were a

savior.

The smugglers were here to kidnap these children and sell them on the black market. Humans, in this era, could work longer hours without getting tired and had an average lifespan of 80 years, compared to the Golden Eyes, who lived only about 60 years. For the sake of the city's development—or rather, for personal gain—some of the Golden Eyes resorted to human trafficking.

The humans who are sold live miserable lives, forced to work until their deaths while enduring relentless mental and physical torture throughout their existence.

They were here this time to kidnap all the teenagers, too. But thanks to me, they were all saved—at least for today. I took a step forward, and the villagers began thanking me. I walked to my house, unsure of how to act or what to say when someone thanks me.

I yawned, feeling exhausted. I wanted nothing more than to sleep, but then a thought crossed my mind: What if the dream cycle starts again? I got lost in my thoughts, and before I knew it, my eyes grew heavy and shut.

I slept.