Lucid Dream

Finding himself alone in his apartment, Ashen wasn't even surprised by Seraphine's quick escape… just a hasty comment about needing more time to mentally prepare before she bolted out the door.

He sighed, shaking his head. Hopefully, she wouldn't take too long to recompose herself.

Pushing her antics to the back of his mind, he decided now was as good a time as any to test Lucid Dreamweaving.

Lying down, he let himself sink into the mattress, exhaling slowly as he mentally commanded the system to activate the skill.

The effect was immediate.

A wave of relaxation washed over him, thick and irresistible. His limbs grew heavy, his thoughts distant, and before he could even process it—

Darkness.

.

.

.

Then—awareness.

Ashen opened his eyes.

A boundless white expanse stretched before him, empty yet not silent.

Though no wind blew, something whispered at the edges of his hearing… faint, indecipherable murmurs carried by an unseen current.

Looking down, he found himself in his pajamas.

He squinted. Too much white.

The thought barely settled before something shifted.

A spear.

It stood before him, its blade buried in the formless ground. Still and waiting. He knew who it belonged to instantly.

Mine.

He reached out. The weight was right, the balance familiar. Without hesitation, he yanked it free and took his stance.

Thrust.

Slash.

Sweep.

Again.

And again.

His body moved on instinct, his mind drifting in that strange space between awareness and detachment. 

The ground rippled beneath his feet. The sky flickered, seeming hesitant, torn between night and day.

The world shifted.

The formless white darkened into firm, packed dirt under his feet. 

Training dummies and scattered weapons blinked into existence around him.

At some point, his surroundings fully morphed into the academy's training field. 

His clothes, once soft and loose, tightened into his worn training uniform. The fading tears in the fabric remained exactly as he remembered them.

The sky above continued its slow, uncertain alternation between light and dark, an endless, wavering cycle.

Strike. Recover. Breathe.

The rhythm of his movements dictated the pulse of the dream itself.

Until—

Jolt.

His eyes snapped open.

A sharp inhale. The ceiling of his apartment greeted him, reality crashing in like a cold wave.

His internal clock ticked in his mind, steady and precise.

5 AM.

"..."

Ashen remained dazed for a few minutes before letting out a sharp exhale, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Well… that wasn't what I was expecting," he muttered to himself.

In hindsight, the low lucidity made sense. The skill was only at Entry- level, after all. Expecting full-blown hyper-awareness had been wishful thinking.

If he wanted the kind of vivid, controlled dreams he first imagined, he'd likely need to upgrade it to at least Basic.

For now, it seemed the dream had played out according to his subconscious, reflecting his habits, his desires, and the events of the day.

That might explain why he ended up training non-stop…

It wasn't far from what he would have done if he'd been fully aware, but he doubted he'd be lucky enough to get the same kind of dream every night.

'I should just use this skill as much as possible to rank it up, ' he decided.

*

The day passed like any other.

Regular lessons, followed by the coach's class, and then a hearty meal with Seraphine at the cafeteria.

As for what happened before, after, and in between? Training. Training. And even more training.

Now, as the sky burned red from the setting sun, Ashen was still at the now-deserted training grounds.

"Huff…"

266.

"Huff…"

267.

Sweat trickled down his face, dripping onto the ground as he continued his relentless set of handstand push-ups.

The bracelet hanging from his neck beneath his soaked shirt displayed x3, a clear indicator of the increased difficulty from the pull of gravity.

"Ugh…"

299.

"Ngh…"

300.

Breathing hard, he pushed off the ground, flipping back onto his feet before stretching in preparation for the next set.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he lifted his gaze—only to find Seraphine standing a short distance away, her face flushed red.

Her ears and cheeks burned crimson as she stole quick glances at him, only to immediately lower her eyes, fixating on the ground like it held the secrets of the universe.

"…"

"Sera? You should've just called out instead of standing there," Ashen broke the silence, not understanding her odd behavior.

Seraphine lifted her head slightly, her eyes meeting his for a brief moment before darting away. "I-I didn't want to distract you… When you were working this hard."

Even as she spoke, her gaze betrayed her, sneaking down to his sweat-drenched shirt, the muscles underneath sharply defined.

"…I don't mind waiting, you know."

Ashen simply nodded. "Alright, thanks for waiting. So? What's up?"

Her fingers twitched at her sides, shifting as if unsure where to settle, her feet fidgeting every so often. Finally, she spoke, her voice quiet.

"What we talked about last night… I'm ready."

Despite the softness of her words, in the stillness of the training grounds, Ashen heard them loud and clear.

Raising an eyebrow, he smirked. "Well, that was faster than I expected. Anyway, if you're ready, so am I."

He turned toward the exit, gesturing for her to follow. "Let's go now… unless you get cold feet."

Seraphine quickly nodded. "Mm-mhm."

Keeping a step behind him, she followed without hesitation.

*

After a quick shower, Ashen stepped out of the bathroom, put on some light clothes, and dropped onto the sofa, glancing at Seraphine, who was still standing.

"Alright, lady, the stage is yours."

He half-expected her to fidget, blush, and stall for time, but instead, she surprised him.

Clap!

She smacked both cheeks with her palms, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes for a brief moment.

"Alright! Let's do it."

Before he could react, she grabbed his hand and started dragging him toward the bedroom.