Chapter 11: The Spell’s Call
Bari's POV
At first, I didn't notice it.
It was subtle — the sighs, the sluggishness, the dull weight hanging behind every blink. I woke with the uneasy sense that the world had tilted slightly to the left. Not enough to throw me off balance… just enough to make everything feel off.
My limbs dragged through the day like they were resisting movement. My usual morning workout felt heavier, my breathing more labored. I yawned nonstop, no matter how much water or caffeine I pushed into my system.
But that wasn't what tipped me off.
No — it was when I laid down for bed. That's when I knew.
A crawling sensation whispered across my spine, not quite fear… not quite instinct. Just a certainty. Something had arrived. Something final.
I bolted upright on my futon like a man drowning in cold water. My chest rose and fell with shallow, rapid breaths. I was covered in sweat. My room — tiny and dimly lit above the café — looked like a cage now.
It was here.
The Nightmare Spell.
I didn't know what I expected — some great calling, a divine whisper, a magical pull. What I got was dread. Real, quiet dread.
I moved quickly, almost mechanically. Hoodie. Jeans. A black backpack already packed with essentials. I was never going to be caught off guard.
At the door, I paused, glancing once toward the café's back room. Toward the counter. Toward the gift.
Wrapped in clean cloth and tied with thread, the package sat neatly on a stool. Inside: letters I'd written over the past year. A bracelet I crafted from scavenged metals. The credits I'd been quietly saving.
On top, a note written in careful handwriting.
"I will come back stronger."
A half-smile broke my face. Toma would understand.
Without another glance, I slipped into the night.
***
The walk to the precinct felt unreal.
NQSC always had that late-night quiet to it, but tonight the silence had weight. Like the city itself knew something was happening. The streetlights flickered. The air was dry.
I passed an empty tram station and caught a glimpse of myself in the tall mirror beside the platform.
And paused.
Black hair with a front undercut of white — tousled, streaked with darker roots. Crimson eyes, narrow and clear, reflecting back a sharp awareness I always possessed.
Quiet strength. A storm held still behind glass.
I adjusted my collar and moved on.
***
The reinforced doors of the police station loomed ahead, flanked by thin, twitching towers designed to house defensive turrets. They weren't hidden — just bolted to the walls like threats waiting to be fulfilled.
I stepped through the sliding doors, greeted not by warmth, but by blinding white lights and the sterile smell of reinforced concrete.
A man sat behind the counter. Balding. Civilian-grade uniform. A receptionist pretending not to be afraid.
I met his eyes.
"As demanded by the Third Special Directive," I said clearly, "I am here to surrender myself as a carrier of the Nightmare Spell."
His face drained of color.
After a heartbeat, he slammed his hand on the console.
"Attention! Code Black in the lobby. I repeat, Code Black!"
***
The Nightmare Spell first appeared a few decades ago.
Back then, the planet was just starting to recover from devastating natural disasters and resource wars.
At first, the emergence of a disease causing fatigue and sleepiness didn't attract much attention. But when people began falling into unnatural slumbers — with no sign of waking even days later — governments panicked.
By then, it was already too late.
Infected who died in their sleep turned into monsters. Nightmare Creatures overwhelmed militaries and plunged the world into chaos.
No one knew what the Spell was, or how to fight it.
In the end, the Awakened — those who survived their First Nightmares and returned with miraculous abilities — stopped its rampage, restoring a fragile peace and order.
But that was only the first catastrophe.
For most, being chosen by the Spell was as much a risk as an opportunity. Schools taught survival skills and fighting techniques just in case. Wealthier families hired tutors to prepare their children. Those from Awakened clans wielded powerful legacies, their memories and echoes guiding them in the Dream Realm.
The richer your family, the better your chance at survival.
For me, no legacy awaited. But my knowledge and past life experience might just tip the scales.
***
Minutes passed.
I sat in a thick steel chair bolted to the floor, wrists and ankles restrained by magnetic cuffs.
The chair looked like a hybrid of a hospital gurney and a torture device — because that's what it was.
The First Nightmare wasn't a private affair. You didn't drift into it in your sleep. You were locked up. Watched. Contained.
I yawned.
Two officers stood with rifles against the far wall. Their faces were stony. Afraid, maybe. Or just numb.
I didn't care.
All I could think about were the straps. Were they tight enough? Could I hurt someone if I woke up wrong, not myself but a monster?
The reinforced door hissed open.
A man entered — tall, lean, black-haired, with a scar beneath one eye. Plainclothes, but the kind that screamed experience.
He looked me over like I was a grenade with no pin.
"What's your name, son?" he asked.
"Bari."
He raised a brow. "Bari? That's a strange name."
I tried to shrug — couldn't.
"Most people don't have names," I said dryly. "Back where I'm from, having one was a luxury."
The man's face tightened. He walked closer, checked the restraints again.
"Want me to contact your family?"
"Don't have any."
Silence. His eyes searched mine for a moment, then settled.
"Alright, Bari. How long can you stay awake?"
"A day or two, if I try. But don't get your hopes up. I find sleeping… enjoyable."
That got a ghost of a smirk from him.
"A day is more than enough. Just hold on as long as you can."
He paused, voice turning serious.
"Tell me — how much do you know about the Nightmare Spell?"
"Enough."
"I'm not talking about the stuff they pipe through the speakers," he said, tone sharpening.
"How much do you really know?"
I didn't blink
"As much as anyone. Maybe more."
His lips thinned.
"Good. Then you know what's waiting. Once the Spell takes you, it'll throw you into a trial. A test. People say it's random. I don't believe that. You'll see monsters. You'll see people. Friends, enemies… all illusions. Don't get attached. They're not real."
"How do you know?" I asked.
He didn't hesitate.
"Because they die. And dead poeple don't come back. It usually takes place in the past, yet the world doesn't change. The future doesn't shift. If they were real, things would unravel."
I said nothing.
The man stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"Sometimes, you'll have to kill them. You understand?"
My eyes blazed with a knowing loook, and I firmly nodded.
He exhaled through his nose.
"A lot of what happens in the First Nightmare depends on luck. Most of the time, it's survivable. The terrain, the tools, the threats — they're usually manageable, so long as you think clearly. Use what you're given."
He looked me over again.
"If you're lucky, you'll get a combat-based Aspect. Swordsman. Archer. Something physical. Makes things easier. They're common."
"And if I don't?"
"Then you improvise. Sorcery, utility — those Aspects are rare for a reason. The Spell rewards creativity. You survive by being clever."
"The First Nightmare is the first trial prepared by the Nightmare Spell to test the chosen Aspirant. First Nightmares are unique because each of them is tailored individually. That's why usually only a single Creature can appear. This single creature is usually a Beast or Monster. Rarely, does a Demon mixed in, and never anything stronger than a devil appear in it, or so I hope for your sake."
He turned, walking toward the vault door.
"I've said my part. An Awakened or a Master will be here soon. Stay awake as long as you can."
The door closed with a hiss.
The room was silent again.
A few hours later when the guards gave me a nod, I leaned my head back against the chair, closed my eyes, and smiled faintly.
"Come on, then. Let's see what kind of hell you have waiting for me."