A frail-looking young man with pale skin and dark circles under his eyes was sitting on a rusty bench across from the police station. He was cradling a cup of coffee in his hands — not the cheap synthetic type slum rats like him had access to, but the real deal. This cup of plant-based coffee, usually available only to higher rank citizens, had cost most of his savings. But on this particular day, Sunny decided to pamper himself.

After all, his life was coming to an end.

Enjoying the warmth of the luxurious drink, he raised the cup and savored the aroma. Then, tentatively, he took a small sip… and immediately grimaced.

"Ah! So bitter!"

Giving the cup of coffee an intense look, Sunny sighed and forced himself to drink some more. Bitter or not, he was determined to get his money's worth — taste buds be damned.

"I should have bought a piece of real meat instead. Who knew actual coffee is so disgusting? Well. It's going to keep me awake, at least."

He stared into the distance, dozing off, and then slapped himself in the face to wake up.

"Tsk. What a rip-off."

Shaking his head and cursing, Sunny finished the coffee and stood up. Rich people living in this part of the city were rushing past the small park on their way to work, staring at him with strange expressions. Looking haggard in his cheap clothes and from the lack of sleep, unhealthily thin and pale, Sunny was indeed out of his place here. Also, everyone seemed so tall. Watching them with a bit of envy, he tossed the cup into a garbage bin.

"I guess that's what three full meals a day would do to you."

The cup missed the bin by a wide margin and fell on the ground. Sunny rolled his eyes in exasperation, walked over and picked it up before carefully putting it in the trash. Then, with a slight grin, he crossed the street and entered the police station.

Inside, a tired-looking officer gave him a quick glance and frowned with obvious distaste.

"Are you lost, boy?"

Sunny looked around with curiosity, noting reinforced armor plates on the walls and poorly hidden turret nests in the ceiling. The officer, too, looked scruffy and mean. At least police stations remained the same wherever you go.

"Hey! I'm talking to you!"

Sunny cleared his throat.

"Uh, no."

Then he scratched the back of his head and added:

"As demanded by the Third Special Directive, I am here to surrender myself as a carrier of the Nightmare Spell."

The officer's expression instantly changed from irritated to wary. He looked the young man over once again, this time with piercing intensity.

"Are you sure you are infected? When did you start showing symptoms?"

Sunny shrugged.

"A week ago?"

The officer became visibly paler.

"Shit."

Then, with a hurried motion, he pressed a button on his terminal and bellowed:

"Attention! Code Black in the lobby! I repeat! CODE BLACK!"

***

The Nightmare Spell first appeared in the world a few decades ago. Back then, the planet was just starting to recover from a series of devastating natural disasters and subsequent resource wars.

At first, the emergence of a new disease that caused millions of people to complain about constant fatigue and sleepiness did not attract a lot of attention. But when they started to fall into an unnatural slumber, with no sign of waking up even days later, governments finally panicked. Of course, by then it was already too late — not that an early response could have made any difference.

When the infected started dying in their sleep, their dead bodies turning into monsters, no one was ready. Nightmare Creatures quickly overwhelmed national militaries, plunging the world into complete chaos.

No one knew what the Spell was, what powers it possessed, and how to fight it.

In the end, it was the Awakened — those who survived the first trials of the Spell and came back alive — who put a stop to its rampage. Armed with miraculous abilities earned in their Nightmares, they restored peace and created a semblance of a new order.

Of course, it was only the first of the catastrophes brought upon by the Spell. But as far as Sunny was concerned, none of it had anything to do with him — not until a few days ago, that is, when he first started having trouble with staying awake.

For an average person, being chosen by the Spell was as much of a risk as an opportunity. Kids learned survival skills and fighting techniques in school, on the off chance of being infected. Well-to-do families hired private tutors to train their children in all sorts of martial arts. Those from the Awakened clans even had access to powerful legacies, wielding inherited Memories and Echoes in their first visit to the Dream Realm.

The richer your family was, the better your chances of surviving and becoming an Awakened were.

But for Sunny, who had no family to speak of and spent most of his time scrounging for food instead of going to school, being chosen by the Spell presented no opportunity at all. To him, it was basically a death sentence.

***

A few minutes later, Sunny was yawning while several policemen were busy putting him in restraints. Soon he was fastened into a bulky chair that looked like a weird mix between a hospital bed and a torture device. The room they were in was situated in the basement of the police station, with thick armored walls and a formidable-looking vault door. Other officers were standing near the walls, with automatic rifles in their hands and grim expressions on their faces.

Sunny did not particularly care about them. The only thing he could think about was how much he wanted to sleep.

Finally, the vault door opened, and a gray-haired policeman walked in. He had a seasoned face and stern eyes, looking like someone who had seen a lot of terrible things in his life. After checking the restraints, the policeman glanced quickly on his wristwatch and then turned to Sunny:

"What's your name, kid?"

Sunny blinked a few times, trying to concentrate, then shifted uncomfortably.

"Sunless."

The old policeman raised an eyebrow.

"Sunless? That's a strange name."

Sunny tried to shrug, but found himself unable to move.

"What's so strange about it? At least I have a name. Back in the outskirts, not everyone even gets one."

After another yawn, he added:

"It's because I was born during a solar eclipse. My mom had a poetic soul, you see."

That's why he got this weird-ass name and his little sister was called Rain… back when she still lived with them, at least. Whether it was the result of poetic imagination or simple laziness, he did not know.

The old policeman grunted.

"Do you want me to contact your family?"

Sunny simply shook his head.

"There's no one. Don't bother."

For a second, there was a dark look on the policeman's face. Then his expression turned serious.

"Alright, Sunless. How long can you stay awake?"

"Uh… not long."

The policeman sighed.

"Then we don't have time for the full procedure. Try to resist for as long as you can and listen to me very carefully. Okay?"

Not waiting for a response, he added:

"How much do you know about the Nightmare Spell?"

Sunny gave him a questioning look.

"As much as anyone, I guess? Who doesn't know about the Spell?"

"Not the fancy stuff you see in dramas and hear in the propaganda broadcasts. I mean how much do you really know?"

That was a hard question to answer.

"Don't I just go into the Dream Realm, kill a few monsters to complete the First Nightmare, receive magic powers and become an Awakened?"

The old policeman shook his head.

"Listen carefully. Once you fall asleep, you will be transported inside your First Nightmare. Nightmares are trials created by the Spell. Once inside, you will meet monsters, sure, but you will also meet people. Remember: they are not real. They're just illusions conjured up to test you."

"How do you know?"

The policeman just stared at him.

"I mean, no one understands what the Spell is and how it works, right? So how do you know that they're not real?"

"You might have to kill them, kid. So do yourself a favor and just think about them as illusions."

"Oh."

The old policeman waited for a second, then nodded and continued.

"A lot of things about the First Nightmare depend on luck. Generally, it shouldn't be overwhelmingly hard. The situation you're in, the tools you have at your disposal and the creatures you have to defeat should be within the range of your abilities, at least. After all, the Spell sets up trials, not executions. You're a bit disadvantaged due to… well… your circumstances. But kids from the outskirts are tough. Don't give up on yourself just yet."

"Uh-uh."

Sunny was getting more and more sleepy. It was becoming hard to follow the conversation.

"About those "magic powers" you mentioned… you will indeed receive them if you survive until the end of the Nightmare. What those powers will be, exactly, depends on your natural affinity as well what you do during the trial. But some of it will be at your disposal right from the start…"

The voice of the old policeman sounded more and more distant. Sunny's eyelids were so heavy that he was struggling to keep his eyes open.

"Remember: the first thing you must do once inside the Nightmare is to check your Attributes and your Aspect. If you get a combat-oriented Aspect, something like a Swordsman or an Archer, things will be easier. If it is reinforced by a physical Attribute, then that's even better. Combat Aspects are the most common, so the probability of receiving one is high."

The armored room was growing dimmer.

"If you're unlucky and your Aspect has nothing to do with combat, don't despair. Sorcery and utility Aspects are useful in their own ways, you'll just have to be smart about it. There are really no useless Aspects. Well, almost. So just do anything in your power to survive."

"If you survive, you will be halfway to becoming an Awakened. But if you die, you'll open a gate for a Nightmare Creature to appear in the real world. Which means that my colleagues and I will have to deal with it. So… please don't die, Sunless."

Already half-asleep, Sunny felt a bit touched by the policeman's words.

"Or, at least, try to not die right away. The nearest Awakened won't be able to get here for a few hours, so we would really appreciate it if you don't make us fight that thing ourselves…"

'What?'

With that last thought, Sunny finally slipped into a deep slumber.

Everything became black.

And then, in the darkness, a faintly familiar voice rang:

[Aspirant! Welcome to the Nightmare Spell. Prepare for your First Trial…]

Sunny dreamt of a mountain.

Jagged and lonesome, it dwarfed other peaks of the mountain chain, cutting the night sky with its sharp edges. A radiant moon bathed its slopes in the ghostly, pale light.

On one of the slopes, the remnants of an old road stubbornly clung to the rocks. Here and there, weathered paved stones could be seen through the snow. To the right side of the road, a sheer cliff face rose as an impregnable wall. To the left, a silent black sea of nothingness indicated an endless fall. Strong winds crashed into the mountain over and over again, screaming in powerless rage.

Suddenly, the moon fell over the horizon. The sun rose from the west, streaked across the sky and disappeared in the east. Snowflakes jumped from the ground and returned into the embrace of clouds. Sunny realized that he was seeing the flow of time in reverse.

In an instant, hundreds of years flew by. The snow retreated, baring the old road. Cold shivers ran down Sunny's back as he noticed human bones littering the ground. A moment later, the bones were gone, and in their place, a slave caravan appeared, moving backwards down the mountain in the clamor of chains.

Time slowed, stopped, and then resumed its usual pace.

[Aspirant! Welcome to the Nightmare Spell. Prepare for your First Trial…]

'What… what the hell is this?'

Step. Step. Another step.

A dull ache was radiating through Sunny's bleeding feet as he was shivering from cold. His threadbare tunic was nearly useless against the biting wind. His wrists were the main source of agony: badly hurt by the iron shackles, they sent a sharp pang of pain every time the freezing metal touched his broken skin.

'What kind of a situation is this?!'

Sunny looked up and down, noticing a long chain winding up the road, with dozens and dozens of hollow-eyed people — slaves just like him — shackled to it at small intervals. Ahead of him, a man with broad shoulders and a bloodied back was walking with a measured gait. Behind him, a shifty-looking guy with quick, desperate eyes was quietly cursing under his breath in a language that Sunny did not know, but somehow still understood. From time to time, armed horsemen in ancient-style armor would pass by, giving the slaves menacing looks.

However you judged it, things were really bad.

Sunny was more bewildered than panicked. True, these circumstances were not like what the First Nightmares were supposed to be. Usually, freshly chosen aspirants would find themselves in a scenario that presented them with a fair amount of agency: they would become members of privileged or warrior casts, with plenty of access to necessary weapons to at least try to tackle any conflict.

Starting out as a powerless slave, shackled and already half-dead, was as far from being ideal as one could imagine.

However, the Spell was as much about challenge as it was about balance. As the old policeman said, it created trials, not executions. So Sunny was pretty sure that, to counter this abysmal start, it would reward him with something good. A powerful Aspect, at least.

'Let's see… how do I do this?'

Remembering popular webtoons he read as a child, Sunny concentrated and thought about words like "status", "myself" and "information". Indeed, as soon as he focused, shimmering runes appeared in the air in front of him. Once again, although he did not know this ancient alphabet, the meaning behind it was somehow clear.

He quickly found the rune describing his Aspect… and, finally, lost his composure.

'What?! What the actual fuck?!'

***

Name: Sunless.

True Name: —

Rank: Aspirant.

Soul Core: Dormant.

Memories: —

Echoes: —

Attributes: [Fated], [Mark of Divinity], [Child of Shadows].

Aspect: [Temple Slave].

Aspect Description: [Slave is a useless wretch with no skills or abilities worth a mention. A temple slave is just the same, except much rarer.]

Speechless, Sunny stared at the runes, trying to convince himself that he was maybe just seeing things. Surely, he couldn't be that unlucky… right?

'No useless Aspects my ass!'

As soon as this thought appeared in his mind, he lost the rhythm of his steps and stumbled, pulling the chain down with his weight. Immediately, the shifty guy behind him screamed:

"Whore's bastard! Watch where you're going!"

Sunny hurriedly dismissed the runes, which were only visible to him, and tried to recover his balance. A moment later, he was once again walking steadily — however, not before inadvertently pulling on the chain one more time.

"You little shit! I'm going to kill you!"

The broad-shouldered man in front of Sunny chuckled without turning his head.

"Why bother? The weakling will be dead by sunrise anyway. The mountain will kill him."

A few seconds later, he added:

"It'll kill you and me, too. Just a bit later. I really don't know what the Imperials are thinking, forcing us into this cold."

The shifty guy gasped.

"Speak for yourself, fool! I'm planning to survive!"

Sunny silently shook his head and concentrated on not falling again.

'What a charming pair.'

Suddenly, a third voice joined the conversation from somewhere further back. This one sounded gentle and intelligent.

"This mountain pass is usually much warmer this time of year. We just had really bad luck. Also, I would advise you against harming this boy."

"Why is that?"

Sunny turned his head slightly, listening.

"Haven't you seen the markings on his skin? He is not like us, who fell into slavery due to debts, crimes or misfortune. He was born a slave. A temple slave, to be precise. Not long ago, the Imperials destroyed the last temple of the Shadow God. I suspect that this is how the boy ended up here."

The broad-shouldered man cast a look back.

"So what? Why should we be afraid of a half-forgotten, weakling god? He couldn't even save his own temples."

"The Empire is protected by the mighty War God. Of course they're not afraid to burn down a few temples. But we here are not protected by anything or anyone. Do you really want to risk angering a god?"

The broad-shouldered man grunted, not willing to answer.

Their conversation was stopped by a young soldier riding a beautiful, white horse. Clad in a simple leather cuirass, armed with a spear and a short sword, he looked dignified and noble. To Sunny's irritation, the asshole was really pretty, too. If this was a historical drama, the soldier would definitely be a male lead.

"What is going on here?"

There was no particular menace in his voice, even something resembling concern.

When everyone hesitated, the gentle-voiced slave answered:

"It's nothing, sir. We are just all tired and cold. Especially our young friend over there. This journey is truly too hard for someone that young."

The soldier looked at Sunny with pity.

'What are you looking at? You're not much older than me!' Sunny thought.

Of course, he didn't say anything out loud.

The soldier sighed and took a flask from his belt before extending it to Sunny.

"Bear with it a little more, child. We will stop for the night soon. For now, here, drink some water."

'Child? Child?!'

Due to his thin body and small stature, both caused by malnourishment, Sunny was often mistaken for someone younger. Usually, he didn't hesitate to use it to his advantage, but now, for some reason, being called a child really irked him.

Still, he was really thirsty.

He was just about to take the flask when a whip cracked in the air, and suddenly Sunny was in a world of pain. He stumbled, once again pulling on the chain and causing the shifty slave behind him to curse.

Another soldier, this one older and angrier, stopped his horse a few steps back. The whip that sliced the back of Sunny's tunic open and drew blood belonged to him. Without even glancing at the slaves, the older soldier pierced his younger colleague with a disdainful glare.

"What do you think you're doing?"

The young soldier's face darkened.

"I was just giving this boy some water."

"He'll receive water with the rest of them once we camp!"

"But…"

"Shut your mouth! These slaves are not your friends. Understood? They're not even people. Treat them like people and they'll begin imagining things."

The young soldier looked at Sunny, then lowered his head and put the flask back on his belt.

"Don't let me catch you making friends with slaves again, newbie. Or next time it will be your back tasting my whip!"

As if to illustrate his intention, the older soldier cracked his whip in the air and rode past them, radiating threat and anger. Sunny watched him go with well-concealed malice.

'I don't know how, but I will watch you die first.'

Then he turned his head and glanced in the direction of the younger soldier, who was falling behind with his head still lowered.

'And you, second.'

For a few minutes after that, Sunny was in a dark mood. But then he pulled himself out of it and inhaled deeply, trying to enjoy the fresh air. Indeed, air like that was hard to come by in the real world: micro dust and other pollutants made it rough and unpleasant, not to mention the general stench of the outskirts. In the better parts of the city, sophisticated filtration systems worked diligently — however, filtrated air tasted sterile and stagnant. Only the very rich had access to truly pleasant breathing.

And here he was, able to enjoy an unlimited amount of pristine, delicious air like a second-generation chaebol.

'Truly, being chosen by the Spell has its benefits.'

If only there was no dreadful cold, his feet did not ache, and his wrists and back were not in agony!

The slave caravan slowly dragged itself up the mountain, with more and more slaves stumbling and periodically falling to the ground. A couple of times, those who could not walk anymore were taken off the chain and unceremoniously tossed off the road, down into the abyss that loomed to the left of it. Sunny watched them fall with a bit of compassion.

'Poor fellows. Rest in peace, you pitiful souls.'

All in all, he was in good spirits.

It was a bit strange to feel good amidst this disaster of a Nightmare, but, thankfully, Sunny had time to prepare himself for this eventuality. When the symptoms of the Spell first appeared, he did not handle it well. Dying before you even turn seventeen was not something one could easily cope with.

But, in the end, it only took Sunny several days to come to terms with it. After visiting his parents' makeshift resting place — well, actually, since he was too poor to afford even the cheapest slot in the remembrance facility, it was just two lines carved into an old tree — and adding a third line for himself, Sunny suddenly became relaxed and carefree.

After all, he didn't have to worry about earning money, finding food, protecting himself and planning for the future anymore. Once the worst that could happen had already happened, what else was there to fear?

So, becoming a slave and slowly freezing to death was not that much of a shock.

Besides, he knew that cold would not kill him — simply because he had already seen what fate was awaiting the caravan further up the mountain. The picture of piled bones littering the ground was still fresh in his mind. Most likely, it was a pack of monsters that were going to do the caravan in… and by the look of it, the attack was going to take place in a matter of hours, not days.

So he still had a chance.

Using the opportunity, Sunny decided to take another look at his status and summoned the runes again. The last time he was too outraged by the Aspect and didn't study the Attributes well. While not as important as one's Aspect, the Attributes were often the deciding factor between life and death. They represented one's natural traits and affinities, sometimes even providing passive abilities and effects.

[Fated] Attribute Description: "The strings of fate wrap tightly around you. Unlikely events, both good and bad, are drawn by your presence. There are those who are blessed, and there are those who are cursed… but rarely both."

[Mark of Divinity] Attribute Description: "You bear a faint scent of divinity, as though someone briefly touched by it once, a long time ago."

[Child of Shadows] Attribute Description: "Shadows recognize you as one of their own."

'Hmmm… Interesting.'

Sunny quickly recognized the first attribute, [Fated], as the main culprit of his predicament. At first glance, it seemed to indicate that he was destined for a certain fate — to die miserably and vanish without a trace, for example. But after reading the description, he realized that being fated actually just meant that improbable things had a higher chance of occurring when he was around.

'I guess this is how I managed to receive one of the super rare useless Aspects — and a weird variant of it, at that!'

If [Fated] was his innate Attribute, then the other two came from the [Temple Slave] Aspect. [Mark of Divinity] was more a less straightforward — it was supposed to allow passage into certain sacred places inside the Dream Realm and enhance several types of sorcery. Since there were no sacred places in sight and Sunny's Aspect had nothing to do with sorcery, it was useless, too.

[Child of Shadows] was a stranger one. He had never heard of it and had no idea what it was supposed to do — at least not until the sun hid behind the mountain and the sky began to darken. To his surprise, Sunny found himself able to see perfectly in the darkness, as though it was still as bright as day. This ability alone was nothing to scoff at, and it was quite possible that shadows would reward him with some other, yet unknown, gifts.

'Finally something good. I wonder if…'

"Stop the caravan! Prepare to camp!"

Following the head soldier's order, the slaves stopped and fell to the ground, shivering and exhausted. The small clearing where the road widened was somewhat protected from the wind by a protruding mass of rock, but it was still too cold to rest with ease.

The soldiers got busy herding the slaves into a tight circle, forcing them to share warmth, and lighting up a large bonfire in the center of the camp — although not before tending to their horses. The heavy wagon carrying food, water and other cargo, to which the main chain was firmly affixed, was pushed forward to block the wind. While looking around, Sunny noticed the young soldier from before watching the mountain with a complicated look on his face.

'What a weirdo.'

Soon, the bonfire was blazing. The stronger slaves tried to find their way closer to the fire, while the weaker ones, like Sunny, were forced to sit at the outer end of the circle, with their backs freezing in the cold. Of course, any movement was encumbered by the fact that they were still shackled to the chain. That's why the familiar broad-shouldered slave ended up just where he started despite all of his efforts to get closer to the flame.

"Damn Imperials!" he hissed, clearly irritated.

The soldiers walked among the slaves, giving them water and food. Sunny, just like everybody else, received a few sips of icy water and a small piece of rock-hard, moldy bread. Despite its unappetizing look, he forced himself to eat the whole thing, just to be left as hungry as he was before.

By the looks of it, he wasn't the only one.

The shifty slave that had been walking behind him looked around in anguish.

"By all the gods, they used to feed me better even in the dungeons!"

He spat on the ground, desperate.

"And most of us innocent men in the dungeon were there waiting to visit the gallows, too!"

A few steps away from them, where the paved road ended and sharp rocks began, a scattering of bright-red berries were growing from the snow. Sunny had noticed them before, clustering here and there along the road, and even noted how pretty those resilient things looked contrasted against the white. The shifty slave's eyes glistened as he tried to crawl towards the berries on all fours.

"I would advise against eating those, friend."

It was the gentle-voiced slave again. Sunny turned around and finally saw him in the flesh for the first time. It was a tall man in his forties, lean and strangely handsome, with a dignified look of a scholar. How a man such as him ended up a slave was a mystery. Yet there he was.

"You and your advice again! What?! Why?!"

The scholar smiled apologetically.

"These berries are called Bloodbane. They grow in the places where human blood was spilled. That's why there's always a lot of them along the slave trade routes."

"So what?"

The older man sighed.

"Bloodbane is poisonous. A few berries might be enough to kill an adult man."

"Curses!"

The shifty slave flinched back and glared at the scholar.

Sunny did not pay them a lot of attention.

Because, while looking around, he finally recognized the site of the camp as the place where, in his vision at the start of the Nightmare, the bones of the slaves were buried under the snow. And he was willing to bet that whatever it was that killed them all was going to happen soon.

As if to answer his thoughts, a thundering noise rang from above.

And in the next second, something massive came crashing from the sky…