Shaden opened his eyes.

What? He was bewildered. What was going on?

Why had he come to his dream world? He hadn’t even been sleeping!

It was still early in the morning. He looked down at his legs and arms. Nothing unusual. He got up and went to the kitchen, trying to remember what he had been doing before he had switched worlds. There was no one else in the kitchen so he used his mana-hands to reach for a cup and the water jar. He thought while sipping on the liquid. What had he been doing?

He remembered clearly. He had been biking to the school. The night had been dark. Then what? What had happened?

When had he fallen asleep? Perhaps the intense running that day did something to his brain. Shaden rolled his head to come up with a possible explanation. He didn’t remember seeing anything. The night had been very dark, especially around the neighborhood surrounding the school.

Worry filled him. Had he been kidnapped? Had someone sleep-darted him? He still remembered the day he had been knocked out vividly. The blood, the pain. It was something he’d never want to go through again. He clenched his fists as his dread grew.

What in the world was going on?

Shidey came up to him and meowed. She stretched herself on the wooden floor, and Shaden gave her a stroke on the back. He didn’t know. He was unsure. But he was in this world now. Shidey’s soft fur helped soothe his mind. He stopped tensing and finished the contents of the cup.

“Shidey, do you know anything?”

Shidey looked at Demund with her large yellow eyes and meowed. Then she started grooming herself.

Of course the cat wouldn’t know, thought Demund. What was he doing? He went back into his room and fetched a book on magic circles. Not knowing didn’t give him an excuse to be lazy.

All children had to decide on which career path to take by age six. That was how the country produced efficient and skillful members of society. You could change your profession if you wanted to, but the majority stuck with what their parents did. They had learned that from childhood, so they were familiar and accustomed to it.

Shaden however, didn’t want to become a swordsman. He didn’t want to make his body suffer. Just doing it in one world was enough. So, he had desperately begged his parents to allow him to study magic. His father’s expression had been quite sad, but he allowed Shaden to do what he wanted, given that he memorized all the spells in the book.

Not that it was difficult. He already knew all the spells by heart. That’s why he was spending his time on learning magic circles.

He flipped opened the book. Reading always helped ease his mind from his worries.

Creating magic circles was like programming in real life. Like programming, there were multiple variants of magic circle symbols and codes that you could use to induce your magic. So far, all Shaden could do was copy and paste what was written on the book. He still failed every time; even a slightly ununiform line could mess up the whole circle. Magicians usually used certain tools to draw the circles, like compasses. Shaden had none of them, but he still tried his best to mimic the symbols.

Activating a magic circle was simple. By putting your mana through the lines, the circle would activate and conjure the imprinted spell. That didn’t mean Shaden could put his mana into the circles inside the book and bring about magic. The circle had to be made out of special ink that could conduct mana efficiently. Blood could be used during emergencies as it was a great conductor of mana.

You could also prevent other people from using your magic circle by adding security locks inside of it. There were multiple ways to do this, such as making it so that the circle wouldn’t activate unless mana was inputted in a certain way or completely creating another magic circle inside the existing circle that would detect and repel the mana of anyone who wasn’t certified.

The really cool thing was that you could use magic (usually light magic) to draw magic circles in the air, and the effect would still take place. The majority of high-tier magicians used this method to conjure difficult offensive spells. It was much harder to memorize, but faster and safer than chanting.

Creating the perfect magic circle with your mind required hundreds and thousands of hours of practice. Shaden was trying his best to memorize the circles in his mind. He was good at memorizing, after all.

His father came out of the room later while yawning. Melany didn’t cry as much now, but now she was crawling all over the place. She disliked sleeping and loved playing and exploring. That was why Garthan had to make her expend her energy at night so she would sleep. Rother and Shaden helped sometimes. Melany was making them all tired.

The day continued on as usual. Shaden’s thoughts of reality were lodged away to the back of his mind. Worrying now wouldn’t do anything. He couldn’t be dead, right? He was still dreaming, after all. He’d find out soon. But now, he had a week to enjoy.

〄 〄 〄

After saying goodnight to his family, Shaden went to his room and closed the door behind him. Usually, he would have practiced magic, but this was the seventh day. He had to sleep now.

He pulled the blankets over himself and closed his eyes. He would finally find out what had happened.

He felt his consciousness slipping away, and the darkness enveloped him. Any moment now, he would wake up and open his eyes, feeling refreshed. His senses of Shaden became numb, and his nerves turned to nothingness. The darkness continued to expand and Demund lay there patiently, waiting for his body to regain its senses.

Any moment now, he thought.

The darkness remained and Demund felt nothing. All around him was black and unfeeling. He was nothing, and he felt nothing, saw nothing, heard nothing. He stayed as nothing for a few seconds.

Any moment now.

The seconds became minutes. Demund’s worry grew. If he could sweat, beads of liquid would be flowing down his back. He knew this sensation. This dreadful sensation of nothingness. The countless seconds that had felt like months. He had been like this when he had been knocked out.

Had he hurt himself again? Demund thought of a new possibility. Perhaps he had crashed into something. The night had been dark. He didn’t remember wearing a helmet. Sudden regret filled his body. His parents had always told to travel safely, yet he had smiled and ignored their warnings. But he wasn’t dead, right? He couldn’t be dead. He was thinking.

How bad had his injury been? Demund tried to regain himself like he had done the last time he had been like this. He focused. He tried to reach out to his body. His mind wandered around the abyss as he used his non-existent senses to fumble for his body.

Nothing. He felt nothing. He couldn’t give up. He reached out and sought his self. His consciousness. He had to get it back. The panic slowly increased as the time ticked by. He concentrated and spread out. He did everything he could with his mind. He tried chanting, speaking to himself. Frustrated by the lack of results, he tried to scream. But he had no throat. He was nothing in the middle of nothing with nothing.

What is happening. What the hell is happening to me. Demund’s worry grew. Had he really died? Time was flowing by. Nothing was happening. Nothing at all.

Demund ceased his thoughts. He would wait. He would be patient. He could still think. He had to be calm.

So Demund waited. He waited for anything.

In the darkness.

In the nothingness.

He waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Waited.

Waited.

He couldn’t do anything.

He waited.

Waited.

If he had a fist, he would have smashed something.

Waited.

Waited.

Waited.

Waited.

Waited.

Nothing, nothing at all. He couldn’t feel anything.

Waited.

Waited.

Waited.

Waited.

How many hours had passed? Since he couldn’t feel, he couldn’t tell.

Waited.

Waited.

Waited.

Waited.

His frustration turned into anger.

Waited.

Waited.

Waited.

His anger subsided and he thought once more. Was this the afterlife?

Waited.

Waited.

Dread grew inside of him. Would he never see his family again?

Waited.

Waited.

He still hadn’t confessed to Enariss.

Waited.

Waited.

Waited.

Jothan was probably doing well.

He waited.

Waited.

Waited.

The despair subsided. He didn’t know what to feel anymore.

Waited.

Waited.

Waited.

He was becoming nothing.

Wait.

Wait!

He felt something in the distance. He reached out to it. It rushed to him, coming closer and closer. Demund concentrated as his mind roared back to life. He was being sucked into something.

He felt it. He felt his arms and legs. He felt everything.

Shaden opened his eyes.

It was morning. He looked around and inspected his body.

“What the heck?! Why am I still here?!”

〄 〄 〄

Two figures spoke in hushed voices under the white light of the room. The faint sound of a counting machine pulsed behind the thick glass.

Then they became silent. They watched. They couldn’t sit. They were too afraid. Too heartbroken.

The clock on the wall ticked by. The sound was deafening. The seconds felt so slow. Yet so fast. Too fast. It was not progressing at all.

Finally, one of them sat down. Her legs were tired. But her eyes were not. Her eyes were fixed beyond the glass. They were empty. The tears had all flown out. She was numb.

The man breathed out a long sigh. The woman spoke again. The man silently watched. Then they were quiet again. There was nothing to talk about.

It had been many hours since the red light had changed to green. Yet nothing was happening. The doctor was still doing his inspections.

Suddenly, after what seemed like hours, the doctors moved the body. The woman ran out of the room and grabbed onto one.

They had to do some tests. It was very critical. The woman let go.

The body rolled away, away from her reach.

〄 〄 〄

Shaden’s arms were crossed as he thought again. He was very, no, immensely glad that he could move his limbs. The nothingness had been suffocating on his mind. Well, he hadn’t been able to feel anything, but the lack of any stimuli had put a strain on his thinking. Now that he was finally back, he cherished the sensations of his body.

But why this body? Why had he returned to being Shaden? What had happened to Demund?

He tried thinking. It had been nothingness when he had been knocked out. Perhaps his head was injured so badly that he spent an entire day in a coma. That sounded reasonable.

But he knew he wasn’t dead now. His body was out there, somewhere. Heck, this dream was in his mind.

Wait, that didn’t make sense. If this was a dream that was going on inside his mind, then why didn’t he wake up? If his head had been damaged, then this dream wouldn’t be continuing either.

Shaden scratched his chin. He didn’t know. He looked at his hands. What exactly was his power? Realistic dreams? He felt like it was something more than that. But if he had reincarnated, he would have had to learn this world’s language. And yet, he understood everything.

Nothing clicked.

He removed his mind from the topic. He couldn’t waste time. Now that he was back, he’d do his best again.

〄 〄 〄

Finally, a week passed again. He lay on his bed. He was scared, but he had to go. He closed his eyes and the darkness embraced him again.

〄 〄 〄

Shaden opened his eyes.

F*ck, he thought.

The nothingness. He had made it through it again, but he hated it. It felt like forever. And why wasn’t he returning to his body?

〄 〄 〄

Shaden lay on his bed again. He had made some measures, however. If this was within his mind, and he could use healing magic, then couldn’t he heal himself from his dream? It was logically absurd, but he had nothing else to do. So every morning, afternoon, and night before he slept, he had cast some healing magic on himself. Not the ‘mend-together-bone-and-flesh’ type, but the ‘make-his-recovery-faster’ type. He had learned the difference from his books.

He closed his eyes. The familiar feeling of darkness washed over him.

〄 〄 〄

Demund stared at the white ceiling of the room. His whole body felt stiff. Especially his right leg. It felt numb. The sunlight was gently flowing into the room. It felt great on his skin, and he sighed.

His whole body was wrapped in bandages, especially his head. Not that it hurt or anything. Modern medicine was amazing. His arms were also wrapped with bandages, but they didn’t hurt either. Anexide worked quickly and effectively.

He relaxed on the soft bed. He couldn’t find his phone anywhere, so he had no way of knowing what had happened exactly.

As he had thought, he had gotten into an accident. It had probably been two days since he crashed. Well, he had to let the doctor know, right? He looked for the red button and found it to his left. He pressed it.

No one was in the room. It made sense. He felt bad now. He had made his parents worry for him twice in the span of a few months. He chuckled lightly. He was glad to be back.

He felt thirsty. He looked around the white room and spotted a jug of water on the table across from his bed. It would be okay to walk, right? He wasn’t in pain anywhere. Even broken bone healed within a week with anexide. He’d try walking to see how badly hurt he was.

Just to make sure, he grabbed onto the iv stand to position himself. Turning to the side of the bed, he pulled off the blankets and set his right foot on the floor—

He fell with a crash onto the floor. Demund let out a pained cry. Why did he fall? He didn’t feel bad anywhere. His arms were sore now. With a grunt, he got up and looked at his legs.

There was only one leg.