365 Broken Dream [1]
Pain.
Pain.
He was in so much pain.
The world was dark, and while he couldn't see or even feel his surroundings, he was in searing agony.
It felt as if someone had thrown his heart, if he had one, into a grinder judging by the organ-rending pain wrenching his chest.
His whole body was cold and felt heavy as if he was lying under a thousand corpses… corpses of friends he couldn't save.
Suddenly, he fluttered open his eyes.
He saw an unfamiliar ceiling. Only after looking around did he notice that he was in a hospital room.
He was dressed in a bleak blue patient robe and several medical machines were monitoring his vitals.
He saw people sitting around him, their faces lighting up with relieved and joyous smiles upon seeing him wake up.
They opened their mouths to greet him but he couldn't comprehend their words.
These people seemed familiar but… he had no recollection of ever meeting them.
The last thing he remembered was… war.
He was fighting a war against invaders… against the Dragon God.
His friends and everyone in his world thought that his would be the blade that would finally sever the Dragon God's head.
They thought he would be the hero who would free them from the Dragon God's tyranny.
But… in the end, he couldn't save anyone.
Not his lovers, not his friends, not his master, not even the innocent whom he has sworn to protect…
In the end, he failed.
He fell to his knees in the middle of the battlefield and wept for a long time. All around him, his comrades lay dead.
After a long time, he picked up a blade from the dead body of one of the soldiers under his command, and slit his throat.
But then, why was he still alive?! Was this… Did he go back in time–
"Arghh!"
Before he could strain his mind any further, a searing pain tore through his skull.
It felt as if his head was placed on an anvil, and a passionate blacksmith was pounding it mercilessly for over an hour.
A cry of agony escaped his mouth, causing the faces of his friends to contort with worry.
Then, a soothing voice, akin to that of an angel, reached him.
"Nero, are you alright?" It was Anastasia, her gentle hand resting on his shoulder, her concern evident.
A deep frown of absolute confusion wrinkled Nero's forehead as he looked around, puzzled and slightly disoriented.
"That dream…" he managed to utter in a trembling voice. "Was it a dream?"
Anastasia also frowned, mirroring Nero's confusion. "I don't understand what you're talking about, Nero. What was a dream?"
"I…" Nero's hand went to the side of his head, clutching a few strands of his hair. "I don't… I can't remember."
What did he see? Something about the Dragon God? He couldn't recall for the life of him. Everything just… vanished in a flash.
While lost in thought, he noticed that a swathe of white bandages were covering Anastasia's injuries under her patient robes.
Suddenly, his mind shifted to more urgent matters.
"Are you okay?" Nero asked, the pulsating ache in his heart surging once more.
Grimacing, he grunted and glanced down at his own body, only to discover it in a state similar, if not worse, than Anastasia's.
Trying to sit up straight, he let out a sharp cry, toppling back onto the bed as his head sank into the soft pillow.
"I'm fine," Anastasia offered a worried smile. "But you should be worrying about yourself. You were unconscious for seven days. You have no idea how close to death you were."
Just then, Chase approached Nero's bed from the opposite side. He shot a glare at Anastasia standing opposite to him and said, "You are one to talk."
His voice was hoarse and slightly uneven.
Judging by the large patch of bandage across most of his lower jaw, he was still not fully recovered.
Despite the slight stinging pain, Chase continued glaring at Anastasia and said, "You were dead for a few seconds straight! The doctors and healers had given up on you!"
Anastasia nonchalantly shrugged. "I'm a tough girl."
Chase's outburst was immediate. "Idiot is what you are!"
Anastasia blinked, taken aback a little. She had never seen Chase so aggressive, not at least toward her.
And sure enough, in the next moment, Chase lowered his head like a puppy, his tone turning apologetic. "S-Sorry."
Without raising his gaze, he added, "I just think both of you should've run."
"It would've been futile," Nero shook his head. "That cloaked man… He was just too strong. He would've killed us the moment we had turned our backs to him."
"I think my attacks could have hurt him if even one of them had landed," Anastasia chimed in. "But he was simply too fast."
"It wasn't just about speed… It was about battle experience," Nero swiftly retorted. "When I clashed blades with him, I had the exact same feeling I have while sparring with my master."
The hospital room seemed to grow heavier as Nero took a brief pause.
"...The feeling of utter helplessness," he finally added. "Not only that, I could also tell that he was holding back."
"Oh, come on!" Chase interjected. "I get it, he was strong, but there's no way he was holding back!"
"No," Anastasia chimed in, shaking her head. "Nero's right. I could see it... all his movements... all his weapon arts... It felt like he was restraining himself to way less than his usual fighting."
"What does that mean?" Chase questioned.
Nero let out a sigh. "We don't know. I'm even surprised we survived. No, actually, we did not. I'm pretty sure he spared us for God knows what reason."
"...I-I think I know," Chase jumped in.
He was the first to wake up compared to Anastasia, who woke up ereyesterday, and Nero, who just regained consciousness a few minutes ago.
Naturally, he was the first among them to catch up with the news.
"The word is, those people belonged to a covert organization known as Spider," Chase said.
Anastasia frowned. "Spider? Is it real? I thought it was just a rumor. What's that word... oh, a conspiracy!"
Nero shared in on her confusion. "Yeah, how are you so sure, Chase?"
Chase swept back his long brown bangs and replied, "It's all over the news. The Military Police captured one of those guys, and he spilled everything after a bit of torture."
"They managed to capture one?" Nero asked, sounding doubtful.
"Yeah," Chase nodded. "Well, more like he was abandoned by his comrades on the spot for blowing off their cover."
"I see," Nero nodded slowly in understanding. "So we were spared because killing us would've meant nothing."
Once again, the room was plunged into a heavy silence.
Right then, Anastasia decided to change the topic. "Well, whatever the case may be, I think we should be thankful to Quinn and Grace. We would've bled to death if not for them."
What followed after was total silence once again.
Nero slowly twirled his head toward Anastasia, giving her a questioning look as a deep frown appeared on his face.
"Uh, what?" He asked.
Anastasia blinked a couple of times and then clapped her hands together as if she had just remembered something she forgot to mention.
"Right!" She said, slightly turning to the side and pointing at the sofa at the end of the room.
There, blending perfectly in the shadows, a young man with deep black eyes and raven black hair sat cross-legged, as if he owned the room and everyone in it.
The shadows grew lighter as he uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, revealing his perfectly tanned face.
"You nerds done talking?" Quinn said, his eyes half-closed as if he had no interest in anything around him.
"H-How long has he been sitting there?!" Nero asked, startled.
"Since the start, dipshit," Quinn rolled his eyes and stood up. He placed his hands in the pockets of his jeans and walked toward the bed. "I've been here for seven fucking days."
