[Awake World: Mid-Fight Rooftop]
Where reality thrummed with a jagged, electric pulse, the Rooftop Watcher crouched atop a shattered building, his silhouette a jagged scar against the fractured sky. Flanking him were the two masked figures from the sewer lair, where dripping tunnels had pulsed with ancient sigils and their whispered plans had echoed like a predator's breath. The rune-masked figure's angular markings glinted faintly, catching the sickly glow of the Awake world's torn heavens, while the void-masked figure's face was an abyss, unsettling even in the dim light. Below, the city sprawled like a festering wound, its streets trembling with the distant clash of Taro and Mexus. Faint ripples pulsed through the air, Taro's spatial hax twisting reality in fleeting, unnatural bursts—tears in the fabric of the world that shimmered and vanished.
(note: the damage only happened in the subspace sight affect the awake world)
The Watcher's eyes—sharp, predatory, and inhuman—tracked the tremors with cold precision, unconcerned with the fight's victor, only its energy. His skeletal fingers curled, sensing the raw power bleeding from Taro's soul. In the sewers, he had erased lives with a flick of his will, the masked figures murmuring their assent in shadowy tones. Now, the rune-masked figure shifted, a low hum escaping their mask, like a spark of anticipation. "It's stronger than expected," they muttered, voice barely audible over the electric haze. The void-masked figure nodded, their gloved hand tightening around an unseen object, a flicker of tension rippling through their stance.
"The catalyst is ready," the Watcher intoned, his voice a low scrape against the Awake world's static, cutting through the night. His gaze lifted to the sky, where something vast stirred beyond the fractured veil—a shadow too immense to comprehend. "The Gate stirs."
The rune-masked figure tilted their head, as if sensing the same disturbance, while the void-masked one exhaled sharply, a sound like static crackling in the air. They spoke no more, but their reactions hummed with purpose. Below, Taro and Mexus's battle raged, a spark feeding the Watcher's unseen design. In the Awake world, the plan tightened its grip, a noose drawing closer with every pulse of power.
[Dreamscape: Warehouse Shed](After Fight)
Taro gasped, his eyes snapping open as consciousness flooded back. The familiar confines of the warehouse shed surrounded him, its walls scarred from past battles. Beside him, Mexus sat with crossed arms, perched on a rickety chair, his presence a steady anchor.
"You've woken up, I see," Mexus said, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
Taro chuckled weakly, the sound rough from exhaustion. "Heh… hey, Mexus… the fight… did I—did we—"
"You did extremely well," Mexus interrupted, his tone firm yet warm. "Though I'm still discussing it with the council, in my eyes—and others'—you're already a Dremapol to us."
Taro's lips curved into a deep, genuine smile, words catching in his throat for a moment. "…Thanks."
Mexus stood, extending a hand. "Well, I assume you've healed enough by now. Time to get up—let's go."
Taro grasped Mexus's hand, using it as leverage to rise, his muscles protesting. "Go where?"
"To the Dream World," Mexus replied, his voice carrying a hint of purpose. "You've got a lot to learn before you can truly become a Dremapol."
"I see. There's always something more, huh?" Taro said, a wry edge to his tone.
Mexus opened the shed door, stepping out into the dreamscape's shimmering expanse, Taro following close behind. With a flick of the NERTIS keys, Mexus dissolved the subspace, pulling them back into the broader Dream World. As they emerged, Taro's gaze lingered on the warehouse, a pang of nostalgia striking him. *Will we ever come back here? Will there ever be a time I need to train here again?*
"Taro, you still there?" Mexus called, snapping him from his reverie.
"Um, yeah," Taro replied, shaking off the thought.
Mexus adjusted his hat, a thoughtful hum escaping him. "Hmmm, alright. Follow me then. I'll tell you some things as we walk."
"Oh, sure, alright," Taro said, falling into step.
As they traversed the crystalline plains, Mexus began his lecture. "Taro, in the Dream World, we're assigned to squads. The head of each squad is a Drenor."
"So that means I'll have to pick a squad to join?" Taro asked, curiosity piqued.
"Well, Dremapols usually let the council decide, but yeah, you could switch or choose if you really want to," Mexus explained.
"Great, then I'll join your squad," Taro declared, a grin spreading.
Mexus tilted his hat, pausing for a moment. "It'd be better if you know all the squads before deciding. Don't be too rash."
"Oh? Well then, maybe there'll be some other Drenor even stronger than you, and I'll just join them instead," Taro teased, a mischievous glint in his eye.
"Hah, sure, do that," Mexus chuckled, shaking his head.
He continued, "Anyway, there are three classes above a Drenor: Special Class Assistant, Assistant, and Secondary Assistant."
"Why the term 'Assistant' though?" Taro asked, brow furrowing.
"Because that's about all they really do, to be honest. Not all of us are the most creative bunch, so… meh," Mexus said with a shrug.
Taro sighed, noticing they were nearing a building as Mexus stepped forward. "Alright, firstly, meet my squad." He opened the door.
Inside, at least seventy-five Dremapols—clad in similar flowing garb—milled about, their chatter filling the air. The moment they spotted Mexus, they froze, then rushed toward him with childlike excitement.
"Drenor Mexus!" "Captain!" "Where have you been, sir?" A barrage of questions erupted.
"Guys, please calm down," Mexus said, raising his hands. "I'll answer all your questions."
Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the chaos.Kazuishi emerged from the back, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose with a sigh. Her voice, though quiet, cut through the noise like a blade."All of you stop"
Kazuishi emerged, her presence commanding silence. "Give Mexus some breathing space—he just came back."
"It's Assistant Kazuishi," one Dremapol whispered, and the crowd settled, some murmuring disappointment, others beaming at their captain's return.
Kazuishi adjusted her glasses, her tone firm. "It's good you're happy to see Captain Mexus, but he's been gone for two months. He must be tired. You can meet him later."
The Dremapols dispersed slowly, their faces a mix of reluctance and joy. Kazuishi turned to Mexus. "Captain Mexus, since you're here, I assume you're done training that vermin?"
"Standing right here, by the way," Taro interjected, his expression blank.
Kazuishi's eyes flicked to him, then back to Mexus. "Why is he here?"
Taro sighed audibly.
"He's looking for squads to join," Mexus explained. "I said it'd be good for him to look around here first. Would you mind giving him a tour?"
"Huh? Why me?" Kazuishi asked, a hint of frustration in her voice.
"Well, Uriel and Yaburu aren't here, and you're my assistant. I'm kinda busy, so…" Mexus trailed off.
Kazuishi's frustration lingered but faded. "Fine, if it's for you, Captain."
"Great," Mexus said, turning to leave. Taro called after him, "Wait, where are you going?"
"Taro, I spent a month training you, and before that, a mission took another month. I'm a Drenor—so I'm a really busy guy right now. But don't worry, Kazuishi will show you around. It's a good time for you two to know each other and get along. See ya!" Mexus walked off briskly.
"Umm…" Taro turned to Kazuishi, now his reluctant guide.
"Follow me, scum," she snapped, her tone dripping with disdain.
"Oh God, why did it have to be her of all people?" Taro thought, suppressing a groan as he trailed behind her.