The rift in Phantom Dream Town had finally closed. The blood-red sky gradually faded, and the night slowly returned to its quietude. The town, torn apart by nightmares, seemed eerily serene under the light. Wisps of smoke rose from the rubble, and the air carried a mix of gunpowder and dust. The townspeople awoke from their sleepwalking, eyes dazed, still haunted by lingering fear of the unknown.
Ethan collapsed beside the ruins, hands supporting his weight as he panted, forehead and neck streaked with dust and blood. Watching the streets gradually returning to normal, he forced a bitter smile. "Wonderful… only a few days into the job, and I nearly got the whole city killed with me. Should I get a 'Best Newcomer Crash Course' award?"
Silas cast him a cold glance, brow slightly furrowed. "You survived entirely by luck." There was no comfort in his tone, as if Ethan's joke was beneath notice.
"Ah, that's just talent, brother," Ethan said, brushing off the dust and trying to steady himself. He forced a smile, though exhaustion lingered beneath it. "See? Even my luck with death is better than most."
Silas remained silent, his eyes lingering on Ethan for a moment before shifting to the distant ruins, as if assessing potential dangers.
The air in the town slowly settled. Ethan inhaled deeply, lifting his head to the night sky, remnants of crimson sunlight still faintly glowing. The sensation of having clawed his way back from the edge of death made his palms sweat and his heart race. He muttered wryly to himself, "First mission and almost got killed… quite the initiation ceremony."
Back at the Nightmare Investigation Bureau headquarters, the atmosphere was a stark contrast to the ruins of Phantom Dream Town. Order was strict, and the air carried a biting chill. Director Helena stood silently in the center of the hall. Her gray-blue eyes, sharp as blades, landed on Ethan, pressing down with an unprecedented weight.
"Mission completed, but the execution was rough. Too many procedural violations," Helena said, her voice cold and absolute. "By rights, you shouldn't have passed the assessment."
The hall fell silent. New recruits held their breath, all eyes on Ethan. The tension was taut, like a string ready to snap at the slightest sound.
Ethan grinned, feigning ease. "So… should I die again to retake the exam?"
Silas gave a soft cough nearby, a silent reminder to tone it down. The coldness in his gaze reminded Ethan of the reality—he was no longer a lone operative, but firmly part of the Bureau's system.
Helena's expression remained icy as she scanned the hall. Finally, she slowly raised her hand, her voice cutting through the space like judgment:"However, you have shown a unique sensitivity to rift energy, which the Bureau requires. Even if I have doubts about you, regulations must be followed."
Ethan frowned slightly, a mixture of surprise and doubt stirring within him. He knew that this so-called "unique sensitivity" marked him as different—and meant he would be drawn into even more dangerous missions.
Helena's raised hand felt like a verdict:"Ethan Veil, from this day forward, you are officially a member of the Nightmare Investigation Bureau."
A brief silence fell over the hall, as if the air itself had frozen. The new recruits exchanged low glances, quietly processing the announcement.
Ethan arched an eyebrow and whistled, trying to lighten the mood. "Official staff… shouldn't there be a welcome party? Maybe some cake at least?"
Silas stepped beside him, giving his shoulder a firm clap, and muttered, "Shut up."
Ethan smiled, but a wave of tension surged within him. Becoming an official member meant responsibility—and danger. His fingers trembled slightly, the faint pulse of the ink mark on his chest reminding him—this was more than a title; it was a connection to nightmares, rifts, and endless secrets.
He scanned the hall. People were either hunched over files or whispering to one another, the air still thick with residual tension. No one knew that beneath the surface humor, Ethan's mind was churning.
He clenched his fists, muttering to himself, "Officially in the Bureau… then I must find out what you're hiding, Ronan."
The words hammered into his consciousness like a nail. Memories of the past few days flickered—Phantom Dream Town's rift, the nightmare attacks, the moments he nearly died—each one cutting like a blade, reminding him that the danger had not ended.
He slowly sat down, eyes falling on the dossier in his hands. Each page recorded death and nightmare; each case could become his trap. Ethan understood that becoming an official Bureau member did not mean safety—it meant the real trials were only beginning.
Silas's figure lingered in a corner of the hall, his gaze slicing across Ethan like a cold blade, reminding him—trust in the Bureau takes time, and danger is omnipresent. Ethan mentally noted this; any lapse could cost a life.
Night filtered through the towering windows, shadows flowing across the floor like a hidden current. Ethan slowly stood, inhaling deeply, compressing all fear, fatigue, and doubts into his resolve. His gaze sharpened, reflecting steel:"Alright… now that I'm officially in, I'll uncover all the secrets. Ronan, you may hide at the start, but you won't escape the end."
The ink mark on his chest pulsed faintly, responding to his determination. His steps were steady and resolute, each one pressing into the unknown darkness without hesitation. He knew the road would be perilous—Nightmares, Phantom Dream Town, symbols, and rifts… each could be a lethal trap, but he had to move forward.
The hall's lights cast long shadows behind him, as if countless eyes watched from the dark. And in Ethan's heart, a fire had already ignited—no matter how deep the darkness, he would uncover the truth, find Ronan, and reveal every mystery hidden in the shadows.