CHAPTER 28: AWAKENING
The dorm felt the same as always—a prison. The walls were damp and cold, breathing out a faint chill. Water echoed somewhere in the dark. John's eyes were closed as his back pressed against the hard floor; with only the thin rag he called a bed to separate him from the stone.
It's been six months since the trial. Every day the same monotonous struggle, following the Covenant's strict training routine—except for a few changes. For instance:
A deck of cards snapped against the floor as Nico dealt with exaggerated seriousness, a red handprint still fresh across his cheek.
"Three slaps says you fold," he said.
Thomas leaned back, resting his weight on one hand and pointing at Nico with the other. "Three slaps says you talk too much."
Nico smirked, flicking another card across the floor. "We'll see."
Orion sat off to the side, rubbing his reddened face with a wince. "Nico, I really admire your tenacity. It's like you're a masochist or something."
Lucian chuckled, leaning against the wall. "Yeah, that guy's like a god at this. He even beat John—the one who came up with the damn game."
"Shut up, both of you," Nico snapped, clenching his fist in the air. "I can feel it this time—this is finally it. I will win this."
Orion snorted. "Yeah, right… or you'll end up like that guy." He pointed to Adam, sprawled on the ground like his soul had left his body.
Nico ignored him.
The next card hit the floor, and the room went quiet. Nico's grin faltered as he stared at his hand, realization sinking in. Thomas laid his cards down with a sigh, the winning spread clear for everyone to see.
Nico slumped back, the fight draining from his posture. "Damn it… That's not possible. You must have cheated," he muttered.
Thomas rubbed the back of his neck, his tone softer than usual. "Prove it. If not, just suck it up. You know, I almost feel sorry for you."
Nico let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head. "I don't need your pity… get on with it."
He closed his eyes firmly, bracing himself. "Make it quick."
Thomas hesitated, his hand hovering, then spoke. "Tell you what—how about I leave the slaps in return for a favor?"
For a moment, Nico's face lit up, hope flickering across his features. But before he could even answer, three successive slaps cracked against his cheek mercilessly.
Nico shot upright, his voice rising. "Damn it, Thomas! Why do you feel the need to do this?!" His hands clenched, frustration spilling out as he glared at him.
Thomas dropped the soft act and smirked. "Hey, you have to admit—that was a little funny."
"Funny?" Nico barked, his voice echoing in the cell. "What's funny is how your face will look when I strangle you!"
Nico lunged, trying to grab Thomas by the collar. Cards scattered like shrapnel across the floor as Thomas shoved back, half‑laughing, half‑defensive.
Adam, who had been sprawled out like a corpse, suddenly sat up. Orion and Lucian exchanged a glance, then all three raised their voices in unison.
"Get him! He deserves it!" they chanted, pounding the floor in rhythm before throwing themselves into the scuffle.
The dorm erupted—shouts, laughter, the slap of bodies colliding against stone.
John's eye twitched. He sat up slowly, his voice cutting through the noise.
"Keep it down, all of you. You're acting like kids."
But they didn't listen. The voices rose louder, the chaos pressing against his skull until his head throbbed.
John sighed, the thought gnawing at him. Wait… they are kids. Maybe I made a mistake introducing poker. What was meant to kill boredom has turned into madness.
Before he could say more, Amara's voice sliced through the air, dripping with mockery.
"Honestly, it's pathetic, Nico. You act all confident, just to end up slapped and make a ruckus."
Nico's glare snapped toward her, his voice sharp. "Pathetic? Don't talk to me about pathetic. You've been getting destroyed by Thalia in chess every night. At least I fight back."
Amara's retort died on her lips as Thalia's calm voice cut in from the corner.
"Check."
Amara froze, her ears drooping, tail flicking with frustration. She stared at the pieces, her pride crumbling. Finally, she exhaled, defeated.
"…I give up."
On the other side of the room, Elowen's voice rose, warm and thoughtful. "You know, John… your idea of games was brilliant. Without them, we'd all be staring at the ceiling, losing our minds." She moved a knight across the board, locked in her own match against Malric, who grunted in concentration.
Nico, still choking Thomas, stopped for a moment and barked out with a crooked grin.
"Yeah, that was a lifesaver, John. You even managed to make Nyara focus on something."
Across the room, Nyara sat cross-legged, twisting the Rubik's cube furiously in her hands. Her brows were knitted tight; her lips pressed together in stubborn concentration. The colored squares flashed in the dim light as she muttered under her breath, each click of the cube drowning out the chaos around her.
John, lost in his own thoughts, snapped back when he heard his name tossed into the noise. He rubbed his temple, voice low but firm.
"Well, you should be thanking ONE, it wouldn't have been possible without him helping us get the materials."
Thalia's calm tone carried from her corner; her eyes still fixed on the chessboard.
"That's true. It's surprising he helped us like that."
Thomas, finally able to breathe, staggered upright and rubbed his neck. His voice was hoarse but steady.
"He may be cold, but he's not that bad. I mean… imagine if it were someone like Bill."
From the corner, Liora's voice drifted in, calm but edged with curiosity. She idly rolled a small rock between her fingers, her eyes never leaving it.
"By the way… today's the day of the Awakening, isn't it?"
Sylas, hanging lazily from his vines, gave a slow nod. The shadows stretched across his face as he swayed in rhythm with the creaking tendrils.
"That's right," he murmured, his tone carrying weight. "The Awakening begins today."
The words settled over the room like a chill. The laughter died, replaced by uneasy silence. Orion shifted uncomfortably, Lucian's smirk faded, and even Amara's tail stilled. Nyara's hands slowed on the Rubik's cube, her eyes darting toward the door. Malric tapped his fingers against the chessboard, restless.
John exhaled, breaking the tension. "Relax, everyone. We can't change what's coming. For now, just… breathe. Save your strength."
The dorm held its breath for a moment longer before the noise ebbed back into a fragile calm. Time passed —until the iron door creaked open.
One stepped inside, his boots echoing against the stone. His gaze swept across the squad, sharp and unreadable.
"It's time to go."
The group didn't waste a second. They rose with practiced ease, falling into line as they followed him out into the corridor. The air felt heavier, each step dragging them closer to what awaited.
Halfway through, Nico—still rubbing his cheek—blurted out, voice wavering between bravado and fear.
"Hey… what do you think of our chances?"
One slowed, his stride steady but deliberate. He didn't look back, only spoke with a calm certainty.
"You will be fine."
Nico smirked nervously, the expression thin and fragile.
After a while, they finally reached the great hall. Waiting there were the other groups, their faces pale with anticipation. At the far end stood Lord Roan, his presence commanding the room like a shadow stretching across the stone.
When the last of the children entered, Roan raised his hand. His voice was low, but it carried with chilling clarity.
"Let's begin."
The air shimmered. In an instant, the hall dissolved around them.
Every child was pulled into blinding light, their bodies weightless for a heartbeat—until the world snapped back into focus.
They stood in a new chamber, sterile and silent. In front of each of them loomed a pod, its surface gleaming faintly, runes etched all over it.
Lord Roan's voice carried across the chamber, calm yet commanding.
"Enter the pods, and that is it. Good luck."
One by one, the children began stepping forward, their nervous footsteps echoing against the stone.
John hesitated. His head still spun from the teleportation—the sudden tearing of space, the blinding light, the weightless drop. His stomach churned as if the ground beneath him wasn't real. He blinked hard, trying to steady himself, but the chamber seemed to tilt and sway.
He shook his head, forcing the dizziness away, and stepped forward.
The pod loomed before him, its surface cold beneath his palm as he pressed against it. The runes etched across the metal glowed faintly, humming with restrained energy.
With a steady breath, John pulled the hatch open and climbed inside. The interior was narrow, lined with faintly pulsing veins of light. He settled back against the rigid frame, the hum surrounding him like a heartbeat.
The hatch slid shut with a hiss, sealing him in darkness. For a moment, all he could hear was the thrum of the pod and the echo of his own breathing.
Then a voice echoed inside the chamber—mechanical, cold, unyielding.
"Countdown initiated. Ten… Nine… Eight…"
John's breath quickened. Each number reverberated through the pod, rattling his nerves. His palms were slick against the metal frame, his chest tight.
"Three… Two… One."
The hum spiked.
Needles shot out from the walls, burying themselves in his skin. The cold sting was instant, but the fire that followed was unbearable. The serum surged through his veins like molten metal, burning every nerve it touched.
John's body convulsed violently, his back arching against the rigid frame of the pod. His scream tore from his throat, raw and desperate, but the sealed chamber swallowed it whole, leaving only the echo of the machine's relentless hum.
His vision fractured—white sparks exploding behind his eyes, the world twisting into shards of light and shadow. Every heartbeat felt like a hammer blow, every breath like knives carving through his chest.
The pain was endless, merciless, consuming.
Then suddenly, it was gone.
And from the stillness, a voice whispered calm and familiar.
"Hello, John."