Serian jolted awake.

  Another dream...

  His breath was ragged, his heart pounding so fiercely he could hear it echoing in his ears.

  Inhale...

  Exhale...

  Inhale...

  Exhale...

  He forced himself to calm down. Serian closed his eyes.

  This feeling again...

  With a final sigh, he opened them and scanned the room.

  Years of sleepless nights had trained his eyes to pierce the darkness.

  The room was empty and dull.

  The walls, the ceiling, even the floor — all the same dusty gray.

  He dug his hand into a leather bag by the foot of his bed and pulled out a watch, silver in appearance.

  He tried to read the time, but the hands were too blurry in the dark.

  With a soft groan, he tossed the watch back into the bag.

  Grabbing it without much care for his disheveled state, he headed toward the door with heavy steps.

  Outside, the streets were deserted. Not a single soul in sight.

  The night was silent.

  Looking up, Serian saw a sky smothered in heavy gray clouds.

  He smiled.

  At least the barrier’s still holding. I should go before sunrise.

  He stood there for a while, unmoving, admiring the oppressive sky with a radiant smile.

  Lormes...

  My city. The only one I know.

  In my dream, you looked so glorious.

  And yet, he... he still despised you.

  Calming himself with this silent meditation, Serian closed his eyes again and dared to recall the dream.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  He saw a different landscape, through the eyes of another.

  The one who always haunted his nights.

  He couldn’t move.

  Trapped inside another’s body.

  That helplessness... He hated it.

  Serian opened his mouth—

  No, not him.

  It was the other.

  The other spoke.

  His gaze turned toward an elegant man, imposing in presence, draped in a flowing white robe.

  “Father, is this where they built the Purifier? This place feels... so desolate,” the other said in a soft voice.

  “It’s exactly why we chose this city," the man replied. "Something this dangerous must be isolated.”

  The other lowered his eyes to the city below the mountain.

  A grand city, gleaming in bronze hues.

  Serian gasped.

  Even though he had seen it countless times in his dreams, it always stunned him.

  It was Lormes.

  Alive. Prosperous.

  Nothing like the ruined carcass he lived in now.

  Serian reopened his eyes.

  Still standing there, alone, in the deserted street.

  He lowered his head.

  Pathetic. I’m so pathetic.

  That beautiful city... I've only ever seen it in dreams.

  And yet, he... He found it desolate.

  A bitter laugh escaped his throat.

  Then he laughed harder, until tears blurred his vision.

  How funny...

  Wiping his eyes, Serian took a small alley to his left, a bright smile still lighting up his face.

  An innocent-looking smile.

  After about fifteen minutes of walking through the lifeless streets—where not even rats dared tread—he arrived at a metal building with a tiny wooden door.

  He ducked to pass through it.

  Inside, it was pitch black.

  He rummaged through his bag and pulled out a candle and a few matches.

  His fingers trembled slightly as he lit the candle.

  Light flooded the room, revealing only a staircase leading down.

  With the flickering flame casting shifting shadows across his face, Serian slowly descended the steep steps.

  At the bottom... the world changed.

  The walls, the floor, the ceiling — everything was made of copper.

  Silver threads crisscrossed the walls like intricate spiderwebs, carrying a strange flowing substance.

  It wasn't quite a liquid.

  More like fire, but flowing slowly.

  Touching it felt like a cold wind brushing your skin.

  Careful not to disrupt the flow, Serian followed a narrow path traced on the floor.

  Blocking the substance would cripple the city's heating system.

  He was here to inspect the circuits — a task he barely understood himself.

  The only certainty: this strange energy kept the barrier alive, shielding Lormes from the deadly northern cold.

  Without it, they would all die.

  He methodically checked the silver threads, using a small syringe to unclog or balance the flow where needed, making sure not to damage the delicate filaments.

  Once his inspection was done, Serian sat down, exhausted.

  He knew the few survivors of Lormes trusted him with their lives.

  No one else had the eye, the patience, or the intuition to maintain the system.

  One mistake, and they'd all be dead.

  He smiled at the thought.

  I could kill them all right now.

  Just a slip of the syringe, and they’d scream, beg, and die like dogs.

  Maybe, if they're lucky, they'd get another shot at reincarnation...

  He tucked the syringe away and climbed back up.

  I’d die too.

  I'm no better than them.

  The other... would laugh at me.

  He hadn't noticed the time passing.

  The sun had already risen.

  With light steps and a cheerful hum, Serian made his way to the city center — the place where the last 200 survivors had gathered among the least ruined buildings.

  Even with the sun up, the city remained shrouded in darkness.

  The barrier could keep out the cold, the storms, and the rain... but not the oppressive sky.

  Serian was used to it.

  He was born here.

  He had just turned twenty this year...

  Or so he guessed.

  Nobody bothered to count the days anymore when survival itself was uncertain.