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64.1% Shadow Slave | Sleepless Dreamer / Chapter 49: The Unkind and Less Unkind Memories (3)

Chapter 49: The Unkind and Less Unkind Memories (3)

Hope hesitated before placing the crescent ornament back on his left ear, the cool metal a contrast to the feverish heat from his wounds.

'Never thought I'd wear jewelry for a Memory…or ever that is…'

He then slowly lowered his body to sit down in the stark pool of light. Leaning forward, legs lazily spread out, he stared blankly forward as his mind focused on the pain in his wounds. The throbs and aches were again a great distraction from the voices—anything that would keep him from its threatening sea.

And…he waited. 

How fast was this Memory going to work? Minutes? Hours? 

Well, he had all night afterall.

Sleep was not going to ensnare him.

Bzzzzch…

At that moment, the magic hummed against his ear. 

Hope hesitated but then sorely reached over and rolled back his dark sleeves up to his elbows. The sticky sound of cloth peeling off flesh wetly murmured into the air as the wounds were revealed under the moonlight like black ripped holes. The claw marks on his right forearm down to his wrist from the Profaned were there as well. 

Hope blinked nonchalantly, his fingers shakily flexing and unflexing into fists.

And then inside of him grew another presence. 

A warmth blossomed into a healing force and invisibly wrapped around his body.

Slowly but surely, the pain dulled, the sharpness of his injuries fading into the background. The deep aches and strains and whatever unfound bruises on himself melted away.

The grazed bullet wound on his side was the first open wound to heal. Like a lip, it slowly closed its ripped mouth and sealed itself, refrained from speaking anymore of its bitterness.

Then the clawed marks on his right followed. As if time had reversed, it closed, undoing the damage left brutally behind—the jagged gashes smoothed out leaving faint, silvery scars instead. Finally, the punctured wounds started to heal, the flesh knitting together as though the hound's teeth had never pierced his skin. Except for maybe the also faded white marks. 

And what feverish heat he had felt before was now washed away, feeling more aware of night's coldness against his skin. Though his sleeves were hardened and his skin stained from his blood, the wounds were no more. Even his tongue he had bitten down so many times before was fine.

'This is…fortunate…?'

The scars may have replaced them. But that wasn't an issue for Hope. Scars were scars.

"Hm…" Hope let out a thoughtful hum as he tilted his head.

Six minutes it took for the pearls to charge. He also noticed that in the order his wounds healed, it had likely been due to the fact of what kind of enemy caused it. Although the demon hound and the damn Awakened had thrown him around, there was no specific magic traced in those impacts. So those went away first. But the claws from the dormant Profaned and the bite from the Awakened Demon had varied healing rates.

The grazed bullet wound happened to be a normal bullet instead of the special manufactured one. At least now he knew some of those Sector Two people did carry Brave Arm guns as well…

That was another question for another day.

Or. Never.

But anyways, if he were to be attacked by something higher than an Awakened Demon, the healing rate would certainly be slow.

Hopefully not impossible either.

'And it only works at night.' Or just charged at night?

"..."

He will figure it out as he goes.

'Huh. Well then.'

Hope dismissed the memory as he stood up. Rolling his shoulders, a slight tension coiled tight inside them. 

It wasn't necessarily pain or an injury that the magic had missed. He just had not stretched in a long while. And a stretch wasn't a bad idea at the moment.

He lifted his arms above his head, interlocking his fingers as he stretched towards the sky under the broken hole. The stretch pulled at the knots in his muscles, a slow burn that made him let out a small sigh. He arched his back as well. He elongated his spine as a rhythm of satisfying pops trailed down.

Now he could probably fight better.

Although preferably with a long-range weapon. Not a shield.

But he got what he got.

Hope reached up and pulled himself up through the gaping hole in the roof, his muscles moving with ease this time.

A draft of cold wind blew in his face and hair once he entered into the open air. In his peripheral, some shadowed buildings loomed a few stories taller.

Brushing the dust from his hands, Hope scanned around.

The night was quiet, save for the distant Nightmare Creatures and whispers of the wind threading through the remains of the city. 

Somewhere behind him down the block behind other buildings that shielded his view was where he knew the glass dome was. The memory of the Awakened chasing him automatically played in his mind but he ignored it. Because he had also remembered back in the glass dome when Master Leda pointed out the window, tall black shadows like drawn inked lines could be seen at that time.

And right now, they were slightly closer.

The building he was on wasn't quite tall—two and a half stories it was—but he could see the peaks of tall dark broken skyscrapers over other rooftops. A couple that leaned their heads against each other.

When Hope walked towards the edge of the roof and peered down the street, he could see the vines webbed across walls and windows like power chords. And there was the usual plentiful feathered grass in asphalt and long-necked leaves up pipes and ledges, thickening further down each building.

At least this was a sign he was reaching somewhat closer to the city's center.

And the further out he peered over down the street was just the endless rows of broken buildings, stretching on into the darkness of the night.

"..."

Hope recalled the rough drawn map back at the glass dome, how Master Leda's finger traced down the paper into the marked open terrain. The memory of course filmed across his eyes. The city was drawn in an awkward rectangular shape lengthening north and south. But strangely enough, the city's center wasn't…actually in the center as he thought…

Huh. Was it the city's centre or the city's center? Was there a difference?

Hope shrugged. 'They sound the same to me.'

But on the map, he found it marked closer towards the southern part of the city. That would make sense as to why it was still so far.

Hope folded his arms and nonchalantly tapped with his finger as he stared absentmindedly into the distance.

His next objective…was to find this outcast Awakened. 

That Kurt guy mentioned: Paranoid, higher ground, sets up traps.

How the hell was he going to find that guy in the city?

Hope looked up at the night sky.

He supposed that was a question he could answer…

...till sunrise came.

Which was hours away. So, what should he do by then?

"Tsk."

Hope clicked his tongue in annoyance as he summoned his shield, looking down as the metal plate began gleaming under the moon. 

He supposed he could adapt to this Memory. Properly train and see to its full potential. Because he had all night afterall.


Chapter 50: The Unkind and Less Unkind Memories (4)

Hope did say the past was the past…But he could make an exception for this...circumstance. 

He first began with the basics in training, moving his arm in smooth, deliberate arcs as the shield sliced through the air.

Swoosh!

Swish!

Light. It was very light.

Hope had held a sword before, especially when training with one of his commanding officers. So, he supposed he could imagine the same with his shield. Just. Smaller. 

Much much smaller.

But after he did that for some time, as his hot breath blew like a pale cloud in front of him, he decided to merge himself into the memories from his training days. He would first catch them in his memory's sea, imagining specific moments in his past. He either replayed it or moved on to the next memory to train with.

But the sounds would always come first.

As Hope moved on to the next memory, there it was, the clash of steel ringing in his ear. The stifled grunts and barked words from his commanding officers followed after. And the current night which cloaked him and the city in its embrace was now fading as fluorescent lights started to split through the air. After came a high ceiling and a wide expanded room, shadowed figures being traced in the distance.

The process was just like how it was in the wasteland.

How the images would flash sporadically at first before piecing themselves together.

A faint figure began appearing in front of him. Fighting him. Before they became concrete, the memory gripped each of his nerves and muscles and pulled him into the scene.

Immediately, Hope was submerged. 

He felt his own breath coming in ragged bursts, and his muscles burned with exertion as he squared off against his commanding officer: Captain Doran. Although he could faintly feel himself gripping onto his shield as he followed through the movements during the present, his mind replaced it with a sword. Becoming one with the past.

Sweat dripped down Hope's brow.

Eyes stinging—

—but he didn't dare blink.

Hope could feel the eyes of the other soldiers around him at the edge of the mat, but all that mattered was him and his opponent.

Kwang! Kwang! Kwang!

"Again!" Doran's voice shouted.

!!!

The captain lunged forward, his sword flashing in a blur of motion.

Instinctively, Hope brought his blade up just in time to deflect the strike. But the force rattled up his arms as he held his ground, pushing back with all his strength.

Of course, Doran didn't give him a moment to recover. 

He pivoted smoothly, coming at Hope from the side as the sword arced towards his ribs.

Hope's eyes flicked towards him in that split instant.

He spun on his heel, his blade catching Doran's at the last second.

Kwangangg—

The clash of metal rang out like a bell.

His body strained with exhaustion and his heart pounded. Harsh gasps blew past his lips as he kept this up for…ten minutes?

"Too slow, solider!" Doran barked as he pressed into his attack, forcing Hope to retreat step by step across the matted floor.

Relentless.

Kwang! Kwang—

Each one faster and more precise than the last.

Hope's mind raced. Forcing his limbs to swing to block, parry, and counter what he could with everything he had.

Wooosh!

Hope ducked.

The near miss sent a jolt of adrenaline through his veins.

His fingers twitched as he pulled himself forward for a counterattack, his sword slashing upward in a wide arc.

Too wide Hope had thought.

His captain was already ready.

Doran sidestepped effortlessly, bringing his own blade down with a force that sent Hope's sword clattering to the ground.

Another distant clattering rang in his ear. But before Hope could register it, the tip of Doran's sword poked against his shoulder.

Hope forced himself to stand, his chest heaving, feeling the heat stuffily hug around him and the sticky sweat lathering on his skin. Even a salty taste touched his tongue. His eyes remained calm as he glanced back at his commanding officer. Murmurs then swept across the room from the soldiers as they watched from the sidelines.

Doran paused, some emotion shifted in his eyes before he sheathed his sword. A slight chuckle escaped him but quickly disappeared as if he was almost embarrassed by it.

He extended a hand to Hope. "You're improving."

Hope blinked.

He stared at his hand before reaching out reluctantly and shaking it. The contact feeling strange and foreign against his palm.

"But in battle, there won't be room for mistakes."

Usually this was the moment Hope would hear one of the soldiers voice 'I'll do better' or 'I'll give it my best' or 'I won't let you down.' But Hope remained silent. He just took a duly note of his words. Logically, anyone could die when they walk out into the battlefield. And Hope was not spared from those numbers.

So, he simply nodded in acknowledgment.

Doran then turned away and began heading towards another commanding officer behind the sidelines, a Master in fact. Ah. It was her. The one who liked drinking coffee and had an opinion on almost any subject. Hope would train against her as well.

And that was hell.

However, she was not dressed in the usual tunic attire. She looked like an extravagant civilian with her white blazer and wide flimsy black hat that covered her hair and face, spare for the smile that was glossed with black lipstick.

"Take deep breaths, soldier." She said.

Hope held back a frown as he took in a deep breath. 

Counted to ten. 

Then breathed out.

He couldn't deny that it did help but he didn't need reminding for it.

Doran smiled at her. "Ah wife. Giving advice to one of my students rather than greeting me–"

"That 'advice' is something I tell myself everyday when I come home to you, y'know."

Hope blinked.

He wondered what that meant. Not that he was too curious to even ask.

Before he turned away, her voice called out to him.

"Hope!"

Hope paused and looked back.

"Don't forget." She said. "Report to my office at 1400 hours tomorrow for a briefing."

Majority of the soldiers tilted their heads and murmured in confusion. Although only a few from the crowd remained indifferent about it. In fact, Hope noticed that she wasn't only talking to him but to them as well.

Doran seemed to have missed that small communication.

"Stealing my students as well?"

She let out an annoyed sigh. "Why don't you-"

And they continued their bickering.

Hope turned and started to reach for his dropped sword—

"Erk!"

Krrr!

Hope tripped over his shield.

He kicked it, the metal scratched against the floor as it slid across the roof. Hope caught himself as he leaned against the ledge, the cold surface meeting his palm. He was so absorbed into his memory that he didn't realize he had also dropped his shield at the same time he dropped his sword.

"Sigh….."

'How many memories was that?'

Ten different memories. And some, again, he replayed at least four times. He took breaks in between, recreating them without being absorbed instead.

It felt like forever since he last trained. But the ritual to practice brought some...normalcy back.

"Meet at 1400 hours..." Hope muttered, echoing from his recent memory as their voices still lingered in his mind.

"That should be enough training then." Hope said as leaned on his knees, taking in deep breaths to calm his heart.

Slowly but surely, the memory melted away from his nerves. The ache that rattled his arms had faded as he counted the seconds. Although he was still sweating himself as he went through this memory process for some time. He tried to make it a rule that he wasn't going to be absorbed into one longer than thirty minutes.

'Must've been hours…' Hope thought as he looked up.

East.

At that moment, the dark ambience in the city drained as a new glow started to appear. The thick blanket of clouds had returned, the moon now long gone down the horizon. But in the far distance was a piercing light.

This time he could see the sun rising.

Dawn had finally approached.


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