How long has it been?

I'd been waiting for what felt like forever, but the induction ceremony still hadn't begun.

Technically, the ceremony was supposed to start the moment the head instructor appeared on the podium. But that man , whoever he was, had yet to arrive for reasons I couldn't begin to guess.

'They sure are taking their sweet time.'

I clicked my tongue in irritation.

The noise didn't help either. The entire hall was buzzing with chatter.

Why couldn't everyone just wait in silence?

The answer was obvious. Gather a crowd of restless youths together — regardless of race, background, or appearance — and they would only want to do one thing.

Talk.

Every person here was a Sleepless who had cleared the First Phrase. Some had overwhelmed their trials, others had simply excelled, but each had gone through their own unique experiences.

And what better way to kill time than to compare notes?

Some people even came up to me, curious about my own experiences.

It caught me off guard, but I managed well enough.

If someone asks you a question, you're supposed to answer, right? Truthfully, even. The problem is, I'm not exactly the social type, so the results were… predictable.

The conversations usually went something like this:

"This place sure is lively. But is this really everyone? What about those who didn't make it back? Is it okay to congratulate like this?"

"I don't know. And honestly, what's the point of worrying about the dead?"

Or:

"Which do you think is better? An armor-type Echo, or an offensive one?"

"Would either of those stop the monsters? I saw a man once... small terrors ate through his body. Some entered his eyes and anus then burrowed into his brain until he turned into a zombie. "

Or:

"Hey, how many did you kill during your Phrase?"

This one I didn't understand. What did it matter? Dead was dead. Nevertheless, I answered:

"It's hard to count. There were about forty, maybe fifty of us, at the beginning. But in the end… all of them are dead."

The reaction was immediate.

Conversations died mid-sentence. A few faces went pale. People edged away as if I carried some kind of disease. Some stared at me with thinly veiled disgust, others with outright fear. And then, faint but unmistakable, I heard someone whispering 'monster.'

How did it come to this?

There was definitely a misunderstanding.

For example, the first person to ask me a question was a respectful male elf. He was sentimental about the deceased, but I told him worrying about the dead was meaningless. This was the truth. Worrying had no power to bring the dead back nor does someone's tears, so what use was it? But the elf misunderstood my words as disregard for the dead and called me a heartless bastard. He even went as far as to spit on the ground.

The second person was a female elf. Upon clearing the First Phrase, she received an Enchantress Robe and a Spirit Ward. She asked me which one was better. I answered sincerely: personally, I thought neither would protect her if monsters got close enough. From her appearance and posture, she didn't seem like a warrior, more of a long-ranged fighter. To emphasize my point, I recalled one of my experiences on the Forbidden Isle. Her face went pale and she vomited on the spot. Some elves carried her away, but not before glaring at me as if I were to blame.

And lastly, a beastfork approached and asked about my experiences. From his sturdy frame, I guessed he was the warrior type. When he asked how many had died, I answered truthfully. When my group first arrived on the Forbidden Isles, there had been around forty to fifty people on the bus. But we were attacked again and again until everyone was killed, one by one. What was the point of explaining in extreme detail? So I kept it short and simply said all of them died in the end. But upon hearing that, the beastman screamed and bolted as if his life was on the line.

What was even the misunderstanding there? The question was simple and the answer was direct.

'Hold on…' ᴛhis chapter is ᴜpdated by noⅴelfire.net

Now that I think about it, didn't the last guy actually ask me how many I killed during my Phrase? Not how many died?

The hall had been so noisy I must've misheard. He was probably talking about monsters. But the way I worded my answer, it sounded like I'd just admitted to slaughtering dozens of people and enjoyed it as well.

Okay, that one was partly on me. But honestly, couldn't he have been a little more specific?

In the end, this was how it turned out: after only a handful of conversations, Sleepless Sonny had somehow become a vile thieving devil. The reputation stuck in minutes, as if it had been waiting to happen. Some even went so far as to whisper that I really was the devil.

At that point, even if I managed to clear up the misunderstanding, my name was already caked in mud and there was no washing it away.

I knitted my brows.

What to do? This was certainly going to be a problem in the future.

'At least, no one is approaching me anymore.'

With a sigh, I sank against the wall, keeping to myself.

Since leaving the Forbidden Isle, my smartphone had been gone, leaving me with nothing to do.

It was absolutely dreadful.

By sheer coincidence, someone else had found their way to this corner of corpses: a young woman exuding a quiet, warm presence. She wore a short black T-shirt knotted at the bottom, revealing her belly button, paired with dark blue jeans. Clean, neat, and carefully put together. Even from here, I could catch a faint, pleasant scent, likely her perfume.

She was quite the beauty.

Her black hair was tied into a long ponytail that fell to her waist. She leaned casually against the wall, with a long sheathed object resting beside her and her eyes closed, seemingly indifferent to the world around her.

'What kind of sword is that? I've never seen one like it before.'

As I thought this, my attention shifted to something protruding from her forehead: a black horn.

An Oni. She was… a demonic species?

My curiosity flickered for a moment, but I let it pass. Soon, I closed my eyes, shutting out the woman's presence and the world's relentless noise.

† †

Moments later, I opened my eyes at the sound of approaching footsteps.

At last, someone was making their way to the podium.

All attention shifted to the figure: a tall man clad in a black, military-style uniform.

His black uniform was crisp and immaculate, adorned with metallic insignias in the form of 'two stars,' which could be located at his right breastplate. Broad shoulders filled out the jacket perfectly, giving him a frightening, almost intimidating silhouette.

His hair was jet-black, slicked back smoothly and his eyes were cold and calculating, sweeping across the room like a refined blade. There was a quiet authority in his posture, a subtle aura that made the bustling chatter around him falter. Even the boldest of the Sleepless instinctively straightened their posture, as if acknowledging some unspoken hierarchy.

It felt like the entire hall had shrunk to fit his presence. Finally, he spoke with a calm and measured voice:

"Sleepless, welcome to the Imperium Academy. I am Enlightened Sonic, though you may call me Awakened Sonic. I'm not good at introductions, but I will be your head instructor this year."

The hall was massive, and the podium stood at a considerable distance. Normally, a voice this calm wouldn't carry far enough to reach everyone. Yet somehow, his words resonated throughout the space, crystal clear.

What was this? Some kind of sound-based ability?

'That's incredible.'

Of course, my shadow didn't share my excitement. It shrugged as if to say, "So what? Big deal." I nearly laughed at its indifference.

Following a brief pause, Awakened Sonic continued,

"In a month or so, according to our local bamboo, a Prism Pool will open near the fortress. Some of you may believe you are prepared, but you are not. The Spire is as merciless as it is unpredictable. The moment Blasphemers grow arrogant or overconfident, they will be swallowed whole by the Void. I have seen countless young Sleepless like you lose their lives, and even experienced Inquisitors fall to the most vile abominations imaginable. Not even the Transcendents are guaranteed to survive at all."

The entire atmosphere shifted in an instant. Shoulders trembled, especially the female elf who had spoken to me earlier.

It was baffling. How could they have survived with weak mentality?

Looking around, not all reacted the same. Some Sleepless remained calm and unmoved, as if already anticipating these harsh truths.

"Before your fateful departure, we will do everything possible to improve your chances of survival. You will train under the guidance of the finest instructors that Niflheim can offer. But do not let their renown blind you, for when the Spire claims its due, when darkness presses in from all sides, it will not be their strength that saves you — it will be your own. A sword kept idle gathers dust and rust; a sword honed with care, tempered by fire and repetition, becomes a force that strikes true in the moment of reckoning."

Following that, Awakened Sonic shook his head, a trace of pity in his expression, and said:

"It's regrettable… to think the day would come when I would send young souls into that place. But it cannot be helped. The moment you arrived in the Soul Realm, all hope of a normal life was washed away. This is your reality now. You have already completed the first phase, so you have a rough understanding of how the Spire functions. Your parents, your tutors… they cannot help you."

His gaze swept over a certain group of people, likely the so-called Imperials, as if his words were directed at them alone. In fact, it seemed he was talking to them this entire time.

'It would be great if he just skipped to their hardships and important part…'

By coincidence, or perhaps by chance, Awakened Sonic spoke the words I had been waiting to hear.

"Very well. Since that is settled, let us move on to the topic of the Soul Realm. Or we call the Silver Void."