After his disastrous outing with Caeden, Tyr felt as if some innocent part of him had been snipped away. It wasn’t like it ruined him or anything. But his mind kept returning to that memory, picking at it like a scab that refused to heal.

  His cousin had simply wished to bond with him, and even in this world, with its wonders and magic and utopian facade, there were cruel, thoughtless fools that simply wanted to stir up trouble.

  Tyr couldn’t stop thinking about Caeden’s unconscious figure splayed out in the grass. Back on Earth, knocking someone out for a sustained period mostly meant brain damage. Tyr doubted the damage would be permanent in this world, but he couldn’t help but think how helpless he had been. How useless.

  In his past life as James, he had never truly been bullied, but he had been a passive entity. If someone in his friend group wanted to do something, he went along with it. If they had some foolish idea, he tagged along in the periphery, never quite voicing his dissent, but hoping that others would notice how uncomfortable he was and speak up in his stead.

  It had always been a facet of his personality that he despised. It allowed him to blend in, to become a comfortable, unthreatening fixture of some group of richer or more attractive kids. The mascot. He had despised every minute of his passivity. Yet, when a new opportunity came to buck the trend, he would let it slip by, telling himself that he would set boundaries next time.

  Realistically, there wasn’t much a three year old could have done in that situation. But that wasn’t quite true. He could’ve declared who he was, for instance. Based on the reaction of the bodyguard who seemed to recognize him, invoking his true identity would have caused them to back off. But he had just sat there, gaping with an open mouth, as if he was watching some skit play out before him.

  I don’t want any more regrets.

  And that was why, for the next few days, he didn't leave his new residence in the city.

  After their night at the Blue Crest Inn, the Hollans had settled into a villa carved into the main trunk of Valorwood, almost identical to the main building of their countryside estate. His parents had decided to remain in the Undercity while finding him suitable tutors and playmates.

  Though he sensed that they wanted him to grow closer to Caeden, Tyr refused to see his cousin. The boy showed up for three days straight, knocking on the main door of the villa, being turned away by one of the Grey Maids, then marching away with a straight back and a blank face, before he finally got the hint.

  Tyr knew he was being stupid. Petulant. Why punish Caeden for something out of his control? But he couldn’t help but think about how their very first outing in the city, they had encountered some snot-faced bullies. They’d been helpless. Tyr would have ended up bruised and battered if one of the Grey Maids hadn’t been watching him. The physical violence didn’t scare him; the indignity did.

  Next time, he would be prepared. No one would harm his family and friends like that. And to achieve that goal, he had to get serious. There would be time to repair their budding relationship later.

  Still, the first time Caeden attempted to visit, Tyr wondered if refusing to see the boy would just be another regret. But, no, he thought he was actually being rational. Now was not the time to play. Now was not the time to pretend he would be a spellblade or whatever childish fancy he had entertained. That wasn’t his destiny.

  And so, Tyr began to read. Their villa had a lounge room with a Cloud Recliner, so he simply curled up inside of it and turned the first page of his Endless Notebook.

  A day after the incident with Caeden, Tyr had been granted Second Floor Access to the Undercity’s local Library. Basic and intermediate information, though no specific details on anything that could be considered dangerous or restricted. When Father delivered the news, he seemed to expect some sort of tantrum from Tyr.

  He had just shrugged and started with the first recommendation Leon had offered: System Compendium, Vol. 1, by Master Garanos. This version was an introduction to Statuses, Achievements, and General Skills, meant as a basic primer. It was three thousand pages, and it was exactly what he needed. The thought of dangerous and restricted information tickled the back of his mind, but it would be useless without context.

  He needed to know what he didn’t know. The foundations. That had basically always been his approach to studying a new subject. Read the dull 101 textbook, even if he didn’t bother completing the activities or little quizzes at the end of each chapter. Once that was done, and he knew the skeleton of his new topic of interest, it was time to branch out along the suggested follow-up books.

  Tyr finished Volume 1 of the Compendium in two days. He set the Notebook aside whenever he ate or used the bathroom, but the contents were always imprinted within his mind. As he chewed his meals, he also chewed on the knowledge he’d gained.

  The amount of information was staggering. He had to resist the urge to fill up one of his remaining General Skill Slots with some Learning modifier. That was what he had [ Focused Mind ] for. As that particular boon leveled, the intensity of his dedication reached an almost feverish crescendo.

  His Notebook adjusted its size to fit the contents of the book. Volume 1 had been a hulking monstrosity. A sense of pride and success filled Tyr after he turned the last page. He glanced at the half-finished griffin-meat sandwich—who left that for me?—before leaning back and closing his eyes.

  His dreams were a blurred mess. Snippets of random information from the first Volume played out across his subconscious. Floating words that morphed into gibberish or changed to a new topic midway through. Voices of past professors droning on about various easy-to-acquire Achievements he should attempt. False System notifications flitted across his vision, informing him that he had acquired Unique and Divine boons, or that he was set to evolve an esoteric skill into something incomprehensible.

  It was dark when he went to sleep, and still dark when he woke up. Pale moonlight sulked through the open window off to the side.

  Was I only out a couple hours?

  Tyr blinked some lingering notifications out of his eyes.

  Focused Mind (Common) 11 > 24.

  [ General Skill Reading (Common) is now available. ]

  [ General Skill Comprehension (Uncommon) is now available. ]

  [ General Skill Teaching (Uncommon) is now available. ]

  [ General Skill Lucid Dreaming (Rare) is now available. ]

  An interesting assortment of options. Volume 1 spoke highly of the first three, and not at all about the last one. Before his mind could begin to analyze the pros and cons of each option, he settled his focus back on the final one.

  He glanced back at the window, and the moonlight seeping through it. That detail made no sense. No feeble light would trickle through that window, because Valorwood’s Canopy would have blocked it all from his new villa.

  Tyr waved his hand, and the sickly moonbeams vanished. The back of his own hand was translucent. Warped, as if he was looking at it through water.

  I’m dreaming, huh?

  It reminded him of his Trial, to an extent. That had also been a figment of his imagination. One meant to test his mettle, and allow him to test himself in a sandbox environment. But he hadn’t wished to linger within the Trial, even if it would have been beneficial to manipulate all of his mana types.

  The reason had been simple. He had discovered it was a construct of his Mind, and his Mind was lacking. Even in the context of a System Trial, anything he learned had a risk of being wrong. Or corrupted. How could he actually learn anything within what was essentially a faulty simulation? His misconceptions, his biases, his ignorance, all would infect his mental environment. Everything he ‘learned’ had the very real potential of being completely, utterly false.

  His first instinct was to wake himself up and return to his studying, but he found himself pausing. This dream realm was more stable, more coherent, than the false reality of his Trial of Myriad Affinities. He touched his forehead. No infinite fountain of Mind and Dream Mana spilling from it this time.

  Some instinct, some sense of danger, spiked. Tyr flung himself from the Cloud Recliner.

  A moment later, the window exploded inward. Fragments of glass sparkled, turned, twisted, intermingled with splinters of dark wood. Flecks of vibrant purple gleamed within the depth of each minisicule piece.

  [Identify.]

  Broken Dream Window. It’s a broken dream window. It’s made out of broken dream mana.

  Identify (Common) 10 > 12.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  A moment later, the deluge of fragments crashed into the Cloud Recliner, shredding it. Tyr hit the ground with his shoulder, turned it into an awkward roll back to his feet. Low center of gravity was useful, and the pain of such a maneuver completely muted in this false environment.

  Though it would have been an uncomfortable shower if it hit him, the broken window wasn’t his problem. His problem was what came through it. An eldritch monstrosity. A mass of writhing purple tentacles fused to a central keystone. That keystone was in the shape of a hand, identical to Tyr’s in shape and size.

  Overall, it wasn’t much larger than himself. Still, it radiated a sense of danger, of misery, that prickled at his consciousness.

  Lesser Mindfiend. Unnatural Dreamspawn from the ????. Flee.

  Tyr made a decision. That decision was No.

  Instead, he clasped his hands together and imagined a sword. No wooden blade on this one. Mythril, with golden filigrees of mystical runes running along its length. Its white leather handle manifested in his hand, the purple tassels from the pommel faintly tickling his forearm.

  A moment later, the hand-head of the Lesser Mindfiend struck the ground in front of him. Its writhing tentacles lashed out at him; a multitude of seams opened along them, revealing disturbing, humanoid teeth that gnashed at him.

  Tyr swung. Mid-swing, he stopped.

  Will this break my Pacifism? This is just a dream, and I don’t know if this creature is real. Or sapient. But clearly this isn’t my dream. I would’ve recognized it, after establishing control over my own Mind during the Trial.

  I can’t be trapped within my own Mind. But what about someone else’s?

  Instead of clashing with the Lesser Mindfiend head-on, he danced backward. The frontmost writhing tentacle extended to within an inch of his face before reaching its limit. Tyr leapt backward; as soon as he touched the floor, he repeated the movement, his enhanced Dexterity and Strength allowed him to retreat several paces at a time.

  The hand-head flung itself after him, propelling itself forward with its foul tentacles. Yet, it seemed to match his exact pace.

  Suspicious.

  Tyr cast his perception outward, attempting to define the exact dimensions of the room. As expected, Dream Mana infused everything. The entire environment was a giant illusion of sickly purple energy, a foundation of interwoven lines that reminded him of a spider’s web. And he was trapped in the center, its prey.

  As he moved about the room, the mana construct adjusted itself to keep him perfectly within the middle. So, he wasn’t actually moving. He was just imagining he was, and the dreamworld was shifting around him to encourage the delusion.

  It’s a different shade of purple than my own Dream Mana, if I needed any more verification this isn’t coming from me. Is it literally Broken Dream Mana?

  Before he could allow himself to drift into a monologue, the hand-fiend lashed out at him once more. This time, it broke the rules of their choreographed dance and actually attempted to strike him with its full force.

  Tyr flexed his Will, and the mythril blade in his hand shattered. Each fragment whirled along its own vector, curving unnaturally as they rearranged themselves according to Tyr’s mental decree. They formed a barrier of levitating shards, then a moment later the gaps filled in to form a massive kiteshield. The thumps of the impacting tentacles reverberated through Tyr’s mind. Interestingly, he felt a slight strain, as if the blow drained some of his mental energy. Or perhaps imagining the larger shield had?

  Think later.

  Tyr pointed at the hovering shield. It lost cohesion, its edges spilling out like liquid mercury.

  “Expand. Spread. Contain.”

  Each word drained more of his mental energy, though it was like using a bucket to try and empty a lake. He had more than enough focus to form a mythril cage around the Lesser Mindfiend. Tentacles battered across the impregnable lattices that defined its new boundaries of existence.

  Tiny screams of outrage and threats poured out of the multitude of mouths. A variety of insults and slurs he hadn’t heard before, if he needed tertiary confirmation that he was engaged in some battle of minds. He wasn’t yet that inventive with the language.

  “You’re going to teach me some interesting things.”

  Tyr’s smile must have looked a bit insane, because the hand-head clenched itself to a fist and it wrapped its tentacles around it in a protective cocoon.

  With the threat contained, Tyr studied his surroundings more.

  [Identify.]

  Dream Construct - Lounge Interior. A localized spatial zone within the Dream Realm. It is formed from Broken Dream Mana.

  Identify (Common) 12 > 13.

  Perhaps the General Skill was offering him some additional information compared to usual? That seemed a little more verbose than the earliest levels had been. This…attempt to frighten him, or whatever it was, had its benefit. Another slew of gains, even while he was sleeping.

  After he memorized the shape and mental impression of the Dream Construct, he turned his attention to what must have been the source of it. Its point of origin. The broken window.

  It now led to a void of pure darkness. No, not completely pure. Infinitesimal silver threads had been woven through it: Moon Mana. Its presence was what had first alerted him to the fact he was within a dream.

  Perception 6 > 7.

  His affinity of 19 for Moon was minor at best, and he doubted he would have noticed it in the first place if the creator didn’t wish for him to.

  Tyr tilted his head to the side. Should he wait? Experiment with the Lesser Mindfiend? The hesitation lasted only a moment.

  No. He wanted to seize his own fate, even if he had to be a little bit gentle. He was a Pacifist, after all.

  His mind made up, Tyr approached the window. With a thought, he conjured a flight of stairs and ascended until he was kneeling before the portal into the void. It seemed to stretch on infinitely, reminding him of one of the times he had stared up at the vast night sky and experienced a sort of existential dread. The sense that he was looking upon something vast and unfathomable, the eternal cosmos, where he was only a speck of a speck of a speck in the grand scheme of affairs.

  “Lame.” Tyr sniffed.

  The sensation vanished. He was no longer staring into the void of the abyss. Now, it was a tunnel of darkness, and at the very end, there was a faint light. It glowed sickly purple. His attempt at casting [Identify] fizzled out.

  ?!?!

  Tyr considered the problem for a moment. In the end, it really wasn’t that complicated. He once more mapped out the foundation of the Dream Construct for the sake of redundancy: a spider’s web of ethereal purple filaments. In a way, it reminded him of the semi-solid lattice structure of Crystal mana. As if they were of the same family, or resonated with one another in some way.

  That gave him an idea. He just had to make his own construct out of mana, borrowing from what he had learned by example.

  First, Tyr looked back down at his hand. The spatial storage ring was there, though he couldn’t recall if it had been earlier. Regardless, he summoned his desired object into his hand, and it actually materialized within the Dream Realm.

  Whitewood Wand. A focus for Holy, Life, Solar, and Moon magic. A gift to Tyrus Hollan. Infuse internal mana or willpower to trigger the amplification effect.

  Definitely more information from [Identify] this time. Guess there’s a reason everyone takes it for their Perception Skill.

  Tyr directed his focus into the Wand. Immediately, swirls of gold, red, yellow, and pale silver flared within the Mana Core in his chest. More intriguing, the filaments of Moon energy within the void tunnel brightened as well.

  He reached out with his imagination and seized control of the Moon Mana in the background. For an instant, there was a sensation of bashing his head against another. Then it retreated, relinquishing control without much more than a cursory fight.

  I doubt I’m actually that strong, no matter how high my Affinities are. My Will is pathetic compared to theirs, even if they tried to hide the difference from me. Not as subtle as you think you are, but your power is beyond question. Let’s see who you are, then.

  Tyr pointed his wand out through the shattered window. At his mental command, the Moon Mana was drawn in his direction, spooling toward him like a series of fishing poles being reeled in.

  The energy began to coalesce at the tip of Tyr’s wand. At first, it was only a feeble speck. A second later, it was the size of his fist. A second later, his head. It kept growing and growing for over a minute, its size defying all sense. It shouldn’t have been possible for such a glowing mass to be contained within the narrowed void tunnel. A paradox of false dimensions. It grew as large as an actual moon; expanding, and expanding, and expanding.

  Alright…I’m starting to feel the strain now.

  Before he lost complete control of the energy, he unleashed it forward. A dazzling beam burst forth, consuming the void tunnel. It wove itself into lattices, into a reinforcing web, into fused beams. Taking inspiration from his study of Crystal's structure and the Dream Construct to bend it to his desire.

  The void tunnel was transformed into a corridor of glowing cosmic energy.

  At the end of it, that sickly lavender glow continued to shine.

  Tyr pulled himself through the window and into the corridor. A sense of irreality, of being lost within an illusion, struck him for a moment like a blow to the head. He stumbled, then reasserted control over the Dream Realm once more.

  A step forward. Another. He lost track of time, of space, and just kept walking forward, uncaring. No thoughts on what had transpired, or on what he had read, or anything in general. He just kept going until he reached the end of the corridor.

  [ General Skill Meditation (Common) is now available. ]

  [ General Skill Mana Manipulation (Uncommon) is now available. ]

  Mana Manipulation. Now that was a good one. According to the Compendium, it was one of those vaunted Uncommons where the Rarity masked its true utility. It was rated Uncommon because so many people had made the effort to acquire it, but the requirement for it to be available was considered more difficult than most of the Rares.

  Not too hard for me, though, Tyr thought, some of his usual arrogance leaking back into his mind.

  He stood before a massive portal of lavender energy. What had seemed tiny and feeble from a vast distance now towered over him with apocalyptic might. Fractures of clear and pale silver energy broke along the surface before the Broken Dream Mana consumed them once more.

  Tyr returned the Whitewood Wand into his spatial storage ring. Shrugging, he reached forward to touch the portal.

  A moment before his imaginary fingers brushed against it, the portal condensed. It was like watching a supernova pull back into a singularity. Then that singularity pulsed, burst open, stabilized into the silhouette of a person.

  This mysterious figure appeared to have been cut out of the nature of reality. The shape of a human, the appearance of a void. A straitjacket of lavender mana bound its arms in place, and a matching blindfold obscured whatever abyssal secrets were ensnared within its eyes. Long, trailing strands of void-hair flickered and shuddered behind it, slicing deep into the fabric of the Dream Realm.

  A sad, ancient, feminine voice drifted out from everywhere at once.

  “TYRUS HOLLAN. YOU HAVE PASSED MY FIRST TRIAL, BUT BE WARNED, THIS IS BUT THE BEGINNING OF THE INFINITE. BEHOLD ME. THE FALSE COSMOS TREMBLE BEFORE THE SUPREME DREAM MAGE—”

  Tyrus took a few steps forward and wrapped his arms around the enigmatic void-woman’s waist. “Hey! Is that you, GranGran?"