The space was the same one Code had seen before: an infinite blood-red sea illuminated by a crimson moon hanging low and heavy in the sky.

  “Ugh…” Code groaned, squinting as he slowly sat up. He blinked several times, taking in his surroundings. “It’s this place again?” he muttered, then glanced down at the sea.

  “What the—?!” His heart lurched as he stared at his own reflection.

  The face looking back was his—perfectly identical in every feature—except it was smiling when Code wasn’t. The hair was deep blood-red, the eyes pure scarlet with pitch-black pupils, and an inverted cross tattoo rested starkly on the forehead.

  ‘What’s this?’ Code thought.

  The instant the question formed in his mind, it echoed aloud as a voice—his own voice—rippling across the surface of the sea.

  A cold, wet laugh answered from the reflection. “Kekeke.”

  The sound was everywhere and nowhere: absent yet present, loud yet quiet, echoing yet perfectly still.

  Code’s breath caught in his throat.

  “How humble of me,” the reflection muttered. “I should be the one looking down on you.”

  The sea’s surface shuddered. Ripples raced outward, growing violent until the water erupted in a towering fountain directly in front of him.

  Code jerked backward, eyes wide.

  The fountain reshaped itself mid-air, coalescing into the exact same figure he had just seen in the reflection. It floated above the sea now, staring straight into Code’s eyes for a long, silent moment.

  Then it straightened, raised a hand to its chin, and murmured, “Hmm… looks like the time has not come yet…”

  The figure turned away. Its body immediately began to liquefy, collapsing back into the crimson sea in slow, glistening streams until nothing remained but faint ripples spreading outward.

  Code stayed frozen, staring at the spot where it had been, the echo of that cold laughter still lingering in his ears.

  “Ahh!” He gasped as his eyes snapped open. “Arrgh... arrgh...” His breathing turned ragged while his gaze darted about. “What the hell was that dream?” he whispered.

  The street was busy; narrow roads full of honking taxis and scooters. Bright neon signs in different symbols glowed above small hotels and food stalls. Pink, blue, and green lights reflected on the wet road. Steam drifted from manhole covers, mixing with the greasy scent of fried chicken and exhaust.

  A car zoomed past him as he looked up sharply.

  “Where am I?” he muttered. He glanced left, quickly noticing his reflection staring back at him from the mirrored glass walls of a tall, cylindrical motel. Huge pink-and-purple tubing spelled out "LOVE MOTEL" in cursives above the entrance, the letters buzzing and blinking.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  'What am I doing in front of a motel?!' he asked himself. Before he could gather his thoughts, a voice jolted him.

  “Oi, stop moving around or we’re gonna fall.”

  Code looked down and froze, realizing he was being carried. “V-Van Ackerman?” he blurted.

  “Yeah, that’s me,” Van replied casually. “Since you’re awake now, I guess you can walk on your own.” He suddenly let go, dropping Code to the ground.

  “Ouch!” Code yelped in pain.

  “Arrgh, how are you slim and heavy at the same time?” Van asked, stretching his back.

  “That’s kinda insulting, y’know,” Code snapped, rising and dusting off his trousers.

  “Good grief, don’t I deserve appreciation after carrying you all the way here?” Van said as he walked off.

  “Thank you?” Code muttered sourly as he followed. “That should be my line after blasting my left arm away.”

  “What left arm?” Van asked, glancing at him.

  “You bastard!” Code barked. “We both know it regenerated!”

  “Sheesh,” Van sighed.

  “Thinking about it, where even is this place? Doesn’t look familiar,” Code said.

  “Stop asking questions,” Van replied flatly.

  'Tch,' Code clicked his tongue. ‘This asshole. Is he actually Van Ackerman?’ he wondered.

  “Here we are,” Van announced, stopping before the towering skyscraper.

  The WORLD ASSOCIATION OF SORCERERS' HEADQUARTERS, AZURA loomed thirty stories into the evening sky. Its entire fa?ade was an obsidian-tinted glass that swallowed the surrounding city glow. At street level the building sat behind a wide moat-like reflecting pool, its surface perfectly still despite the wind.

  “Where?” Code muttered, looking up to read the inscription. “Wh-what are we doing here?” he stammered and stepped back. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to report me to W.A.S.”

  “What are you talking about?” Van said. “I’d prefer selling you to traffickers than doing that.” He waved dismissively and walked away.

  ‘This motherfucker,’ Code thought, jaw tightening as he followed.

  They crossed the short bridge over the reflecting pool. The moment their feet touched the other side, the ambient city noise immediately hushed.

  The automatic doors parted with a soft sigh, as a deep chime rang through the air.

  “Welcome,” a cold, detached voice said.

  “Liora,” Van greeted, removing his mask.

  “Woah,” Code murmured, looking around.

  The lobby stretched wide with floors of polished black marble. Red velvet curtains framed towering windows that looked out onto the city. Opposite the entrance sat a circular reception desk, buried beneath a heap of folders, letters, and scrolls. Behind it sat a single high-backed chair.

  Liora—the woman behind the stacks—looked up, eyes widening behind round lenses as she recognized Van. “Van Ackerman,” she said in shock, sitting up straight.

  Her hair was a bright blue, and a smattering of freckles scattered across her cheeks. She wore thin, round-framed glasses that magnified her tired, weary eyes.

  “Heyo,” Van replied with a casual wave. “Code, this is Liora, the receptionist. She handles our missions and raids.”

  “H-Hi, n-nice to meet you,” Liora stammered, her voice a strange mix of tiredness and surprise.

  “Hey,” Code said and waved.

  “Where are they?” Van asked.

  “They just left not long ago,” Liora replied.

  “I see.” Van nodded and turned to Code. “Let’s go.”

  “O-okay,” Code said, following him as they disappeared into a room to the right.

  Once they were gone, Liora exhaled heavily, cheeks flushing. “Van Ackerman... wasn't expecting him,” she whispered and went back to writing.

  ...

  “What’s with that woman?” Code asked, as their footsteps echoed through the hallway; wide, dimly lit, walls of glass set with inner light bulbs that cast a bright white glow.

  “Can’t blame her,” Van said. “She saw Van Ackerman. That’s a privilege.”

  “Tch tch,” Code scoffed.

  “I think it’s this room,” Van said, stopping at a door as he opened it.

  Code hurried closer, his curiosity rising.

  The room was engulfed in total darkness, swallowing any light from the hall.

  They stepped inside.

  “Woah, why’s it so dark?” Code said.

  Only the hallway’s light seeped in.

  “You don’t have long,” Van said as he turned toward the door.

  “Eh? Where are you going?”

  Van didn’t answer. He simply stepped out and said, “Survive," then shut the door behind him.

  “What?!” Code shouted.

  A crimson glow filled the room, revealing the terrain around him.

  His eyes widened as he realized the chamber was a dungeon, stretching endlessly in every direction.

  And worse: “SHRIEK!”

  Code snapped toward the sound.

  Demons filled the space before him. Hordes of them.