Krauss dreamt of a peaceful era.
The sky was painted in soft pastels, warm hues of orange and gold that melted into the horizon like honey. The air was crisp, carrying the gentle rustle of wind brushing through tall grass. Children laughed somewhere nearby, their footsteps pattering against sunlit cobblestone streets.
In this place, the buildings were old but full of life. Flower pots hung from every window, spilling color onto balconies where elders sat sipping tea and chatting with soft voices. Dogs barked in the distance. Bells chimed faintly from a nearby clocktower. The world was intact.
He was sitting under a tree in a quiet park that reminded him vaguely of the place outside the MDCC building, but cleaner, brighter. A woman's voice called his name from behind.
It was eerily familiar yet bewitchingly warm and calming.
"Krauss…"
He turned.
There was a figure standing beneath the branches, a silhouette bathed in the golden glow. He couldn't make out the face, but something about her presence made his chest ache. Like he had known her. Like he had lost her.
But as he reached out—
The sky cracked.
The golden hues darkened into ash-gray, like watercolor smeared by a shaking hand. The laughter died. The world trembled as the air grew heavy, thick with the stench of ozone and blood. A siren wailed. The buildings began to rot before his eyes, flowers withering in their pots and windows shattered.
He looked back at the woman, but she was gone.
All that remained was the tree, now stripped of leaves, its trunk blackened and split.
Suddenly, the landscape shifted in an abrupt manner. Krauss now stood before a mountain.
Jagged and solitary, it loomed above all others in the range, carving into the night sky with blade-like peaks. A radiant moon hung overhead, bathing the slopes in a ghostly, silver light.
On one side of the mountain, the remnants of an ancient road clung stubbornly to the rocks. Weathered stone slabs peeked through patches of snow, their outlines barely visible. To the right of the path, a sheer cliff wall rose like a fortress. To the left, an abyss yawned open, revealing an endless sea of nothingness that seemed to devour light. The wind howled across the slope, crashing into the rock again and again.
Then, the moon plummeted below the horizon.
The sun rose — from the west — traced a blazing arc across the sky, and vanished into the east. Time lurched. Snowflakes rose from the earth, drifting backward into the clouds above. Krauss watched as the world rewound.
He was witnessing time flow in reverse.
Centuries passed in seconds. The snow melted, retreating across the stone. The ancient road reemerged in full, and with it came a chilling sight, scattered human bones, half-buried in the frost.
Cold dread coiled in his chest.
Then, just as suddenly, the bones faded, consumed by the tide of time. The mountain breathed again and the scenery shifted once more.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Each time, Krauss was thrust into a new landscape, with a different story unfolding around him. The transitions were seamless, almost dreamlike, yet the weight of each vision pressed heavier on his mind.
It happened so many times, he lost count.
At this point, his head throbbed with such intensity that he feared it might burst.
... Until it stopped.
This time, he found himself standing in the heart of an ancient city.
Not ruins, a living city, which was vibrant and bustling, but strange in architecture and atmosphere. Towering spires loomed overhead, carved with symbols he didn't recognize, glowing faintly with a bluish inner light. The streets were wide and paved with obsidian stone, polished smooth by countless footsteps. The people, if they could be called thatz moved in flowing robes, their faces obscured by pale masks. No one spoke. The silence was total, eerie in its stillness.
Solace felt like an intruder.
Reluctantly, he wandered forward. The masked citizens parted around him in an unnaturally synchronized manner, like they were a single organism bound by invisible strings.
And then he heard chanting.
The rhythmic words echoed through the city, reverberating against the walls, drawing him forward.
He followed the sound into a great amphitheater carved into the mountainside. Thousands stood in absolute stillness, all masked, all facing a colossal statue in the center. A towering, many-armed silhouette with a blindfolded face and a cracked crown. Its hands held multiple relics of unknown design: one a "mirror," another a "blade," another a "withered flower," and the last, an "empty cradle."
As Krauss stepped into the arena, the statue's head slowly turned toward him.
The chanting stopped.
All masked figures pivoted in unison, staring directly at him.
Finally, there was a voice that came in the form of a whisper; almost like someone was standing right next to him, whispering it into his ear.
[Oh, I welcome and greet the mighty Master of the Sunless Shores, Lord Morpheus, to the Dreaming.]
Kraussblinked.
'What, the Dreaming...?'
The earth shuddered.
Cracks split the ground beneath his feet. Seconds later, black fluid surged from the gaps and began to rise. The masked people turned to ash and the sky above bled crimson.
The statue collapsed inward.
And Krauss fell, spiraling down into the depths.
Next came the feeling of water. The surrounding space was dominated by complete darkness but the sensation of drowning and falling was overwhelming. Krauss felt like his lungs were tightening as if the ocean was crushing him in an endless descent.
Then, something appeared.
Countless, lidless eyes opened within the dark, blinking without rhythm, without reason. Some were human. Some were not. They watched him with neither malice nor mercy, only awareness. Krauss wanted to scream, but no sound came out. He couldn't move or even breathe. His body hung suspended, bare and small beneath their alien gaze.
[Open your... EYES!]
BAM!
In an instant, as soon as Krauss concentrated and forced his eyes open, the suffocating pressure vanished, along with the dreadful sensation of drowning.
But what replaced it was no less strange.
A hazy gray fog clouded his vision — vague, formless, and endless.
"W-What is this…?"
Dazed by the shifting sensations, Krauss glanced around in confusion. Then, looking down, he realized he was suspended at the edge of an infinite ocean of fog.
It flowed like liquid, thick and weightless and within it, seven massive stars shimmered in the distance.
Each star pulsed with a distinct color and aura. They were overpowering yet elusive. They were radiant yet subdued. Despite their size and presence, they carried a strange familiarity like watching a group of teenage girls.
Drawn by an odd mixture of curiosity and instinct, Krauss reached out his right hand toward the closest star; distant, yet somehow within reach.
The moment his fingertips grazed its surface, a strange symbol, like a water mark, flared to life across his skin and resonated with his soul.
Then, without warning, the stars erupted in a colossal burst of dreamlike flame.
In that blinding instant, his spirit was consumed and then scattered like ash into light.
† †
In the United Kingdom, Europe, England, Redgrave. Inside a technologically advanced mirrored building at the royal district.
Within its fortified interior, Subject S-076, also known as Mantis, sat in her high-security cell. Her long, messy hair — naturally pink — reached down to her hips. She wore the standard orange prison uniform issued to criminals, along with a black mechanical collar fastened tightly around her neck. The collar was crafted using anti-mania crystals, serving both as a suppressor for her abilities and a disciplinary device that delivered painful shocks when triggered.
Everyone knew of the Mania Disease Crisis Control — or MDCC — the elite organization responsible for managing rogue Minuses. But their role extended beyond containment. They were also the ones who disciplined, monitored, and, when necessary, eliminated the Maniacs who had lost their minds and transformed into Hollows.
No rogue Minuses had ever escaped from the facility. This was a known fact.
Unfortunately and much to the Chief's dismay, Most of the Minuses working under the MDCC were former criminals.
Step! Step!
The sound of footsteps echoed through the corridor as shadows stretched across the sterile walls. Two guards appeared in front of her cell, opened it, and spoke in a cold, emotionless voice:
"Minus S-076, you've been summoned for analysis duties."
Mantis slowly raised her head and stared at the guards. Clicking her tongue in displeasure, she rose to her feet.
"Geez, can't a girl catch a break around here? And do you have to sound like soulless robots every time?"
As usual, her sarcasm was met with silence. The guards didn't react. They were already used to her antics. Mantis was known for her unruly personality, even among the Minuses.
"Tsk. You jerks are so lame. Unbelievable…"
Grumbling under her breath, she stepped out of the cell. The guards flanked her wordlessly, escorting her toward the monitoring office.
They passed through multiple secured blocks, rows of reinforced box-like cells. Inside were fellow Minuses, some even more unhinged than she was. The infected facility was mostly located underground, hidden away from the public eye, while the non-Minus departments of the MDCC operated above ground.
Minutes later, after passing a few heavily armed soldiers stationed at key checkpoints, they arrived at the designated office.
Inside, several MDCC officials moved in an organized manner. Among them stood a tall, slender man exuding a calm and composed presence.
His skin was pale, and his striking light gray eyes held a sharp, contemplative glint. His hair, a dark slate blue, was tousled in a layered cut that framed his face and reached just past his ears. A single distinctive strand fell over his left eye, adding an air of quiet mystery to his look.
He wears a dark outfit consisting of a black dress shirt tucked neatly into high-waisted gray trousers, paired with polished black boots. Over this, he has a light gray coat draped elegantly over his shoulders like a cape. Clipped to his chest were a badge and ID card, clearly marking his authority within the MDCC.
[Name: Victor Vale]
[Rank: Chief's Adjutant]
Mantis clicked her tongue the moment she saw him.
"Ugh. You again."
Her voice cut through the sterile air like a dull blade. Victor paused what he was doing, then turned toward her with a faint smile.
It was a genuine smile.
Perhaps that's what made her feel worse. And much to her dismay, Victor approached her casually, with one hand tucked into his coat pockets.
"Good afternoon, Mantis. How are you today?"
She replied without missing a beat.
"I feel like shit."
Victor tilted his head slightly, as if genuinely intrigued. "Oh? And why is that?"
"Because of you."
He let out a quiet sigh, though the smile never left his face.
"So... you just wanted to be lazy?"
"Of course," Mantis said shamelessly. "What's wrong with that? I turned myself in to avoid work and stressful things. And yet here I am, still working. Isn't that just ridiculous?"
Victor frowned then said:
"Mantis, do I need to remind you what you did before you turned yourself in?"
The words hit like a switch.
Instantly, Mantis went silent.
The two guards who had escorted her exchanged puzzled glances. Just like that, her sarcasm evaporated. Though her record was under the classified category, they couldn't help but wonder what could someone like her have done to warrant that kind of reaction?
'As expected of the Vice-Chief,' they thought in unison.
Noticing the tension on her face, Victor cleared his throat and quickly shifted the topic.
"In any case, your assistance is required."
Mantis raised an eyebrow.
"With what?"
Victor answered smoothly, as if discussing a routine errand.
"We need your help to mentally analyze an Infected."