Miguel was sound asleep on his bed, but deep in his mind, he found himself standing in a surreal place-an infinite sky of pure light above and a black, glassy floor beneath his feet.
In front of him stood a man with spiky white hair and a calm, composed expression. He wore a long, navy-blue coat with intricate silver embroidery inspired by traditional Eastern patterns-elegant and precise, just like him. The coat had sharp shoulders, a high collar, and a split tail at the back for movement. Inside, it was lined with bright blue silk that flashed with every shift. Underneath, he wore a simple black tunic and slim-fit trousers that allowed for quick movement. Knee-high black leather boots with silver accents and refined black gloves completed the look. At his hip rested an odachi-a black blade with a silver guard and hilt.
The man looked like nobility crossed with death.
"Welcome, Miguel," he said calmly. "I'm Vergil. Not your father. Not your brother. But we share the same blood-by mistake. That doesn't mean we aren't connected."
He stepped closer, voice steady and absolute.
"I'm not from this world, and I have no business here... except you. So, I'll share something precious: my fighting style-or as it's known here, a Legacy Aspect. It's up to you to develop it. You don't cherish anyone, and no one cherishes you... for now. But that'll change. And when it does, you'll want the strength to protect them."
He paused, then added with a hint of weight, "I'll give you the means to reach that strength. Whether you take it or waste it is on you. One last piece of advice-you're both human and demon. Accept both sides. Balance them. Only then will you reach your true power."
With that, Vergil drew the odachi from his side and offered it to Miguel.
Miguel couldn't speak here-his voice didn't exist in this place-but he accepted the weapon without hesitation.
The Spell whispered in his mind:
[You have received an Aspect Legacy: Dark Slayer Dance.]
Miguel focused on his runes. A new description appeared.
Dark Slayer Dance
Every move is a dance. Every dance is a deadly cut. The nonchalant Dark Slayer, who cherishes no one and is cherished by none, is fated to perform this deadly dance whenever he enters battle.
"This is the first and last time we'll meet," Vergil said. A silver odachi materialized in his hand. "So let me show you what this power can become."
Miguel barely had time to react.
Vergil vanished.
Space and time cracked like glass, sliced apart by an invisible blade. The pressure alone forced Miguel awake.
He jolted upright in bed, heart racing, sweat clinging to his forehead. The dream-or whatever it was-had faded. But something had changed.
The Spell whispered again:
Memory: Yamato
Rank: Dormant
Type: Weapon
Description: This odachi once belonged to the greatest swordsman in the world. The blade grows stronger alongside its user.
Miguel felt his chest tighten with excitement. He summoned the memory, and in his hand appeared a sheathed odachi. It clipped neatly to his left hip. His body moved instinctively, filled with knowledge on how to wield it, courtesy of his attribute...
But something felt off. The movements weren't quite right. The rhythm was wrong.
Then it hit him-he remembered Vergil again.
One clean slash from the white-haired swordsman, and the faulty techniques were obliterated. Miguel heard his voice, distant but clear:
"There's no shortcut to power... but since I had a head start, I'll give you a little help."
Another message lit up in Miguel's mind:
[One of your Attributes is evolving...]
Miguel grinned. "Yes!"
[Your Attribute: Saint Sword has evolved into Dark Slayer.]
Dark Slayer
A long-extinct race. You are the last of them. The only one alive who can perform the Dark Slayer Dance.
Miguel blinked at the message. "Why the hell am I getting so many buffs? Am I some kind of chosen one or what?"
Silence.
Of course, no one answered.
He rolled his eyes. "Figures."
Still, he was too fired up to let that question bother him. With a focused breath, he activated his dormant ability again. This time, his body blurred like a mirage-and he reappeared two meters ahead.
Not his limit. Not even close.
He smirked. "Yeah... the future might not be so shitty after all. Can't wait to see what I'll be like once I'm Awakened."
Later that morning, Miguel stood in the middle of a dusty clearing, now part of the Wilderness Survival class. Next to him was Sunny, who'd also signed up following Master Jet's advice.
Their instructor- Teacher Julius -addressed the class.
"Welcome, rookies. Today, you'll be learning a lot of crap: how to purify water, scale cliffs, read runes, all that good stuff. It'll save your lives, or it won't. Depends on whether you listen."
The class was grueling, but essential. Miguel and Sunny pushed themselves, memorizing every detail. Their lives literally depended on it.
Seconds turned to minutes.
Minutes to hours.
Hours to days.
Days to weeks.
Just like that, four weeks passed.
Miguel didn't waste a single one. By day, he studied and trained in survival. By night, he honed his swordsmanship, perfecting the deadly dance Vergil had given him. He didn't allow himself rest. The Spell wouldn't stop hunting him, so he wouldn't stop preparing.
The Solstice was just a day away.
He felt ready.
Thanks to his Attribute, there was a chance he'd get thrown into a brutal region of the Dream Realm-a place where he'd either grow fast or die faster.
His mastery of Yamato had improved to the point where he theoretically could fight Nephis-Academy's top student, the girl who had earned a True Name in her first Nightmare.
But "theoretically" was a dangerous word. He had never actually fought her-and, frankly, he hoped he never had to.
He didn't want to face Sunny, either. Not anymore. Not after everything they'd been through.
They both came from the same broken place, scarred by the past, but they had survived.
Sunny fought because he hated being underestimated.
Miguel fought because he refused to be powerless again-especially when the day came that someone he cherished needed protection.
And that day would come.
He could feel it.