Where our corrupted dreams sprout

"Ah, that was good," Myrille sighed, leaning back slightly as she placed her hands over her stomach. Her contented expression betrayed her slight overindulgence. Still, her ego made her lift her chin a little higher. She knew her cooking skills were impeccable, and neither of the young men had offered a single complaint.

Her gaze shifted to the sky, where the midday sun shone brightly amidst scattered clouds, interrupted occasionally by birds lazily drifting across the expanse. For a fleeting moment, everything felt serene. A slice of calm she wished could last forever.

Ceryn seemed to share her thoughts, his gaze distant and melancholic as he stared into the heavens, his emerald eyes reflecting the sunlight like fractured gems. Asher, in stark contrast, was uncharacteristically quiet. His usually mischievous features were replaced by an unusual seriousness, his brows furrowed in thought.

The trio sat in silence, each lost in their own world, until the abrupt ringing of the school bell shattered the moment. Break time was over, and the call of afternoon classes loomed.

"Well, we should get going," Ceryn said, standing up and brushing the dust from his trousers. He extended a hand to Myrille, helping her up with his usual nonchalance. She smoothed her skirt, adjusting her appearance as she prepared to leave. Asher, however, stood without much ceremony, too lazy to bother with the dust clinging to his clothes.

"Ouch! What the hell!" Asher yelped as Ceryn grabbed his ear and yanked it sharply.

"Don't be rude. Myrille fed us. Ladies first, you uncultured ruffian," Ceryn said, his tone half-mocking, half-serious. Myrille giggled, hiding her smile behind her hand before offering a playful curtsy.

"Why, thank you, kind sir," she said, gliding toward the door with an exaggerated elegance. The two boys followed behind her—Ceryn calm and composed, while Asher grumbled under his breath, rubbing his ear.

Myrille took a detour towards the staff room while the boys continued forward. They had made it halfway back to class when Ceryn suddenly stopped mid-step.

"Hm? What's wrong? Did you forget something?" Asher asked, turning to face him.

Ceryn's body remained rigid, his expression frozen. Then, like a tidal wave, it hit him.

Blood. Rivers of it. The screams of the dying. Piles of mangled bodies stretching endlessly, their faces contorted in agony. The visions looped in his mind, vivid and relentless. He saw students and teachers being ripped apart, their deaths horrific and senseless. Then, the ground beneath him vanished, and he was falling.

The endless sea of blood below grew closer, and above him loomed a darkness so oppressive it seemed alive. From within it emerged a massive, grotesque grin—jagged teeth forming a chaotic maw. Hollow, spinning eyes stared down at him, each reflecting pure madness.

The creature mouthed a word—a voiceless whisper that echoed like thunder in his mind.

"Chaos."

Ceryn gasped as his consciousness was yanked back to reality. His pupils dilated, and a cold sweat dripped down his temple. Panic washed over his face.

"Asher! Get Myrille and head back to the rooftop! Now!" he barked, his voice sharp and commanding. Before Asher could question him, Ceryn bolted in the opposite direction, his urgency undeniable.

Asher frowned, but the uncharacteristic alarm in Ceryn's voice spurred him into action. Rushing towards the staff room with urgency.

---

Ceryn raced down the hallway, his footsteps echoing like gunshots in the otherwise quiet building. Teachers, security guards, and students alike turned their heads at the sight of him sprinting, his face etched with desperation.

He barreled down a flight of stairs, nearly tripping as he reached the bottom, and made a sharp turn toward a locked door at the end of the hall. Without slowing, he threw his full weight into it, slamming into the wooden barrier with the force of a battering ram. The door shattered off its hinges, splinters flying as Ceryn stumbled into the media room.

Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, he scrambled to his feet and lunged for the PA system. Flicking the switch, he pressed the microphone to his lips and spoke, his voice booming through every speaker in the school.

"Everyone present in this building—head to the rooftop immediately! Those outside, get to higher ground! This is not a drill. This is an emergency!"

His announcement echoed through every hallway, every classroom, every corner of the campus.

---

"Which brat is pulling another prank?" a male teacher muttered irritably, standing at the front of his classroom. He sighed, rubbing his temples. "That's the fourth false alarm this week."

His students chuckled at his frustration.

"Stay put and study the pages I've assigned. I'll deal with this and be back in a—"

He never finished his sentence.

In an instant, something massive and impossibly fast crashed through the door, striking him with enough force to tear his head clean off his shoulders. Blood sprayed across the walls as his decapitated body staggered briefly before collapsing to the floor.

The classroom fell into an eerie silence. The students stared, their eyes wide and unblinking, their minds struggling to process what they had just witnessed.

Then, a single scream pierced the air.

Panic erupted. Students surged toward the door, their terror fueling their desperation to escape. But similar scenes unfolded throughout the building. Massive walls materialized out of nowhere, slamming into doors and corridors, trapping or crushing anyone in their path.

---

Ceryn's voice came through the speakers again: "I repeat—everyone head—"

A sudden crash interrupted him as a wall materialized in front of him, obliterating the microphone and much of the equipment. He leapt backward, narrowly avoiding being flattened.

"This does not bode well!" he hissed, darting out of the media room.

The hallways were pandemonium. Screams echoed as students ran in every direction, their faces twisted in terror. Bodies were impaled, crushed, or trapped as walls appeared at random, their sudden existence turning the school into a slaughterhouse.

Ceryn ducked as another wall slammed down in front of him, crushing a student who had been running beside him. The sight of her lifeless body made his stomach churn, but he pushed forward. Reaching the rooftop was his only chance.

He darted into a classroom and headed straight for the window, throwing it open and climbing out. The irrigation pipes lining the building became his makeshift ladder as he scaled the wall with speed and precision.

The ground quaked, and another wall shot toward him. He twisted his body just in time, but the sharp edge grazed his side, slicing into his ribs. He gritted his teeth, muffling a scream as pain flared across his torso.

With one final push, he reached the slanted edge of the rooftop, his hands gripping it desperately. But his grip faltered, his fingers slipping.

"Asher! A little help!" he shouted as he began to fall.

"Got you," Asher grunted, his hand shooting out and grabbing Ceryn's wrist. He strained, pulling him up with every ounce of strength he had. Ceryn scrambled onto the rooftop, collapsing in exhaustion, his body trembling from the ordeal.

Myrille stumbled toward them, her face pale, her dress spattered with blood. She clutched her skirt tightly, her trembling hands betraying the terror that had taken hold of her. Around them, the screams from below faded, replaced by an eerie, oppressive silence.

Fewer than thirty students stood on the rooftop. A school that had once housed nearly two thousand was now reduced to double digits.

Above them, the sun dimmed, its golden rays replaced by an ominous blood-red hue.