The sound of blue and black rays intertwining inside the small room made every particle vibrate — furniture shook slightly, dust suspended in the air trembling as if space itself was being distorted.
The rays penetrated two distinct points near the table. When they dissipated abruptly, Nemor was standing in front of the table — clothes torn in several spots, stains of dried blood stuck to the fabric. Hana was there too, trembling so violently she seemed to be having a seizure. Terror consumed her completely, eyes wide fixed on nothing, breathing coming in irregular spasms.
When the second ray also dissipated in blinding flash, Yuna reappeared in the center of the table. Her red dress too large for her small body swayed from the residual vibration of the air. But there was something wrong. Something that shouldn't be there.
When Nemor looked away from Hana and faced Yuna, he saw what she held in her right arm.
An arm.
Gray. Cut at elbow height. The cut end didn't bleed profusely — just dripped. Drop by drop of black and viscous liquid falling onto the wooden table, staining it.
Sleepless arm.
Nemor widened his eyes intensely as he processed that. She ripped off a sleepless's arm in the nightmare.
Hana's heart beat so fast it reverberated in her eardrums — muffled sound of uneven drum.
Nemor moved one step toward Yuna. His half-torn clothes moved with the movement, revealing superficial scratches on the skin underneath.
He said with controlled voice but carrying urgency:
"You... are... staining the floor!"
Yuna just lowered her head, focusing on the arm she held as if it were a curious toy. Didn't show disgust. Just... childish interest.
Then a voice came from upstairs — sound of footsteps descending creaking stairs.
Mr. Yeager's voice echoed, full of paternal excitement:
"Hey, champ! Just wait, I'm coming, okay?"
Nemor then shouted loud so the voice would reach the second floor:
"OKAY!"
Without hesitation, he grabbed the same sleepless arm that Yuna held — texture was strange, too cold, skin rough like fine sandpaper. Pulled it from the little girl's hand. She let go without resisting.
He opened the house door quickly, crossed to where they deposited trash. Placed the arm there among plastic bags that exhaled sour smell. Returned immediately.
When he came back in, Mr. Yeager was already in the room. Still stared at Yuna and Hana with admiration shining in his moist eyes.
"You're such great friends to my son!" Voice loaded with genuine emotion. "Feel at home. The house is yours."
Hana still terrified tried to maintain composure — but muscles trembled uncontrollably, betraying any attempt to appear calm.
Mrs. Wan came down to the room at that moment. Looked at the table. Frowned seeing the black liquid stains spreading slowly across the wooden surface.
"What is this?"
Nemor responded quickly, words coming out stumbling:
"Ah, it's nothing! I just spilled a lot of... trash. When I went out to throw away what you told me to."
He held his own hair while speaking, nervous gesture he couldn't hide.
Mrs. Wan paid attention to his clothes — torn in multiple spots, stains that looked like dried blood. Opened her mouth to ask something.
But Hana rose brutally from the chair before she could. Still trembling, said with breaking voice:
"I... need... to go home."
Mr. Yeager blinked, surprised:
"So soon?"
Nemor quickly interfered:
"You're right, it's late already."
Meanwhile, Yuna was just staring at her own dress, squeezing the fabric between small fingers. Nodded agreeing to leave too, without saying a word.
The three rose simultaneously.
Mr. Yeager said to Nemor with serious but affectionate tone:
"Okay, son. But make sure you accompany them closer to their homes."
Mrs. Wan agreed with nod of head.
Then Mr. Yeager stuck his hand in his pocket, pulling out crumpled money bills — sweat from field work still wet on the paper. Extended them to Nemor:
"Don't you dare refuse. It's for your taxi back."
Nemor took a deep breath — wanted to refuse, pride burning in his chest. But couldn't. Received the bills carefully.
When they turned their backs and left through the door, Mr. Yeager waved at them. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks, wide smile on his face even while crying.
---
When they left the house, they walked down the street under dim light from posts that occasionally flickered. Yuna just followed from behind without saying anything, small but constant steps.
Hana was tense — every muscle contracted, shoulders raised to her ears. Horror of what she had just witnessed still processing in stunned mind.
Nemor walked in front. Flashes invaded his mind without warning. That nightmare. Feeling his heart being pierced — sensation of cold blade going through vital muscle, heartbeats faltering before stopping. Feeling the moment when his body was controlled by a completely new entity, female voice coming from his mouth.
Sun's words echoed in his mind like broken bell:
"You're protecting the girl who can finally exterminate the nightmare."
The voice reverberated deeply, each syllable carrying weight of accusation.
When the flashes were abruptly broken by Yuna's word:
"Mister, can you call a taxi for me?"
Childish voice but carrying something more serious underneath.
"I need to go back. He must be waiting for me."
Nemor just stared at her — those large and innocent eyes that hid incomprehensible power.
"Okay, sure."
He waved at one of the passing taxis. The old vehicle stopped with screech of worn brakes. Yuna without even saying thank you headed to the taxi.
She opened the door — abrupt movement for such a small child. Then stared at Hana directly, piercing eyes fixing on hers. Said with voice loaded with promise:
"Next time... I'll take you with me. I'm going to get very strong."
Without saying anything else, she slammed the door. The taxi accelerated, taillights disappearing around the corner.
Hana felt a chill run down her spine hearing those words. It wasn't an empty threat. It was absolute certainty.
When Yuna was finally gone, she turned brutally to Nemor. Muscles still trembling, but anger beginning to overcome fear. Said with rising voice:
"Tell me! What kind of things are you?!"
Pause to breathe.
"Why are people after me?!"
Didn't let Nemor respond. Asked another question, words coming out in cascade:
"And what was that when you all disappeared?!"
They were on that simple street — modest houses aligned, street not very busy, just occasional sound of dog barking in the distance.
He approached three steps to Hana. Said with calm voice but carrying weight:
"I can't say exactly what they want from you."
Pause.
"But they believe you are..."
Sasha's voice echoed urgent in his mind:
"Sir, it would be best not to inform her!"
Nemor didn't care. Continued:
"Extermination. They say you are the Extermination."
Hana didn't understand anything about that word. Sounded too big, too heavy. Swallowed hard — throat scraping painfully.
"And... what does that mean?"
Nemor then said:
"I don't know exactly." Brutal honesty. "But they won't stop until they take you with them."
Stared deep into her eyes — those eyes that trembled with dread but still sought answers. Said:
"About what we are..."
Pause.
"We're called intos."
Hana with trembling voice asked:
"And what does that mean?"
"For now I can only say that an into is every human being with powers."
Hana tried to move to another question. Mouth opening to form words.
But at that instant, the phone vibrated in her pants pocket. Mechanical sound breaking tension.
When she looked at the bright screen, she saw a message. Number saved as "Mom."
The message said:
"Come home. Don't forget, today is the day to visit your father."
When she finished reading, she looked at Nemor:
"I need to go home."
Nemor pulled his own phone from his pocket. Said, stuttering slightly — having fear of finishing but forcing himself to advance:
"Keep my contact."
Pause while fingers typed.
"If you happen to feel someone is following..." Voice became more serious. "Anything that seems suspicious... just call me."
Another pause.
"And I'll come to you."
He tried to fit words so it wouldn't sound too strange. But he knew it sounded exactly like that.
Hana still confused, processing too much information in too short a time, just took the contact with trembling arms. Saved it quickly.
Soon she called for a taxi without waving or saying anything. Entered. Taxi advanced, taking her away.
Nemor took a deep breath — cold night air filling lungs.
Then, walking, he left the street.
---
He arrived back home. Climbed creaking stairs avoiding steps that made more noise. Went to his room. When he closed the door — old lock clicking into place — his voice so serious echoed through the small space:
"Appear."
At that instant, the air vibrated intensely behind him. His back took rays — golden and red intertwining like serpents of pure light. When they suddenly disappeared...
From his back, Sasha appeared. Golden and red wings unfolding majestically, almost touching the low ceiling of the room.
Beside her, another figure materialized.
A tall woman — taller than Sasha by a few centimeters. Red crosses glowed in the center of each eye like living embers. Long hair fell in cascade — half golden like liquid gold, half red like fresh blood. Long dress that blended the same colors covered slender body.
When Nemor turned to them, without hesitation, the woman fell to her knees.
Muffled sound of knees hitting wooden floor.
"Sir, do you wish for me to do something?"
Voice was the same as the one that came from his mouth in the nightmare — full of sickly excitement, almost maniacal.
Meanwhile, Sasha bowed respectfully before standing up again. Formal posture, hands crossed in front.
Nemor didn't respond immediately. Took slow steps to his bed. Sat down — mattress sinking under weight. His eyes were serious, processing. Said:
"Sasha."
Hadn't even finished speaking when she promptly responded:
"Yes, sir!"
Nemor continued while the woman remained on her knees, looking up with disturbing adoration:
"You told me that when I reset... I automatically created her." Pause. "What did you mean by that? I don't remember creating anyone."
The kneeling woman said excitedly, voice rising:
"My most powerful creator! If you wish, I can explain everything to you!"
She licked her lips between words.
Nemor said, trying to maintain neutral tone:
"It's okay. Sasha will tell me."
Flashes of that infinite white space invaded his mind while speaking — red and golden threads floating, impossible scissors in his hands.
Sasha continued:
"Of course, sir. Let me explain."
Pause while organizing words.
"When you reset for the first time... you created me." Voice maintaining formal, educational tone. "You shouldn't remember because your body performed the process automatically."
Another pause.
"The second time, you created her."
She pointed discreetly to the kneeling woman.
"My assessment..." She hesitated briefly before continuing. "Your interior is like a womb waiting for level progression."
Nemor widened his eyebrows. Didn't understand anything. Said:
"What are you talking about?"
Sasha said, trying to simplify:
"Putting it in simpler form..." Deliberate pause. "A pregnant woman's womb lasts at least nine months until the child's birth."
Let that settle for a second.
"Comparing to you... level progression is like your months' time."
The room became silent. Everything seemed to stop in Nemor's world. Just sound of breaths — three pairs of lungs filling and emptying.
Until the kneeling woman broke that silence:
"I'm sorry to bother you, sir..." She looked at Sasha with something close to envy. "But I noticed that she has a name received from you."
Voice rose slightly, almost like childish tantrum:
"That's so unfair! Give me one! I need one, my lord!"
Nemor with that total panic consuming thoughts — heart beating fast with terrible information he had just processed — just stuttered first thing that came to mind:
"Ni... cia."
The woman squeezed her own body tightly. Fingers sinking into flesh through the dress. Licking her lips slowly:
"I'm feeling..." Voice coming out in trance. "Your love for me... it's good."
Pause while savoring that.
"Nicia. I loved this name." Smile widened. "Much better than Sasha."
She said that in complete trance, swaying slightly as if drunk.
Nemor looked at Sasha — completely ignoring Nicia. Said:
"Can you repeat what you said?"
Sasha then continued even with that extreme noise of Nicia obsessively murmuring her own new name:
"Summarizing what I just said..."
Long pause. Heavy. Loaded with devastating meaning.
"Whenever you reach level one hundred..."
Silence.
"You'll reset." Let that weigh. "And a new deity will manifest."
The words hung suspended in the air like sword hanging by thread.
Nemor processed slowly. Each word. Each implication.
Every level one hundred, he reset.
And created a new deity.
Automatically.
Without control.
He looked at Sasha. Then at Nicia who still murmured her own name in ecstasy.
Two deities already.
How many more would come?
***END OF CHAPTER 13***