Darkness. That was the first thing Konrad saw when he opened his eyes. A thick, suffocating darkness, stretching endlessly in every direction. His thoughts were sluggish, his body weightless, his very existence unmoored. Then came the pain. A deep, all-consuming agony that burned through his very soul, as if he had been torn apart and crudely stitched back together.
And then—light.
Konrad gasped as his senses returned, his small body shuddering. He lay on a soft bed, blanket on the ground, the chill of it seeping into his skin. His breathing was ragged, his mind reeling with fragmented memories that didn't belong to him. Moments ago—no, in another life—he had been an ordinary person. A man from a peaceful world, one untouched by horrors.
But now, he was a child.
A child named Konrad of House Night.
The rush of unfamiliar memories nearly overwhelmed him. A noble bloodline. A clan of warriors who walked the path of the Night. The Dream Realm. The Nightmare Spell.
This is insane…
Konrad clutched his head, his small fingers trembling. He had read Shadow Slave before, he was a fan of the webnovel but experiencing it firsthand was something else entirely. This wasn't just a story anymore. It was his reality.
In this reality, death was always near. And death isn't the most horrible thing that could happen to someone.
"No! No! No! No! No!..... Why me?! Why me?! Why me?!... Why am I here!... What should I do?!... I don't want to die.... Die! Die! Die!... I'm gonna die! I'm gonna die."
He became hysterical and panicked. He had a mental break down. He went through severe existencial crisis.
Someone came into the room and placed a hand on his back. Konrad got spooked and quickly turned around.
"Did you see a nightmare child?" A warm voice asked. Konrad recognized the voice. Forcefully calmed himself and spoke in a shakey voice, "No... I mean..Yes! Yes, elder."
"Do not worry. Everything will be alright, child. Just go to sleep. Everything will be fine when you wake up." The warm voice said.
"Yes! I should go to sleep! When I wake will be alright! Everything will be fine." Konrad said as he relaxed himself and closed his eyes. Soon he was drifting into sleep.
A worried voice spoke, "Looks like the ritual was successful. But he has already seen a vision. May the dead God of Night have mercy on you child."
---
When Konrad woke up everything was not alright. He didn't went back to his previous world. This doomed world became his new reality. Now he is Konrad of House of Night.
At first, he resisted. He clung to his past self, he felt surreal, refusing to accept this brutal world. But time had a way of breaking down denial. Soon denial became acceptance.
Konrad was an orphan, his parents having perished when he was four. The memories of their faces were distant, faded echoes of warmth. They had left him behind in a world that did not pity the weak.
The only person who cared for him was the elder, a veteran warrior of House Night, master Olaf. A strict but fair man, the elder took it upon himself to raise Konrad—not as a child to be coddled, but as a warrior to be forged.
As Konrad accepted his new reality, he decided to become strong, to become strong enough that he doesn't need to fear anything. When Konrad turned six, his true education began.
He was not alone in his training. Alongside him were other scions of House Night, children who bore the blood of storm and the heavy expectations of House of Night. They're the next generation of House of Night. They trained together, fought together, and bled together. They became friends and rivals with each other.
Konrad, however, was different.
Unlike the others, he had knowledge—the foresight of what awaited them all. The Nightmare Spell, the Dream Realm, the horrors beyond the veil of reality. He knew the fate of those who were unprepared and those who weren't favoured by destiny.
He refused to be one of them. But he can't change fate. So, he will do the only thing he can do. He will change himself. He will not let himself rest until he knows no fear. He will become strong. Strong enough that he wouldn't fear anything.
While the other children learned at a natural pace, Konrad pushed himself relentlessly. Every lesson was absorbed with desperate intensity. Every sparring session was treated as life or death. He was not the strongest among them, nor the fastest, but his will was unmatched. He went from a normal Joe to a desperate and afraid junkie.
At night, while the others slept, he trained. He strengthened his body, honed his instincts, and repeated every technique until exhaustion claimed him. He refused to be weak. He refused to be another forgotten soul swallowed by the Nightmare spell.
Master Olaf watched him silently, offering neither praise nor scorn. Only lessons. Only guidance. And slowly, Konrad changed. His body grew stronger, his mind sharper. He became a fighter—not yet a true warrior, but no longer a helpless child.
But no amount of training could prepare him for what came next.
---
Konrad had always known this moment would come. But not this soon... He was only twelve... He was merely twelve years old. Where others got infected at eighteen, he got infected at the age of only twelve.
He had watched others undergo the Nightmare Spell, their bodies trembling as relentless slumber consumed them, their souls dragged into the Dream Realm. Some awoke stronger. Others… never woke at all and in their place woke something else.
But knowing and experiencing were two different things.
At twelve years old, the infection came for him.
It started as a normal insomnia. But a wrongness that coiled inside him. Then, the fever. It burned through him, turning his world into a haze of surreality and delirium. Shadows moved in the corners of his vision, whispering things he couldn't understand.
Panic gripped him. He had trained for years, preparing for this trial, yet fear clawed at him all the same. He wasn't ready. He didn't want to die.
A strong, calloused hand rested on his shoulder.
Master Olaf sat beside him, his expression unreadable. There was no fear in his gaze, only patience. Understanding.
"Breathe, child," he said. "The fear will not help you. Let it pass."
Konrad tried. He forced himself to take slow, shuddering breaths, but the terror remained.
"I—I don't want to die," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper.
The elder's fingers tightened ever so slightly. "No one wants to."
Tears burned at the edges of Konrad's eyes. He wanted to be strong. He wanted to be brave. He tried to become brave... He really tried. But when the moment of reckoning came he was afraid, terrified.
As the foreboding grip of slumber tighten, Konrad realized he was weak, afraid and powerless. Neither he is strong nor he is brave.
No matter he much he wanted to deny it, but in this moment, he was just a mundane powerless boy, alone in the face of something far greater than himself.
Master Olaf stayed beside him, silent and steady. A lone, unmoving pillar in the storm.
"Elder, please tell me realistically what are possibilities of my survival?" Konrad asked with a wiry smile.
The old master sighed as he said, "Not high. But I will wait beside you. Either I welcome your successful return or slay the monster you will become."
"Don't die... My old bones can't really handle more kin slaying."
"It seems like I will become a monster." Konrad said as he laughed.
"You know I am really indignant. I should have six more years. It isn't fair."
"The world isn't fair. If you're indignant, then bend the world to your will and make it listen to your indignation." Master Olaf said.
As the darkness pulled Konrad under, he uttered one last sentence, "I wish I were never born in this world."
Master Olaf sighed again as he made one last statement before he also closed his eyes to rest,
"Another boy goes to their trial. Now either they wake up as man or a monster would awaken in their stead."
Then, Konrad's world shattered as he drowned in the abyss of his slumber.