Chapter 3: Dream and Interrogation
Nie Shi had a dream.
He stood on a street drowned in shadow, the kind where silence had a shape. The air was dry, but the pavement glistened, reflecting a sky the color of ash. Dust floated like mist. The buildings leaned in, as if listening.
He looked down.
The black spear lay at his feet.
Its surface gleamed, cold and smooth. Familiar. Too familiar.
Etched near the base were the same words he'd seen before: Only by returning the memory can you survive. But this time, he wasn't alone.
Screams echoed somewhere behind him—dozens, maybe hundreds. The sky flickered like a broken screen. Something wet splashed onto his face.
He looked up.
A figure in a black cloak lay crumpled nearby, blood pooling beneath them. And standing at the center of it all… was someone with his face. Same clothes. Same body. Same weapon.
But the expression was different. Cold. Hollow.
The copy turned its head and looked at him. "Do you remember me?" The voice came from everywhere and nowhere. Hollow. Cold.
He opened his mouth.
Nothing came out. "You took what wasn't yours." Suddenly the world twisted—like a video being rewound in reverse—and pain stabbed into his chest, ripping him away from the dream. Nie Shi jerked awake.
His heart thundered in his chest. Sweat soaked his back. The infirmary lights felt too white, too sharp. A nurse passed by without glancing at him.
But the dream still clung to him. Too real. Too vivid.
He stared at the ceiling.
That wasn't just a dream.
That was a memory.
Not his. But someone's.
A beep sounded near the wall monitor. He turned his head and read the display: [Non-user memory fluctuation detected] [Upload to Memory Review System?] [Source: Break-Class Armament] He closed his eyes.
Of course it was. Thirty minutes later, he was escorted to the Memory Review Department —the one place students hoped never to visit.
It was buried beneath the academy's core. A fortress of white lights and thick steel walls, where people wore silence like armor.
No one smiled here. No one blinked too much. Everyone walked like they were afraid to wake something up.
He was led into a round chamber, cold and sterile. A single metal chair waited in the center, surrounded by scanners and projectors.
"Sit," came a woman's voice.
She stepped forward—black coat, silver earpiece, hair pulled back into a severe knot. Her eyes scanned him like lasers.
"I'm Lin Yi. Memory Inspector, Tier Two."
Nie Shi sat without question.
She paced around him like a machine booting up.
"You're aware your Armament is unregistered and classified as Break-Class?"
"Yes."
"You're aware it synced with you during sleep and caused a system-wide fluctuation?"
"…Yes."
"You're aware," she paused, voice lower, "that contact with foreign memory fragments may lead to long-term identity collapse?"
This time, he didn't answer.
She stared at him, then sighed. "You're not the first to interact with an anomaly," she said. "But you're the first one to survive full binding."
She lifted her hand.
A projection screen hummed to life.
It showed a shaky recording: blood, smoke, screaming.
And then—him.
Or someone who looked just like him, standing in the center of it all. Same posture. Same weapon.
"This memory isn't yours," Lin Yi said. "But it passed through you."
Nie Shi's throat felt dry. "So… what does that make me?"
She met his gaze.
"You're not the owner. You're the receiver."
He stared at the projection.
The other version of him didn't flinch. Didn't move.
Just stood there—like he'd been waiting.
"The spear found you," Lin Yi said. "And if it found you, it means it was looking."
"That doesn't make sense," he said. "It's just a weapon."
"Is it?" she asked.
A silence followed.
Then she pulled something from her pocket—a slim, dark chip—and handed it to him.
"This is a sync recorder. You'll wear it 24/7."
"It monitors neural feedback, memory drift, subconscious intrusion. If it flares, you report to us immediately."
"If you want to survive, you'll have to learn how to make that spear obey."
Nie Shi took the chip. It pulsed faintly against his palm. Warm. Alive.
He swallowed. "And if I can't?"
Lin Yi's expression didn't change.
"Then we'll have no choice but to neutralize both of you." He was dismissed with no further explanation.
Walking down the corridor back toward the dorms, he felt like everyone was watching him—even when no one was there.
The sync chip clipped to his collar like a parasite.
His thoughts buzzed like static.
He didn't even notice the figure leaning against the wall until a voice said—
"So you're the new cursed one."
Nie Shi stopped.
A boy stood casually by the lockers. About his age. Lean frame. Hair sharp. Training jacket slung over one shoulder. His eyes were sharp—too sharp for someone smiling.
"Name's Lu Jingxing," he said. "Top of Trace-Class."
He gave a mock salute.
"You don't look like much. But I guess freak weapons don't care about that."
Nie Shi said nothing.
"Don't worry," Lu said. "I'm not here to fight."
He stepped closer, smirk sharpening.
"Yet."
Then he walked off, hands in his pockets. Nie Shi stood still, breath steadying.
His fingers brushed the chip on his chest.
His mind flashed back to the dream.
To the voice. The street. The blood. The other him.
The spear had chosen him.
But that didn't mean he understood it.
It held memory.
It held power.
It held danger.
And now—
It held him .