Part 2 - Once again, nightmares.

Chapter 0 - 20 Years

Shadows coiled and grappled onto me. It felt as if the darkness shackled me down; it was strangling, drowning me every moment as I toiled to break free.

I sprung up from my bed, soaked in sweat, breathing laboriously.

"I had that nightmare again..." I sighed heavily under my hastened breath.

Why does this nightmare keep haunting me... It's so annoying.

The door suddenly swung open, and a figure of a tall man emerged from the halls, my father. He stood at the doorway, leaning against it ever so slightly. He gently pulled his decently lengthy black hair back.

"Wake u- Oh you're up. Well, that's good. Get ready, school is going to start soon." my father said, before getting ready to leave.

"Dad- Wait-" I softly called out.

He turned to face me, raising his eyebrows and narrowly tilting his head; "Yes, Kiara?"

"Uhm... I had the same nightmare again..." I mumbled under my breath.

He approached me and sat on my bed. He reached for my short hair and caressed it gently. He let out a gentle, delicate sigh.

"It's only a nightmare, okay? Don't worry, I'm here with you," he said as he wrapped his arms around me in a warm, delicate hug.

"Get ready for school, okay? You'll be late if you don't hurry up, slowpoke." We shared a laugh before he left my room.

I lazily picked myself up to the bathroom to take a soothing warm shower. After the shower, I brushed my teeth feeling refreshed.

Now came the tedious routine. I rummaged through my extremely messy wardrobe, in search of a fit that'd suit my taste for today. It took me longer than necessary before my eyes finally landed on a set of clothes that sat right with me.

I put on a simple white cotton sweater, topped off with a sleeveless black hoodie embroidered with a fire symbol on the centre back. My pants, khaki in colour, were baggy but matched my taste perfectly.

With a brush, I curled my micro bangs and smoothened out the red stripes at the side of my hair. I checked the mirror, examining the back of my hair and clothes.

After an eternity, I grabbed my name tag, which had a mini photo of myself printed on the top-centre and my name in bold black lettering just below it: Oozomi Kiara.

I walked down the stairs and sat at the wooden dining table, invited in by the smell of a freshly made breakfast.

"Oh, you're here already? I'm almost done, hold on." My father said while facing the stove.

Moments later, he presented a plate adorned with golden toast and fluffy scrambled eggs, accompanied by a cup of warm water. Grateful for the breakfast, I dug into the delightful flavours and textures. Each bite, seasoned with a subtle hint of black pepper, salt and other spices, filled me with comfort and contentment.

After finishing my meal, I swiftly rose from my seat and began preparing for school. I slipped into a pair of crimson shoes, their jet-black soles and laces a gift bestowed upon me on my birthday, the twenty-fifth of January.

"Off to school now, Dad! See you later!" I called out hastily, the realisation of my tardiness prompting a sudden rush.

With my backpack slung over my shoulder, I dashed out the door, eager to embark on the day's adventures.

I barely reached on time. The chime of the school bell echoed throughout the halls as I approached my class. As I pushed open the classroom door, the bustling hum of students engaged in conversation filled the air. Among the sea of simple attire, my outfit stood out conspicuously, drawing a few lingering glances from my peers as I made my way to my designated seat.

First class is history huh? Well that's a pain. The teacher sauntered into the room, a book cradled lazily in his grasp, his demeanour exuding an air of lethargy. Clad entirely in somber hues of black, saved by the subdued touch of a bright red tie, his attire reflected the monotony of his demeanour. What you'd expect from a normal boring school teacher to wear, I guess.

"Good morning, class," droned the history teacher, his voice devoid of any semblance of enthusiasm.

"Today, we will be revisiting the events that happened 20 years ago. Aqueonos declared war on Scorchen. Our side would have been close to losing if it was not for the formerly known honorary knight. Everyone believed this knight to be a strong man, but during the war, it was a public revelation that the knight was a woman. Her name was Lyra, and because of her leadership, we emerged victorious. Uhhh... Oh yeah, and a group of infamous bandits were dissolved. If I'm not wrong, they were known as Pyrkagia? Anyways, I've read the given materials, and all I did was summarise everything, so make sure to go thro-."

A loud thump shook the school, interrupting his screed, causing me to jolt upright from my slouched position. The ground quivered beneath us, and the building itself seemed to tremble in response, sending waves of panic rippling through every students' body.

"Everybody calm down," the teacher's voice cut through the chaos, his tone as dull as ever. "The student council or the teachers will take care of the 'Masked Ones'."

I peered out the window, my heart pounding as I caught sight of the grotesque monstrosity that had descended upon our school. Its massive form loomed ominously, a dark silhouette against the backdrop of the schoolyard. Its size alone spanned a basketball court.

Its rib cage protruded from its chest, a macabre display of dormant organs beneath its leathery skin. Each hand bore three razor-sharp claws, with an additional human-like thumb intensifying its unsettling appearance. Jagged bones jutted out of its ankles, and its feet ended in clawed appendages reminiscent of a predatory beast.

But it was the creature's head that truly inspired terror. Atop its skull sat a gilded plate, adorned with a false face that only served to heighten its nightmarish visage. Beneath the facade, its eyes glinted with malice and glowed a rich crimson colour, hinting at the intelligence lurking behind its bestial facade.

With a deafening roar, the creature unleashed its full fury, its jaws unhinging to reveal rows of razor-sharp teeth capable of tearing through steel and stone alike. Its muscular form quivered with pent-up energy, poised to unleash devastation upon anything in its path.

Before the 'Masked One' could lunge in our direction, its head was swiftly separated from its body. A gust of wind followed the clean decapitation, and I watched in awe as a figure emerged on the beast's back.

The figure was a teenager, roughly my age, wielding a sword imbued with fiery magic. He stood tall and confident, his red eyes blazing with determination. Despite the chaos around us, a sense of calm and reassurance emanated from him.

His physique was impressive, with muscles honed from years of training, and his black and red hair framed his face, reaching down to his neck.

After a moment of silence, a loud cheer erupted in the class; "It's the fire prodigy!" "He's so cool!"