Narrated by Joseph Renlanton

  I woke up in the morning, once again. My brothers were already up, but their beds were unmade.

  I ignored it and went straight to the bathroom to wash my face.

  When I looked into the mirror, I saw him again — the same man with white hair.

  I smashed the mirror with my bare hand, and the glass shards exploded into the air. Each fragment reflected his image.

  Suddenly, the bathroom started shaking. Giant hands burst through the walls, trying to crush me.

  I stopped them with electricity.

  But I knew it was just a dream. I let go of my power, allowing the hands to crush me.

  Everything froze. Then, everything blurred.

  The scene melted into whiteness again.

  There he was — the white-haired man — standing in front of me, moving closer and closer.

  I didn’t move. I didn’t care. It wasn’t real.

  He passed through me, as if I were a ghost.

  Then, turning his head slowly toward me, he whispered:

  “You won. But you will lose again.”

  I woke up.

  It was the second time I’d dreamed of him. But like I said — we all have strange dreams.

  Still, this one felt… different.

  I went to wash my face — and the mirror was shattered.

  Rushing to the kitchen, I found my brothers eating breakfast like always.

  I sat down and asked,

  “Do you guys know who broke the bathroom mirror?”

  Nikolai looked me in the eyes and said,

  “What do you mean? You did.”

  Confused, I grabbed a glass of water to calm myself.

  But the taste — it was off.

  I looked into the glass.

  The water was deep red.

  Blood.

  I dropped the glass, startled, and turned to my brothers.

  They looked normal…

  But their faces were splattered with blood.

  I looked at my hands.

  They had mouths screaming,

  “You filthy bastard! Filthy bastard!”

  I ran to the bedroom, searching for any reflection.

  In the mirror, my face was covered in crying eyes.

  I pulled a knife from my boot and stabbed myself.

  I had to wake up.

  And I did.

  This time, the mirror was okay. The beds were neatly made.

  In the kitchen, the clock was ticking normally, and my brothers were calmly having breakfast.

  I joined them. Everything seemed peaceful.

  We were on vacation, but had already finished all the good games.

  Only trashy ones were left. This may sound stupid, but we cared about games more than this city.

  So we gathered around the planning table, thinking about what to do next.

  The suggestions were... useless.

  Then Dwayne stood up and said,

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  “Why don’t we go find the Sword That Cuts Time?”

  I laughed.

  “Sure, let’s go to a monster-infested zone to grab a legendary weapon. Sounds amazing!”

  Everyone stood from their seats.

  “It’s settled! We’re stealing Arito’s sword — the one that cuts time!”

  We packed our gear and climbed onto our dragon’s back.

  No one noticed our armored car missing.

  And dragons fly too high to be seen above the clouds, so no one would know we were going to that place.

  Our dragon Jojo — she’s the cute one — lived just under ten kilometers away, in the nearby forest. We could summon her pretty fast.

  Once we arrived, we dismounted and grabbed our weapons.

  Jojo flew away.

  We walked toward the castle that housed the sword.

  Oddly, the path was completely safe — no monsters, no demons, not even wild animals.

  Too safe. Suspiciously safe.

  Jason got there first and saw the castle.

  It looked half-destroyed, barely standing.

  He laughed out loud and yelled,

  “Hey Dwayne, it’s your pride about to collapse!”

  Dwayne slumped to the ground, sadness written across his face.

  “I’m sorry… I’m just so useless…” (I’m sure he was just kidding.)

  I approached him, patting his shoulder.

  “Don’t be sad. It’s just a joke. You don’t have any pride to lose in the first place.”

  Jason and I burst into laughter.

  Dwayne stood, clenching his fists.

  “Apologize.”

  I stared him dead in the eyes.

  “Over my dead body.”

  He summoned a demon army.

  Not strong, but massive.

  No big deal.

  I made twin swords of lightning and wiped them all out in a single slash.

  Then I grabbed Edwin with an electric hand.

  “Just because you’re the older brother doesn’t mean you’re stronger than me.”

  He looked at me. We both cracked up laughing.

  I let him go.

  We continued inside the castle.

  There, we saw a skeleton clutching a sword.

  Nikolai stepped forward and grabbed it.

  But the skeleton came to life, snatching the sword back, and ran toward us wildly.

  It wasn’t thinking — just swinging blindly. The kind of thing anyone would expect from a dead skeleton.

  Nikolai jumped on its back and started smashing its skull, but it didn’t flinch.

  I made an electric hand, grabbed it, and crushed its bones to powder.

  We picked up the sword and went home.

  Back at the table, we placed the sword down and played rock-paper-scissors to decide who’d travel to the future to bring back new games and gear.

  No one won.

  No one volunteered.

  So I did.

  I took the sword, pulled it from its sheath, and slashed the air — just like in video games. And it worked.

  A rift opened.

  I stepped through.

  I had no idea what year it was.

  The portal dropped me into a burning house.

  I ignored it, walked into a store, bought the latest consoles and games, and returned — no battles, no monsters.

  We stayed up for three days straight playing those incredible games.

  I finally passed out on the console.

  I couldn’t stay awake any longer.

  Chapter 3, narrated by Joseph Renlanton