A few moments later, the door opened again. What immediately struck Nick was the frantic and troubled look on his friend's face. He immediately regained his composure and, despite his fatigue, got up and sat on the edge of his bed.

  Dante, on the other hand, pulled up a chair and sat across from him. Just as Nick was about to start with the usual pleasantries, Dante cut him off and began rambling incoherently, impossible to understand unless you spoke "Dante."

  After nearly ten minutes of nonstop talking, Nick finally managed to get a word in.

  — Morning to you too, dear friend, he said sarcastically.

  His friend didn't respond to the remark and kept staring at him.

  — So, if I understand correctly, you're really worried about what happened last night, is that right?

  — Exactly, he replied quickly.

  — And it's because you're afraid the defense forces will get involved?

  — Yes.

  — Because you want to get into the Sanctuary, and if you're caught, you'll lose your chance?

  Nick continued with the same question-answer tone.

  — Absolutely, he said shortly.

  After a moment of thought, which seemed so long to Dante that he stood up and started pacing, Nick said:

  — Calm down and sit down, would you? he said, making calming gestures with his hands.

  — And how do you want me to calm down? I remind you, it's my whole life on the line here!!

  He had raised his voice, which didn't sit well with Nick.

  — And how could this impact your entry into the Sanctuary? he asked sharply, clearly disapproving.

  — I... I don't know, Dante began, stammering. I could get arrested and...

  — Get arrested? And may I ask why?

  Dante looked at him, incredulous.

  — But you know why. For what we did to those three guys last night.

  — You mean when we defended ourselves? Nick asked, now back to his calm demeanor.

  Dante seemed confused for a moment. Now understanding his friend's point of view, Nick settled back into his sheets and looked him straight in the eye, a glimmer of fatherly affection in his gaze.

  — I think I get where you're coming from, he said. You're probably worried that, because we broke a few of their bones, we might get arrested for assault?

  Dante's face lit up. Nick had finally understood what he meant. He responded immediately:

  — Yes, exactly. And I can't take that risk…

  Nick interrupted him once again, with a wave of his hand.

  — I know, I know. You absolutely have to get into the Sanctuary, I get it. But let me reassure you, you won't get arrested, at least not for this.

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  Dante looked at him, confused.

  — You see, the three guys who attacked us are, obviously, criminals, probably well-known to the defense forces. They wouldn't risk getting arrested just to take us down. And even if they did, it would be self-defense.

  Dante's face regained some color. Immediately, Nick added:

  — Of course, that doesn't rule out the possibility that they might want revenge, which I actually find quite plausible. We'll have to stay on guard from now on.

  Dante thought for a moment, then, losing the frantic look he had when he entered, opened his mouth to say something, but immediately hesitated. Surprised by his gesture, Nick smiled faintly and added:

  — Of course, no mention of this possibility to the girls. As likely as it might be, it's still just a possibility. No need to worry them with it.

  Dante nodded slowly. He still had some reservations. Seeing the questioning look on his face, Nick hurried to reassure him:

  — Don't worry too much about it. If you run into trouble, we can always call for backup.

  He finished the sentence in a tone that he hoped sounded more upbeat than it actually was.

  Despite his friend's reassurance, Dante still wasn't entirely comforted. He decided to remain silent and see how things unfolded. After a short silence, Dante spoke again:

  — You know, I'm sorry about last night. I was angry, and I said things that...

  — No, stop, Nick cut him off. You were right. There were obviously more important things to think about, like the state of my sister. Instead, I lost my cool. It won't happen again, I promise.

  Having made an unspoken promise, Dante felt a weight lift off his shoulders. After that, Nick collapsed back into his bed and fell into a deep sleep.

  Dante slowly left the room and crossed paths with Scarlett, who was coming out of her room. Despite the shadows of last night clinging to her, she radiated beauty.

  Her skin glowed, cheeks blushed like dawn, and her graceful figure danced effortlessly with her style.

  Her face wore calmness, but fleeting memories tugged at her serenity. She flashed him a quick nod, then glided down the stairs to join her classmates, laughter echoing around her.

  Dante stood rooted, watching her vanish into the depths below. How could he not? He was utterly smitten. It felt strange, like a twist of fate, falling for his best friend's little sister.

  "Do you think Nick would be cool with me taking a shot at her?" he mused, heading for the door. At the bottom of the stairs, laughter bubbled up from the terrace. Apparently, Scarlett and her friends were having fun.

  It was as if the dreadful night of the previous day had never existed. Lost in thought as he made his way toward the door, he suddenly found himself face-to-face with Mr. Steele Sr., Nick's grandfather.

  What immediately stood out about him was his short stature and the messy gray hair on his head. He exuded a certain trustworthiness, and despite his age, you'd want to share all your secrets with him.

  Mr. Steele looked at him for a moment, staring directly into his eyes, which, unlike the action, caused no discomfort. Dante returned the gaze, although he felt awkward after a while. When he finally looked away, Mr. Steele Sr. stepped aside to let him pass, slowly whispering:

  "Take care of him."

  Those words struck him so deeply that he turned around, stunned, while the elderly man, well over eighty, went back into his living room. For a moment, Dante was shocked by the phrase, but eventually, he left the house, more anxious than ever.

  He had come to ease his worries, and instead, he left with more. He didn't bother to greet Grandma Steele, as he had already told her earlier that there was no need. He descended the front steps and made his way toward the massive gate of the large estate.

  Nick's family was well-known across the continent. Having close ties with many powerful organizations, they were one of the most important and influential families on Terra.

  They had greatly contributed to the social advancement of this small group of families, and today they were one of the main forces fighting against the "Rain," to which they were the principal contributors.

  The whole country, and even the continent, recognized Nick's family's role and the help they provided, which didn't exactly thrill him.

  With that thought, he gave a quick smile before leaving the property, relieved to have spoken with Nick and eased his worries.

  The next day, Nick was plagued by a migraine and fatigue that seemed to seep into his very bones, so much so that he couldn't go to school on Monday morning.

  The holidays were fast approaching, and although studies were not usually a priority during this period, he decided to focus on improving his grades in a few challenging subjects.

  Confined to his home, Nick used the time to study for these exams, determined to prove to himself that he still had control over something in his life.

  He might have been regarded as a nonchalant genius by the younger students, but only because they knew nothing about him or how hard he worked.

  After spending the entire Wednesday afternoon revising mathematics, he still couldn't make sense of it. Claiming he needed a break, he headed to the kitchen to grab a soda.

  Since morning, he had felt that something was off—a certain unease, coupled with his recurring migraines.

  He had been on medication for these for a few days and thought keeping his mind occupied would help, so he had started studying math.

  No sooner had he opened his soda than he was struck by violent dizziness.

  He dropped the can, spilling its contents across the floor. Staggering along the wall, he made his way to his room. Once there, he collapsed onto his bed, and that's when things took a serious turn.

  The pounding in his head seemed to come from another dimension, the sensation so intense and unbearable that he began to scream, clutching his head in his hands.

  It was, without a doubt, the worst episode he had experienced since they began.

  The ordeal lasted about ten minutes—ten utterly excruciating minutes—before the pain subsided, allowing him to calm down.

  He thought he was finally free of it, but upon opening his eyes, he immediately recognized what he saw: the ruined world from last time.

  This time, he felt neither fear nor pain—or perhaps he no longer perceived them after what he had just endured.

  His gaze wandered inquisitively around him, wondering what might have happened. He briefly examined his surroundings until his eyes fixed on a distant point to his left.

  Convinced that this world was nothing more than a figment of his imagination, perhaps a way to escape his pain during or after a crisis, he noticed something that struck him as familiar.

  Approaching it, his fingers grazing the wall of his room, he saw among the debris a brightly colored plaque.

  At first glance, it seemed to hold little value or significance as a landmark, but after some reflection, he realized what it was.

  He recalled standing there with the others in front of the massive building that seemed to draw everyone in, vividly remembering the sign that had struck him the most: the enormous banner at the entrance reading "Grandsberg Shopping Center."

  The realization sent shivers of terror down his spine. A thought crossed his mind—a thought he promptly dismissed.

  He continued to search among the debris and was forced to accept the truth: it was indeed the shopping center he had visited just days earlier with the others.

  This confirmation elicited a scream of terror. His bulging eyes left no room for doubt. The events, the situation—everything was slipping out of his control. No, this can't be possible. This cannot be, he repeated mechanically.

  This state of denial and rejection overcame him, and as he paced around aimlessly, the dizziness returned suddenly. He toppled over, hit his head on the arm of a chair, and passed out.