Chapter 212

Chapter 212: Chapter 212

The Next Morning

Satou’s eyes opened slowly, consciousness returning like a gentle tide rather than the violent shock of his previous awakening. The room was dark save for the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the window, painting everything in shades of silver and shadow.

He was home. In his bed. Safe.

The familiar weight on his chest told him he wasn’t alone. Lyra was curled against his right side, her head resting on his shoulder, one arm draped possessively across his torso. Jessica mirrored her on his left, her breathing deep and even, her face peaceful in sleep.

Satou smiled despite himself, feeling warmth spread through his chest at the sight of them. They looked so peaceful. So alive. So beautifully, wonderfully real.

Then the memories hit him like a physical blow.

Jessica’s screams as the living walls consumed her, flesh pulling her apart piece by piece while he stood frozen, unable to help.

Lyra’s disappointed face as she died in his arms for the thousandth time, her last words always the same: "You failed us."

Both of them burning alive in the settlement fire, reaching for him, begging him to save them while he watched helplessly.

Their corpses impaled on spikes, eyes vacant, mouths moving to accuse him even in death.

The smile vanished from Satou’s face, replaced by something colder. Harder. His jaw clenched involuntarily, hands curling into fists beneath the blankets. The rage he’d felt upon first waking—that cold, absolute fury at Merc Assault—came flooding back with renewed intensity.

Hours of watching the two people he loved most die in every conceivable way. Six hours of psychological torture designed to break him completely. Six hours of having his love weaponized against him.

"I will kill him, " Satou whispered to the darkness, his voice barely audible. "Should have taken everything instead of letting him escape with even fragments remaining."

But dwelling on that wouldn’t help. What was done was done. Now he needed to move forward, needed to do something productive with this rage before it consumed him from the inside.

Training. Yes. He needed to test the abilities he’d gained from the nightmare realm, needed to see what consuming Merc Assault’s essence had actually given him. And more than that, he needed to blow off steam before this fury made him do something stupid.

Carefully, moving with the enhanced control his various abilities provided, Satou began extracting himself from the bed. Jessica’s arm was easy—he simply lifted it gently and placed it on the pillow where his chest had been. She mumbled something unintelligible in her sleep but didn’t wake.

Lyra’s arm was more challenging, even in sleep, had a surprisingly firm grip. Her fingers were tangled in his shirt, her arm heavy with complete relaxation. Satou worked slowly, patiently trying to pry her fingers loose without—

"Where are you going?"

Satou froze. Lyra’s voice was thick with sleep but unmistakably awake. Her golden eyes blinked open slowly, focusing on him with that analytical sharpness that never quite disappeared even when she was exhausted.

"Lyra," Satou said, caught. "I was just—"

"Sneaking out without telling us," Lyra finished, her voice gaining clarity as wakefulness took hold. She pushed herself up slightly, her grip on his shirt tightening rather than loosening. "In the middle of the night. After sleeping for twelve hours following a traumatic experience. That’s very responsible, Satou."

The sarcasm was gentle but pointed. Satou had the grace to look sheepish. "I couldn’t sleep anymore. Too much energy. I thought I’d head to the training grounds, test out some of the abilities I gained, maybe work off some of this..." He paused, searching for the right word.

"Rage?" Lyra supplied quietly. "The fury at what Merc Assault did to you? The anger that I can see in your eyes right now, even in the dark?"

Satou’s expression shifted, the careful neutrality he’d been maintaining cracking slightly. "Is it that obvious?"

"To me? Always." Lyra sat up fully now, the blankets pooling around her waist. Her hand moved from his shirt to his face, cupping his cheek gently. "Satou, what you experienced in that dream realm... what Merc Assault did to you... that’s not something you just get over by training for a few hours."

"I know that," Satou replied, his voice tighter than he intended. "But I can’t just lie here. Every time I close my eyes, I see—" He cut himself off, jaw clenching again.

"You see us dying," Lyra finished for him, understanding clear in her voice. "Over and over. In every possible way. While being completely helpless to stop it."

Satou’s silence was answer enough.

Lyra’s expression softened, and suddenly she wasn’t the analytical administrator but simply someone who loved him and hurt for him. She pulled him into a tight embrace, her arms wrapping around him with surprising strength for someone her size.

"Satou, listen to me," she said firmly, her face pressed against his shoulder. "Everything you saw in that dream wasn’t real. None of it. Morgana explained everything to us while you were unconscious. She told us about Merc Assault’s torture methods—how he weaponizes love and protective instincts by creating endless scenarios of loved ones dying. It’s designed to break even the strongest minds."

"I know it wasn’t real," Satou said quietly, his own arms coming up to return the embrace. "Intellectually, I know that. But the memories feel real. The emotions feel real. The—"

"The trauma is real," Lyra interrupted gently. "Even if the events weren’t, what you experienced—what you felt—that’s all real. And that’s okay. You’re allowed to be affected by this. You’re allowed to be angry."

She pulled back slightly to look at him directly, her golden eyes serious. "But you’re not allowed to deal with it alone. We’re here for you. Both of us. Everyone in this settlement is here for you. You don’t have to carry this by yourself."

Satou felt something in his chest loosen slightly at her words. "Thank you," he managed.

Lyra’s expression became more complicated—concern mixing with determination. "And Seraphine... she was worried about you too. Before she left, she made me promise to tell you something when you woke up."

"She left?" Satou felt an unexpected pang of disappointment.