BREW

"Now for the nightmares themselves."

Nightmare Levels:

Level 1 – 1–3 digit energy, Level 1 danger

Level 2 – 4–5 digits, Level 2 danger

Level 3 – 6–7 digits, Level 3 danger

Level 4 – 8 digits and above

Level 5 – 9 digits

Level 6 – 10 digits

War Level – 11–12 digits

Ruler Level (Theoretical) – 13+ digits

The level of nightmare is the overall assessment of energy level, danger level and killing pattern. But once it reach 8 digist energy, even with just raw power it can kill billions

"Even a Level 1 can wipe out a team if underestimated. A Level 4 is a walking extinction event."

Alex paused, his tone more somber. "The worst recorded nightmare to breach the real world was Level 4. There are few but the latest example is 'COVID.' It wasn't a virus—it was a nightmare attack. Billions died before we could isolate and kill it."

Tuesday swallowed hard.

"Next are cursed items. There are two types: materialized and abstract."

"Your cup is a materialized, bound-type. That means only you can wield it—and it likely formed directly from the nightmare that handed it to you."

"How strong is it?"

"We don't know," Alex admitted. "We couldn't test it. But cursed items store the grief, rage, and essence of their source nightmare. The more intense the nightmare, the stronger the item. To obtain cursed Item, you have to kill a nightmare"

"So… the way I get it is a rare occurrence"

"Pretty much. And you didn't find it. It chose you." Alex said "Well pretty everything about what happen to you is rare occurrence"

Tuesday gripped the cup tighter.

"We may wield power but being lucids expose us to great dangers. Let me be clear—even our strongest today, the Oracle-level Lucids,The international leader and pope can only fight Level 4 nightmares. Not easily. Not win. Just fight."

Tuesday stared, wide-eyed.

Alex continued, "So imagine what lies above that—Level 5, Level 6, War Class, and Ruler types. We've only encountered hints. Traces. Some anomalies resist measurement entirely." He paused, as if weighing whether to continue.

"There are reports… of entire dreamscapes collapsing. Whole cities swallowed. With no survivors, no explanations, and no readings. We don't know if those were War Class or something worse."

Tuesday's grip tightened on the coffee cup.

"And we're supposed to fight those?"

Alex gave a crooked smile.

"No. We delay them. Contain them. Document them. If we're lucky."

Back into reality, Valen, after buying the ingredients he planned to sell in the afternoon, went straight toward Sauyo Town. The entire perimeter was sealed off. Yellow barricades, military trucks, and heavily armed police marked the borders. Entry was strictly forbidden—no exceptions.

He stood across the street behind a row of closed stores, his arms crossed, lips pressed in frustration.

"I won't find anything if it's like this," Valen muttered. He scanned the perimeter and noticed how rigid the guards stood—not just typical law enforcement. Their uniforms bore faint symbols—circles and lines glowing like pulse marks under their collars. Glyphs, though he didn't recognize them as such yet.

His mind clicked to another option: his old high school adviser. Someone who worked directly in Sauyo. Maybe he could give answers.

Valen hurried to the nearest public telephone booth—a dusty, half-cracked red box standing lonely outside a convenience store. He slipped in a coin with a dramatic sigh.

"Goodbye to my extra money… haysssss," he groaned, then dialed the number he still remembered by heart.

The call connected.

"Hello?"

"Sir JR Rosana? It's me, Valen. From Sauyo Integrated. You taught me… remember?"

There was a long pause.

"I—uh, I know your name, yeah, Valen, but… taught you?" JR Rosana's voice grew puzzled. "I've been unemployed for eight years, kid. I haven't worked since I left Manila."

Valen froze.

"What? Sir, you worked in Sauyo. You were my adviser. Grade 12—STEM, remember? You gave me detention for breaking a burner in chem lab—"

"I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about. I really don't."

Valen's grip on the phone tightened.

Something's wrong.

There was no static, no interference. It wasn't memory loss—it was removal.

He ended the call in a daze, slowly stepping out of the booth. His eyes trailed back toward the sealed road, the motionless police, the surreal emptiness behind them.

"This doesn't make sense… there's no way my adviser forgot he worked there," Valen said under his breath. "This... this must be connected to that glowing-hand officer I saw during the child swing incident."

A cold pit settled in his stomach.

It wasn't just the town that vanished.

It was the reality tied to it.

Though unease crawled in his chest, Valen reminded himself he was still free, unbound, unnoticed. Or so he believed.

His connection to Sauyo may have been scrubbed, but his memory remained intact—for now.

Although Valen was scared and unsettled by what happened in Sauyo Town, he didn't think he had any real connection to it. Not directly.

Or at least, that's what he believed.

Still, the Dreamworld (he still called it Alter World, since no one had corrected him yet) held the only chance he had for answers—and safety.

"If I want to be safe in the real world… I have to become strong over there."

A decision settled in him—not as a hero's vow, but as a survivor's logic in the world that's becoming dangerous.