“Have you been nervous when you've done this?” William pretended he was fine and changed the subject as he descended the steep, cascading staircase. It wasn't the fancy kind, like in the library made of wood. This was old, made of metal, and creaking from rust or loose nails.

  “I was. Then, I wasn't. I couldn't be.” Mi-Yung stated, knowing that no one here could eavesdrop on them, unlike the previous halls.

  “That doesn't help.”

  “I am not trying to paint a very pretty picture with it, or try to help you too much,” Mi-Yung said, smiling.

  “Yeah. More stairs. That's great!” William looked for more complaints and walked down better than up.

  The stairs went deeper than he thought, and in less than a minute, he reached the end. There was a long, narrow corridor that resembled a tunnel. It was dim, with a bright light at the end.

  There was a man in a military uniform, acting like a watchdog.

  “Token,” he said, straight to the point.

  William had been clenching his token for hours, so letting it go wasn't very comfortable, but he still turned it over. The man checked its authenticity and worked fast.

  He had a monitor as well and pushed multiple buttons aside on the wall. William didn't see the monitor's content. It was for the list and updates regarding the Awakening and visitors. There was a lot of management in this two-per-year event that couldn't grow. Two a year was already a lot for the Federation, or to Tom Hough, the one behind this nonsense.

  “Alright. It is authentic. Proxy is present, so will you come? Do you...” The man-sized Mi-Yung for the first time and shuddered in his hands and saluted. “Excuse me, madam.“

  “Dismissed, soldier.” Mi-Yung smiled and let him do his job.

  “Enter, but before that, there is a warning procedure that is mandatory. Hear it: the Awakening is harsh, so be aware of pain and nausea, and fainting isn't rare. Blood will drop, and Emblem will turn into something new. The following room is big, and beware of mirrors. Are you ready and aware of it, young man?” The man spoke with an unyielding tone that was borderline harsh, or half reassuring for William, who was used to it.

  Maybe it calmed him more than his trembling heart or twitching hand. His voice wasn't very calming, and he didn't catch the strained undertone that was caused by Mi-Yung's presence. Normally, such hints were not suitable.

  “I am ready," William said, trying to copy this man's firm voice. He didn't even know how to sound like it, so his nervousness was more apparent in his body than in his voice or face. The man saw it anyway, and it went without saying that consolation wasn't a part of this work.

  “Good. Luck isn't there. Grip your hand instead and firm up your spirit.” The man put his token aside and gestured to the tunnel. There were faint lights to the side, with the tunnel's end looking very bright, which was kind of ironic.

  This was rather different from William's expectations. He found no issue with the relative darkness and walked forward with steady steps. Soon, he reached the bright light, revealing an expected sight that was still distant from his mind.

  Mi-Yung told him a lot of things about this room and the progress of the Awakening. Seeing it with his own eyes was different.

  The size was less of a shock. A strange machine and a robust chair for him to sit in weren't anything insane either. Having seen the picture he shouldn't have, he felt a natural reluctance to go there because the surroundings had a lingering energy he of knew was there.

  Then he observed the place, or to be more specific, the walls and the ground. There were wild cuts on the concrete floor, aimed at those aforementioned mirrors lining the wall facing the chair. William looked at them and wondered who had done the damage to the ground. He noticed big metallic rods in the cut concrete; some were in pieces, or lying around the bunker. Nobody bothered with cleaning.

  A thin layer of shadows emerged from the darkness, lashing against the dim light in certain sections. It should be dark, and it indeed was, but he still somewhat saw what was around. The history was already there, and it was heavy and significant, and thousands of youths stood there, in his very spot, going wild and broke.

  Those big cuts were the wildest, and weren't alone. There were smaller cuts, holes, or even cracks all over the place, with some even having elemental features, or wounds reaching for the ceiling or forward.

  “I have no thoughts. I am not afraid. I am going to rest in that chair.” William mumbled to himself, trying to use a self-inflicted charm to walk forward.

  He failed.

  “What is stopping me?”

  He didn't feel like anything. Anyone.

  Mi-Yung didn't hold him back either when she stood behind him, observing him and looking at those mirrors.

  “What are you waiting for?” She asked him.

  “Wind?” William said in fleeting weakness and forgot her altogether. Then, he walked forward as if he was stepping over blood and his past, stepping over some colorful cracks, thin to wide cuts, crevices, and approached that hideous chair. William no longer questioned monsters, beasts, or what lay behind the mirror that showed him his steps, body, and face. He questioned himself more because he didn't feel like walking, yet he walked anyway and did it quite easily.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  He looked at that mirror and saw himself. Then, nerves started, yet his steps did not. Hesitation was something that Mi-Yung described.

  He won't run.

  William wondered if he should sit or wait for that old, madman-looking scientist to do his job, because he was not very far. Hough was aside, overlooking machines and ignoring William, who tried to greet him, but his words left no impression whatsoever, like with most other hosts.

  For Hough, kids were kids, and he long found great, interesting seeds. As for Host 130When he noticed the surname Gale, he hesitated for half a second and recalled words from Second Head and his boss in name alone. Rey was more like his equal, even if their differences were like heaven and earth in prudent terms, or logic. Then not so much with the rest.

  “Hm, young man? Unfold whatever Emblem you have, sit on that chair, and scream, weep, or laugh. One of the other is very common. Rest is impossible, or likely. Almost. Time is tight. Tight is time!” Hough said, speaking at a fast pace because he was behind schedule. To William's surprise, his words were quite understandable.

  Sitting, William didn't look at those machines, wires, tubes, or the chair too much. He forced his sleeve up, revealing his Emblem that faced his trembling body. Part of the crimson Emblem went to Hough's eyes, giving him a powerful boost and a memory shock. He took it for a great work of art and ascertained the color, while the Accelerator was ready for the next round.

  “Crimson bloody sky. A peculiar, most fascinating color.” Hough mumbled and had yet to use the leather or metallic cuffs. He approached William like a fanatic and grabbed his arm with both palms, angling it to an uncomfortable degree until William grimaced and did... nothing whatsoever. It was bloody silent and still. His Emblem churred in crimson light and waves, yet remained unmoving in its glossy finish. Hough watched it like a jeweler assessing new gems, and William was quite intriguing for numerous reasons.

  “Is crimson that interesting to you, sir? Is it red, scarlet, velvety, or what other shades are there?”

  “Nononononononono. Colors are whispers to the other side. No! Red is red, crimson is the source of blood and countless lawful constructs, sequences, and laws. Shades are life! There are differences, such as the distinction between pure alcohol and water. They look similar, but their truths are different. Shades are different! Emblems are like the sky! It is not all red and blue or white!”

  “Emblems have colors, sir. I know. They can look different and show a lot, or very little. Elements are why.” William argued and watched as Hough laughed at his face.

  “Color is life. Scarlet is watery, flowing like wind, acting sharp yet moldable like flesh, or moving like lightning. Colors are the voices of the Emblems. They are their reason, a step in the evolution. Red is vast. Not peculiarly dry. A magical color that is hard to produce artificially is a rarer kind. It is common knowledge. Colors are common knowledge indeed.” Hough talked as he massaged and looked at the Emblem, answering with ambiguity.

  “So it is true that color matters to Emblems like Walkers themselves?” William tried to get more answers, noticing that the old man was fascinated, but he seemed to have an issue with his brain or was struggling to contain his observations.

  After more than a hundred participants, Hough was just getting started and had a long day ahead. Alas, William was aware who this man was from his appearance alone and knew that asking him something might get tricky, or savvy, or easy.

  He read books and notes about the beginning and current state of the Emblem Association. The library provided a sense of political intrigue and integrity, drawing attention from the history floor to the upper floors, and back to history. Then, one could easily gather reputable knowledge from people, and there were plenty of those people in the library. Ellie was enough for the most part, even if she was way too young to be too personal.

  Kaufman and Heidi dedicated a lot of attention to their matters, and the Association provided valuable feedback. Alternatively, they created their own rooms on the upper floors for special purposes or to enhance the overall experience, which wasn't limited to the library alone.

  After all, the upper floors were quite different from the rest and were far from a simple library. William knew very little, so he wondered what Hough knew.

  He looked to be around eighty years old—perhaps a bit more. Old Walkers were different, either filled with vitality or distinct bodies and auras, but normal... well, relatively normal people, were the same yet different. William would describe it as a silent manner, like a whisper, and rare friction.

  Old Dream was the oldest-looking person William had ever seen, but that one was a Rank 8 Walker, so... what the hell was this? Were they equals? Not really.

  Maybe it was the white old coat, or Hough's strange smile and voice that gave him very different feelings, or the face? He didn't feel very old, but everything else did.

  As William wondered about this old man, he failed to notice the noises and Hough's shaking hands. Then, Hough started to put wires and contraptions around his arm, looking thick and heavy like a bunch of metallic armor cuffs.

  William went back to that silo in his mind alone, sitting in the chair in silence, but he hadn't done that shit. He flew to the wall and stayed there instead, because Old Dream said so. It left few impressions, with most of that time being foggy, as if William couldn't recognize it.

  Regarding this chair, a few details about it were in the library. Rooms showed secrets through pictures. That was about it. Expecting something else was a matter of learning, sitting there right away, or being curious.

  Overall, it was a shit feeling, but he could get past it.

  “Crimson... Crimson! I knew folks who had them. It is an irregular shade. Savage face. There are rarer colors. Living colors. They are... meaningless, in some ways. The System is more important, some say. Yes. Important. Reluctant. Not everything red is crimson, and this one is deeper, but not redder. Red is different. That leaves blood as what? Less important? Is red blood the same as colorless blood, or is the colorless flow greater than red blood? Perhaps yes, that is. Crimson is debatable. Curious. I am curious, little gem,” Hough mumbled as he secured contraptions that should be able to do it justice.

  Then, he swiftly turned around in order to finish his preparation, leaving William curious about what his words meant.

  “He is very strange indeed. Colors are such a big deal, huh? Is it supposed to be savage?” William murmured to himself and his arm, breathing in and out, and feeling his heart tighten. His right arm grew increasingly restless as he hid under many pounds of metallic contraptions and sensors.

  Then, William scanned ahead, overlooking Hough, and for the first time, truly locking in that mirror. The chair, or the entire Accelerator, which was the size of a building, wasn't important. He saw himself in the chair and paid less attention to the room because that thing was unreal. He noticed the differences in the mirrors. Eyes fully red, smile low, and head moving left and right as if he were stretching, his mirror self was free.

  wasn't moving himself. He was still, contained in the chair.

  A voice called from his mirror self.