The name brought the memory of the dream back into focus, reminding Wyatt of… everything. More specifically, he focused on the events leading up to the whole Angel versus Devil debacle.

  Demiurge assaulted the seemingly normal, if not a bit weak, Invasion Gate. The Gates allowed the denizens of Riacore, the World Dungeon, to cross into Eyanora, his homeworld. Riacore and all its secrets was one of three reasons Wyatt wanted a delver’s license: his curiosity, need for something more than being just another person that died at the border, and the pay that came with being a delver.

  There were many unknowns about the World Dungeon he wished to explore, understand, and reveal to the rest of the world. Sure, the call to adventure made his heart race with excitement, but that paled in comparison to his thirst for knowledge.

  Secrets and unsolvable mysteries were his favorite type, in which Riacore had countless of both.

  That’s what he did as a dungeon diver. Dungeoneering had, and would, always be his hobby, passion, and life’s calling.

  When he returned from a long mission that turned out to be a dead end, he had joined the defense in order to blow off some steam. The fact that Cameron had joined too made the decision that much easier. The Paladin never missed out on the opportunity to go all golden smite mode, and the Devils loved him for it. Watching them run in fear or try to stand up to him never failed to make Wyatt feel better.

  So why did Wyatt feel so off? Why did he feel like everything he knew was a contradiction to things as they were now?

  “The dream?” he wondered.

  Wyatt locked his eyes on his face and sighed deep. Seeing himself didn’t feel right. In fact, seeing himself without the numerous years of scars he’d painstakingly collected reminded him of things he’d prefer to forget and never remember.

  Like so many of the elite dungeoneers, his face seemed to realign itself and trim away the excess body fat. He looked… average. Maybe even a little above average.

  And that wasn’t normal.

  In his entire life, he’d always looked less than average, even ugly to many. Seeing his not-terrible looks now, he started to understand a thing or two about a thing or two. The process was rare, one described in countless stories and lessons.

  Not everyone could Awaken. Even now, no philosopher, researcher, or group of magical paragons knew the qualifications for Awakening. The process seemed almost random at times. The only hard rule anybody could determine was the hereditary strain for magical potential existing somewhere within a person.

  As far as Wyatt knew, neither of his parents nor anybody in his family tree had ever Awakened. His dad always used to beat himself up for not being a stronger man and being able to hunt in The Snarl for food.

  Many skeptics even accused his mother of adultery when Wyatt’s Awakening occurred, but their naysaying was easily silenced by a local arbiter with a utility card called Detect Lies.

  Wyatt had some theories of his own he kept close to his chest until he accumulated more evidence, but that theory fully supported his current situation.

  When he looked at himself in the mirror, he knew exactly what had happened. The phenomenon was one of his deepest desires, something he’d dreamed of for as long as he could remember.

  He’d Awakened... again.

  His fingers touched softly against his face. “Who knew I’d get free face replacement surgery. That’s neat. Better hair, straight nose, and,” he smiled with all his teeth, “free dentistry too. This seems like something people should talk more about.”

  If he’d Awakened in his sleep, the dream could’ve been some kind of premonition, but that theory didn’t match the research he’d done on the topic. Nothing about the dream made sense in any context, and he had a lot to draw on.

  Wyatt’s leading theory unsettled him.

  The dream was the future. No, a future. One he’d returned to the past to stop from coming to fruition. The cognitive dissonance and brain pain he kept experiencing were both a result of his memories of the future, a whole fifteen years worth, and those of his current circumstances clashing.

  The theory made him realize he had knowledge of things he shouldn’t. Knowledge that came from living another life and integrating many things from the future he hadn’t yet studied into his core being. That understanding carried over.

  And as much as he wished the cast to be some kind of weird foresight, the whole scenario didn’t match any he knew. Even theorized premonition abilities didn’t match the clarity of his dream nor the deeply ingrained understanding of things he shouldn’t know.

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  Wyatt blinked twice. “Huh, if everything in the dream is true, life number two is a chance to have even more adventures. Hell, if I look at things in a positive light, I’ll have even more adventures than before. Granted, I don’t necessarily like being forced into being some kind of angelic savior or carrying around the soul of an Angel…”

  Rolling his eyes, he began massaging his temples.

  “What am I even talking about? This… can’t be real, right?”

  An urge to rush to the library to inquire on the NaviWeb about golden eyes and go deeper into the research and patterns of Double Awakenings tempted him.

  But the thought of seeing Annabeth again and a grumbling stomach reminded him to take a deep breath. Panicking and rushing around like a madman would only end up wasting effort and terrify the people around him.

  In fact, he didn’t know when or where Lucifer began his infiltration of Eyanora. Even now, the possibility of the Devils residing within the academy couldn’t be ignored. Acting out of the ordinary could tip them off if they were.

  Without knowing who was friend or foe, he needed to act like Devils were all around him. To do that, he needed to remain calm and collected. Already, he started forming a plan. The first step to not dying and saving the world from annihilation-by-Devil would be to assemble a task list to complete throughout the day.

  The second step, far simpler than the first, was to act according to the list. Whatever he decided to put on the list would be subject to change based on circumstances and newly acquired information.

  So the third and probably most important part of his plan would require him to always adapt to new information and circumstances. Doing so was paramount if he wanted to survive the days to come.

  Yet, knowing as much, he continued touching his face in awe while staring at his glowing eyes.

  “That will be inconvenient,” he muttered. “Not sure what I can do about the whole golden glow thing until I can make a trip to the market, and Demer’s next holiday isn’t for another,” he glanced at the calendar, “five days. That’s just great. I’m sure nobody will notice.”

  He hung his head. The admins, as stingy as they’d become, would never give him sunglasses or colored contacts.

  “I’m so screwed.”

  Were it not for his aching stomach grumbling in frustration even louder than before, he might have stayed there for the rest of the day. Sure, the consequences of bailing on class weren’t worth not going, but with no solution to his eyes that glowed like the sun…

  But at heart, Wyatt was a man of action. He couldn’t just lock himself in his room and do nothing. Worrying about his eyes was a problem for the near-future-Wyatt. And just like how he needed to clean himself before, the duty of fighting off hunger pangs and his growling stomach beast required he depart to his next battlefield.

  The thrill of hunting prey!

  In this case, that meant going to the probationary academy’s cafeteria to receive the first of his three daily doses of NutriGrub—bleh. Even if it contained all the necessary hoodoo-voodoo people needed, the nutrient-dense mush most certainly lacked the flavor people wanted. Better than starvation, sure, but only barely.

  He took the clothes from the top of the dresser and pulled them on. Monochrome, monotony. In his mind, the two were synonymous. At least they were soft and did what they needed to.

  Unfortunately, he needed socks and boots. Already feeling impatient and restless, he tapped the sides of the dresser. NaviSys did its thing, opening a drawer packed full of socks—season specific socks at that. Which, considering Demer’s location at the top of a large, snowy mount, meant only the winter socks really ever got worn.

  Slipping into the thick socks, he grumbled about the moronic practice of building an academy at the top of a mountain. The practicality behind the logistics left him sputtering internally. Sure, cards made the process of terraforming the rock into something habitable, but they didn’t make the crappy weather any less cold, wet, or miserable.

  The constant presence of looming clouds blocking out the sun helped nothing. He missed the feeling of warm sun on his skin, the smell of fresh flowers in bloom, and the sound of birds chirping.

  Nothing chirped here.

  Back home, the temperature never dropped below hot-as-Hell levels until winter, but even then, they didn’t get to be as bad as Demer did on a good day. So the foreign and unfamiliar sight of thick snow had baffled him.

  To attend the academy, he’d been required to fund his own travel. Being poor as poor could be and receiving only a small stipend in advance from his sponsor to make sure Wyatt actually reached the academy… Pure weaponized force of will kept him moving when his limbs ached like never before and hunger knotted his gut.

  Really, they didn’t give him much to work with in the first place, and attendance required many purchases—like his seven core cards. Carriages weren’t an option, so Wyatt walked.

  For the most part, he’d experienced nothing unusual. Nothing he experienced while traveling to Demer was anything he hadn’t dealt with before, but the mountain… He’d love to have a nice talk with the person who decided the location of the academy.

  His walk up the mountain had been a nightmare. Aching feet, steep slopes, and a bundle of all the necessary supplies the academy didn’t provide. Carriages had passed him, nearly running him off the road on more than a dozen occasions. Completely unprepared and far too poor to buy anything from the large mountain town at the mountain’s base, he’d shown up to Demer’s gates looking like a vagabond.

  “They really tried to turn me away,” he grumbled as he tapped on the dresser again, prompting NaviSys to pop out one of his two pairs of boots—one winter, the other unwearable. “Morons. Do they expect Demer to one day just stop being Demer? Like, why even stock this stuff? It’s not freezing cold less than a week out of the year. Even then, it’s too cold for casual clothing.”

  While grumbling, he pulled on the winter boots and laced them tight. Finally, he yanked on the hoodie. Wyatt was now dressed up properly for venturing out into the wilderness—the wild campus ground he needed to cross to get to the cafeteria. In temperatures freezing or below, the less time spent out and about, the better.

  Now prepared, he placed his palm on his seamlessly smooth white door. A soft blue tickled like static over his fingers, then his door opened and revealed the familiar dormitory hall.

  “One large step for man, one even larger step for Wyatt,” he muttered as he entered the hall.