THE VOICE IN THE DREAM

The dream was a balm. There were no caves or crystal monsters, only a garden bathed in a soft, warm light that was neither day nor night. He walked along a path of fresh grass, and beside him, a female figure accompanied him. He could not see her face, it was veiled by the same light, but he felt an overwhelming calm, a sense of security that he had not experienced since he arrived in that world.

The figure stopped and took her hand. Her fingers were warm and comforting.

— No matter how many times you fall, my little Asimil — she said. Her voice was a whisper, a distant memory, but it filled him with a strength he thought he had lost. — What matters is that you find the strength to get up. —

He wanted to ask who it was, but the words wouldn't come out. The light intensified, and he woke up.

He was in his small clan room, cold sweat clinging to his forehead. The echo of that voice still resonated in his soul. He got up, feeling strangely refreshed, and went in search of Sacres. He found him in the training yard, meditating under a holographic tree.

— I had a dream — said Asimil, without preamble. He told her about the garden, the figure, the voice.

Sacres opened his eyes and looked at him with his usual serene intensity. — And what did you feel? —

— Peace. — Asimil admitted. — And... strength. —

— Then hold on to that voice. — said Sacres, nodding slowly. — Sometimes, echoes are the only thing that keeps us going. —

Armed with this new, fragile determination, Asimil entered the main hall. But the peace evaporated instantly. The atmosphere was still hostile. Clan members deliberately ignored him or looked at him with disdain. The failure of the mission was a stain that would not fade. It was then that he saw the sign, hanging on the main bulletin board, glowing with a golden light: "Entries Open: The Echo Pits. Prove your worth. Glory awaits the brave."

Prove your worth. The words stuck in his mind. It was his only chance. If he won, or at least did well, maybe he could clear his name. Maybe he could prove to everyone, and to himself, that he wasn't worthless. With his heart in a fist and his mother's voice in his memory, he walked to the registration desk.

— I want to sign up — he said, his voice trembling just a little.

The organizer, a little man with glasses, looked at him over his glasses.  — It's an event in teams of four. Do you already have a team? —

Asimil shook his head, embarrassment returning to tinge his cheeks.

— Hmm, one problem. No one will want to go with... — he rasped, uncomfortably. — Well, let's see.— He looked over his list. — Ah, here's another new player, no team. A Noelia. Maybe they can... —

— No way — a cold and cutting voice interrupted them. Noelia stood there, with her arms crossed and an expression of pure annoyance. She had just arrived at the counter.

The organizer sighed. — Look, miss, these are the clan rules for new members without affiliation. They are assigned a team to encourage integration. You two are in the same situation. —

Noelia glared at him, then averted her green eyes to Asimil, assessing him up and down as if he were an insect. He let out a snort of disdain.

Asimil could only nod, swallowing saliva.

— Perfect. Now only two are missing — said the organizer with relief.

— I'll join them — Sacres' deep voice echoed from behind them. He walked over and put a hand on Asimil's shoulder — Someone has to make sure they don't kill each other before the event starts. —

Noelia rolled her eyes, but did not protest. A team of three. Weak, but it was something. They headed together toward the Pit Lobby, the staging area for the event. The tension between them was so thick you could cut it with a dagger.

The lobby was a chaos of players shouting, comparing equipment and forming strategies.

— Great, now we need a tank or a front line DPS and we are surrounded by idiots — exclaimed Noelia.

As if his words had summoned him, a loud, burly figure pushed his way through the crowd, shoving others unapologetically. He had spiky red hair, an arrogant smile, wore no armor, but a sleeveless vest that emphasized his defined and developed muscles.

— I heard that a group of losers with potential needs a fourth member — he said, stopping in front of them and crossing his arms. His gaze swept over Sacres with respect, Noelia with defiant interest and Asimil with amusement. — They look pathetic. I like it. I'll give this funeral some excitement. I'm in. I'm Ikel Ken. And you'd better keep up with me. —

He didn't wait for an answer. He simply stood next to them as if he had always been part of the team.

Asimil looked at his companions: an ice queen who hated him, his mentor who was there out of obligation, and a bully who had invited himself.

This is going to be a disaster, he thought, feeling a knot of panic and a strange spark of excitement in his stomach.