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GTS Summoner Ch 13: The Waking Dream!
🕑 Added 2025-06-11 19:43:29 +0000 UTC(Markus)
Markus couldn't sleep. Again.
He lay flat on his back, arms folded behind his head, staring at the ceiling of his room like it had answers he hadn't thought to ask. The shadows cast by the moonlight through his half-drawn curtains danced along the walls, long and thin, like ghosts that refused to leave. He blinked once. Twice.
Then squeezed his eyes shut.
And there they were.
The screams.
The horror.
The battlefield that seemed to go on forever—broken swords, shattered helmets, the broken bodies of warriors strewn across muddy earth. But it wasn't the war itself that haunted him. It was the women. Not soldiers. Just... victims.
Their faces contorted in agony. Their screams rang in his ears even when he was awake. He could see the burns on their skin, the blood soaking through their clothes. The pain etched into their eyes stayed with him long after the dream ended. Every single time.
It was as if something—someone—wanted him to see it. To relive it. Over and over again.
Markus sat up in bed, breath tight in his chest. The room was still, the only sound the soft ticking of the clock on his desk. He rubbed his face with both hands, dragging them down to his chin before letting out a tired sigh.
"Sleep's overrated anyway," he muttered to himself.
He stood up and walked slowly to the window, the wooden floor creaking beneath his bare feet. The night outside was calm. Too calm. The sky was painted in hues of dark blue, stars scattered across it like confetti, and the moon—big and silver—hung low, casting a pale glow across the quiet suburb.
He placed his palm on the glass and leaned forward slightly, letting the coolness of the window soothe his forehead.
He should've felt lucky, he told himself. After all, he was alive. His sister, Natalie, was still breathing. Still stable. She'd been through worse.
But she wasn't awake.
And that was the part that tore him up the most.
He remembered the night of the accident as if it had happened just yesterday. Natalie had just graduated from college—top of her class, honors, the whole nine yards. They had gone out to celebrate, just the two of them. Burgers, milkshakes, bad karaoke at some late-night diner. She'd laughed so hard her face hurt.
It was one of the best nights they'd had in years.
Then came the drive home.
He was the one behind the wheel. Natalie had dozed off in the passenger seat, still humming a tune from the karaoke machine. The road was quiet, nothing but trees and the occasional speed sign. And then—without warning—came the vision.
Not a flash. Not a daydream. A full vision.
Blood. Screaming. That same hill. That same golden-haired woman. Her sword dripping with—
Markus jerked the steering wheel without realizing it.
The car veered. Tires screeched. He remembered the feeling of the airbag punching him in the chest. The sharp crack of glass. The deafening silence afterward. And Natalie, limp and bleeding, slumped in her seat.
He'd tried to convince himself afterward that it was just a fluke. Just exhaustion. A trick of the brain.
But now? Weeks later? After all that had happened with the Titan Knight? With that giant sword-wielding psychopath trying to turn him into pavement jelly? After what happened in the hospital bathroom?
Yeah. Fluke was off the table.
Markus stepped back from the window, rubbing his arms as a chill crept down his spine.
Natalie was still in a coma. Doctors said there was brain activity. Said it might just be a matter of time. But time had a nasty habit of stretching forever when you were waiting on someone you loved to wake up.
He sighed and glanced at the clock. 2:37 AM.
Tomorrow—or rather today—was going to be a long one.
He had a meeting with the school principal. The same school that had, very graciously, found him a "substitute teacher" for his classes until he recovered. And he had a strong feeling the meeting wouldn't exactly be about catching him up on missed homework.
They probably wanted answers. Answers about the incident. About him leaving his classroom unattended, all just so that he could go and save his sister.
Markus yawned, not because he was tired, but because it was the only thing his body knew how to do when it was this drained.
He shuffled back to his bed, the sheets still rumpled from his earlier attempts to rest. He sat down on the edge and stared at the wall for a while, his eyes half-lidded, unfocused.
Then he laid back, one arm behind his head, the other resting across his stomach.
"I need to get some sleep," he mumbled.
But deep down, he knew he wouldn't.
Not tonight.
***
(The next day)
Markus Miller bolted down the school hallway, backpack swinging wildly behind him, sneakers squeaking against the cracked linoleum with every rushed step.
"Excuse me—sorry! Excuse me!" he called out as he ducked past students, side-stepping a pair of first-years chatting near a half-collapsed vending machine.
The school was in bad shape—like, real bad. Half the lockers were dented or hanging open, most of the ceiling tiles looked like they'd lost a fight with gravity, and several of the hallway lights flickered like they were auditioning for a horror movie. Honestly, it was a miracle the place was even open. But even in a half-ruined city, education apparently never slept.
Markus jumped over a pile of caution tape cordoning off a section of floor where a crater-sized hole had swallowed the tiles.
"Gotta love public schools," he muttered under his breath.
He finally skidded to a stop in front of the administrative wing, breathing heavily. There, standing by the glass door to her office with her arms folded, was Vice Principal Evelyn Hayes. She was tall, sharp-featured, and somehow always looked like she was one raised eyebrow away from judging your entire life's worth of decisions. Her gray pencil skirt was pristine despite the dusty state of the school, and not a single strand of her sleek brown bob was out of place. The woman was a walking, talking, immaculate storm.
"Mr. Miller," she said flatly, looking at him like he'd tracked in mud. "Good of you to finally join me, even if you're... how shall I put it? Unfashionably late."
Markus straightened up, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. "I'm so sorry, ma'am. It's just—uh—most of the streets were still blocked, and then there was this construction detour and—"
Vice Principal Hayes held up a single hand. The classic I'm not here for your story gesture.
"I didn't ask for excuses," she said. "I asked for you to be here on time."
Markus nodded quickly. "Right. No, yeah, of course. My bad."
"Shall we begin the meeting?" she asked, her tone more rhetorical than inviting. Without waiting for a reply, she turned and opened the office door, walking in with the precision of a drill sergeant.
