Introduction

"A long time ago, in Brahmasila, there was a group of people who possessed the unique ability to use memories as fuel to create spells and copy them onto cards.

They were collectively known as Mnemonic Weavers and they worshipped the brightest constellation in the sky.

However, everything changed with his birth. He became the first to reject a god and the last to confront one. Some labeled him as a demon, while others saw him as a psychopathic killer. 

But what was he exactly? Where did he come from? No one knew. Throughout his mortal life, he uttered only one sentence. That sentence was...

"…your dead god called me Dream Weaver."

From that day forth, the brightest constellation disappeared, replaced by a shroud of darkness, and our nightmare began."

An old woman embraced her trembling granddaughter, her gaze fixed upon the hundreds of people lying on the ground with vacant eyes as though dark stars had supplanted their gaze.

"Every night, he descends for his feast. His only means of entering Brahmasila is through dreams. Remember, child, the pain I inflict upon you is for your survival..." With a delicate touch, a needle pierced the girl's neck, eliciting a stifled gasp.

"Pain is our only salvation!"

"Grandma…."

"Yes?"

"Did he really kill a god?"

The old woman recoiled at her granddaughter's question. After a moment, she replied with a grave voice, "Yes, why do you ask?"

"Nothing…" the little girl answered, a glint of determination flickering in her eyes. 

'He killed a god… why can't I?' Unnoticed by the old woman, a deep blue hue passed over her granddaughter's eyes.

* *

The sun beat down relentlessly on the barren landscape as a row of figures stood before the imposing Starfall quarry. From the sky, the quarry looked like a gateway to the underworld with dead souls waiting to enter. 

Each person in the lineup was clad in a vibrant orange uniform from head to toe. Helmets were securely fastened, masks covered their faces, and a thick wire from it connected to the oxygen cylinders on their backs.

Their hands gripped various digging weapons, each designed for a specific purpose in the task ahead. Some held sturdy pickaxes, their metal heads glinting in the sunlight, ready to break through the rocky surface.

Others wielded shovels, their edges sharp and well-used, poised to scoop up whatever lay beneath the earth.

Dmitri stood at the back, his head lowered. A sharp axe glinted in his hand, and a thin metallic wire from it rolled in his forearm with its sharp end piercing his skin through the uniform. 

His vacant eyes remained fixed on the ground as he mechanically followed the movements of those ahead. 

After some time, he reached the forefront with a small pathway and a huge crack after it. There was only one person in the line who already showed hints of impatience.

"Aye. Why is it taking years? It seems the new guy isn't as competent as Mr. Donald," said the bulky man, casting skeptical glances toward the young man reviewing documents at the front. 

The youth paused briefly, then glanced in their direction, shaking his head with a smile.

That smirk cut through the oppressive heat like a refreshing breeze, sending a chill down Dmitri's spine. 

Unknowingly or uncontrolably, he mirrored that smile.

'Damn it.' Dmitri bit his tongue, tasting the metallic tang of blood. The fleeting coolness that had briefly swept over him dissipated like a mirage, leaving Dmitri's once vacant eyes now wide with apprehension. 

'A Weaver... and not just an average weaver, but an Emotion Weaver.'

Dmitri did not doubt the identity of his new superior. The answer lay in the cooling sensation he had just experienced.

That man's smile was infectious. Dmitri stole a glance at the bulky figure beside him, only to find himself grinning foolishly, like an unwitting puppet. 

'That smile was not directed at me,'

Dmitri thought, his teeth clenching as he pinched the wire piercing his forearm, stifling a suppressed grunt. 

'...but I almost fell into it.'

His eyes locked with the young man who was studying the bulky man near him with scrutiny. 

Dmitri quickly averted his eyes before the young man noticed. He knew he stood no chance against regular dwellers in Starfall, let alone an Emotion Weaver.

"What is your name?" came the question.

"John Doe…"

"Ah, a good name. What a pity…"

What kind of reply was that? Dmitri glanced up at the young man once more. John Doe, the bulky man, now stood with trembling shoulders; even his legs were shaking.

"Remember…," the young man suddenly paused, "No… you don't need to remember. My name is Avalon. Avalon Aleksandrovich Petrov. Now go down…"

Avalon spoke with the same signature smile on his face. John nodded slightly, then, with his trembling legs, bypassed the safety area into the quarry.

It's just his footsteps made a crimson trail on the ground. 

 And…

'Jump'

Dmitri's eyes widened in horror. He jumped! Jumped without any safety harnesses attached. 

Avalon turned to him with that same enigmatic smile. 

"Come here," came a soft voice. Again, the same cooling sensation spread in Dmitri. However, this time, he did nothing, allowing his legs to move mechanically to Avalon.

"Good boy," Avalon said, patting him on the head. Was that a gift? Dmitri felt strange.

Like...

'Like a sheep under the butcher.'

He hated that feeling.

"You read the rule book, right?" asked Avalon with a lazy smile tugging on his lips. 

From the start until now, he always had a smile on his face. It was like a pure, white lotus emitting coolness all around.

However, if one were to underestimate him because of that, the end result would be John Doe.

"Yes..."

Dmitri felt it was better to avoid speaking with this man lest he unintentionally provoke him.

With every passing moment, he experienced torment from his forearm. It was like his bones were slowly being cut through by wire.

"I see," Avalon glanced at his forearm with a knowing smile.

"Okay, you go down. Oh, and don't forget to connect the harness. The last guy seemed to have forgotten it." 

Once again, Dmitri's movements were robotic as he secured the harness to his uniform and approached the edge, steeling himself before peering into the abyss below. 

"Oh, I forgot, what was your name?" Avalon's disinterested voice interrupted, likely for documentation purposes.

Without looking back, Dmitri replied,

"Dimitri... Dmitri Ivanovich Sokolov."