Chapter 11
Nille heart beat was now slowing down , as he sat on the gourd behind the cadaver Herse, while cargo door was wide open lucky it wasn't your typical cadaver vehicle it was more of a commercial, truck than a actual cadaver vehicle. either way the cargo part was spacious enough to stack seven dead corpses, form Nille perspective it was a outrageous situation because he wasn't hesitating , no doubt in his mind the moment he took out the jungle that was a long as his arm and a butterfly knife and instinctively knew how to open it with a smooth quick wrist movement he was already hacking and soon stabbing the 4 foot tall drooling Gabunan that went inside the cargo, and because he was also just around 4 feet tall and was fueled with a unseen magnetic pull to kill these creature.
Even if his movements were still rough and unrefined, his instinct, and the way he acted without hesitation, gave him the element of surprise. It was enough to keep him alive.
Suddenly, Mang Jun and the driver, Ed, spotted him sitting on the back steps of the vehicle.
A flicker of concern crossed their faces.
The young man had no idea what was inside the large black bags.
Trying to keep things casual, they approached him.
"Oi," Mang Jun called out, his tone light but careful. "What are you doing back there?"
Ed leaned slightly against the side of the vehicle, forcing a small smile. "Yeah… that's not exactly a place for resting, kid."
Their eyes briefly met, silent, cautious, and knowing, before returning to him, watching closely for any sign that he might have seen too much.
Nille smiled, calm and unbothered.
"I was watching the cargo," he said simply. "Looks important, so I stayed here. Don't worry… I didn't check or pry."
He gave a small nod, almost respectful.
"Out of respect, Mang Jun. You let me salvage junk here… that's already enough."
For a brief moment, silence hung in the air.
Mang Jun and Ed glanced at each other, an awkward, wordless exchange passing between them.
This kid… has nerves of steel.
No fear. No curiosity. No hesitation.
That alone made him dangerous… or trustworthy. Maybe both.
Nille stood up, brushing the dust off his clothes. He reached down, picked up the box lying on the ground, and held it close to his chest.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
Mang Jun exhaled, the tension easing from his shoulders. A small, genuine smile formed on his face.
"Go on now," he said, waving him off lightly. "Your granny might already be awake and looking for you. It's late."
Ed stepped aside, giving him space, still watching him with a strange mix of doubt and admiration.
Nille gave a slight nod and walked off into the dim light, his figure slowly blending into the quiet night, leaving behind two grown men who couldn't quite decide if they had just let an innocent boy go…
or something far more unsettling.
The driver glanced at his watch, the faint glow reflecting on his face.
"It's already past midnight," Ed said, his voice quieter now. "You should head back inside the hospital. It's… spooky out here by yourself."
Nille paused, then gave a small, polite smile.
"Sorry," he said gently. "I didn't know what time it was. I never really had the chance to check."
He adjusted his grip on the box and bowed his head slightly.
"Thank you po… again."
There was no trace of fear in his voice, only sincerity.
Ed watched him for a second longer, something about the boy not sitting quite right.
Most kids his age would've been scared.
But Nille?
Too calm. Too composed.
Mang Jun crossed his arms, letting out a quiet breath. "That kid…" he muttered under his breath.
Nille turned and continued walking, his footsteps soft against the empty road, disappearing into the darkness, like the night itself had quietly accepted him.
The light spilling out from the emergency ward bathed the entire courtyard in a pale, sterile glow. The chaos from the ambulance earlier had faded, leaving behind a heavy silence.
People lay scattered across benches and cold tiles, some sitting upright with tired eyes, others curled on the floor, chasing whatever rest they could find. A few clutched their phones or rosaries, whispering quiet prayers, waiting for any sign that their loved ones would make it through the night.
As Nille stepped past the entrance, his eyes shifted, naturally, as they always did.
And that's when he noticed it again.
The spirits.
They lingered just outside the emergency ward, drifting aimlessly, pressing close—but never crossing the threshold.
Nille narrowed his eyes slightly.
Annoying.
Not because they were there… but because of how they moved.
To him, the spirits didn't look solid or clear. They flickered, like broken images projected on a screen. Their forms bent and warped, edges splitting into faint duplicates, as if they were slightly out of sync with reality itself.
Like a damaged film reel running through an old projector.
The reason was simple, at least, simple in a way Nille understood.
Spirits didn't exist in the same "layer" as the living world.
They were… misaligned.
Imagine two images overlapping but not perfectly lined up. When they shift, even slightly, your eyes struggle to focus. The brain tries to correct it, to make sense of it, but it can't fully lock in.
That's what Nille was seeing.
The emergency ward, however, was different.
The intense lighting, constant human presence, and the concentration of life—doctors, patients, machines fighting to keep hearts beating, created a kind of stability. Not a barrier made of force, but a boundary formed by overwhelming "realness."
Life, at its strongest, anchored that space.
And spirits?
They couldn't sync with it.
So they stayed outside, lingering at the edges, flickering like unfinished thoughts.
To Nille, that flickering, those constant distortions, pulled at his vision, making the world feel like it was shifting every second. It wasn't fear.
It was dizziness.
Like trying to focus on something that refused to stay still.
He exhaled softly, rubbing the side of his head as he walked past them.
"Ang gulo…" ( what a mess ) he muttered under his breath.
Then, without another glance, he turned away from the emergency ward and continued down the dim path toward the main entrance where the admitted patients were kept.
The farther he walked, the quieter it became.
Only the faint hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional cough broke the silence.
Nille's steps slowed.
Granny Amparo's voice surfaced in his mind, calm, patient, certain.
A third eye is not a non-stop state…
It can be closed.
You just need to understand how to close it… and open it again.
It's still just another sense.
Nille exhaled softly.
Another sense.
That meant it worked like the others.
You don't always notice your breathing, until you think about it.
You don't always feel your clothes, until your attention goes to your skin.
And you don't always hear every sound—unless you choose to listen.
So why should this be different?
He stopped walking.
For a moment, he let everything in, the flickering shapes at the edge of his vision,the faint distortions,the subtle pull that made his head feel heavy.
Then… he did the opposite.
He didn't try to force the spirits away.
He simply… stopped paying attention to them.
He focused on something solid.
The cold floor beneath his feet.The weight of the box in his arms.The steady rhythm of his breathing.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Again.
Slowly, the flickering at the edges of his vision began to fade—not because the spirits disappeared, but because his mind stopped reaching for them.
Like closing your eyes… without actually shutting them.
The distortions softened.
The dizziness eased.
The world… aligned.
Nille blinked once.
Clear.
He gave a small nod to himself.
"So that's how…" he whispered.
It wasn't about shutting something off.
It was about choosing what to perceive, and what to ignore.
Just like any other sense.
And as he continued walking deeper into the ward, the spirits were still there…
…but no longer part of his world.
Nille continued down the hallway, the box steady in his arms. It wasn't that big—about the size of a shoebox, but it had some weight to it. Inside were old aluminum medical clipboards, slightly bent, edges worn from years of use.
He glanced at them briefly.
If the scarf can store things… maybe this too…
A soft thump interrupted his thoughts.
Nille stopped.
Another bump followed, subtle, but clear.
It came from his shoulder.
From the scarf.
His eyes lowered slightly, his expression sharpening—not in fear, but in quiet attention.
"…You did that?" he murmured.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then,
A faint pressure brushed against his mind.
Not a voice.
Not a sound.
Something… simpler.
Like a thought that wasn't his.
…yes.
Nille's grip on the box tightened just a little.
He didn't react outwardly, but inside, something shifted.
"You can… respond?"
A pause.
Then again, that same presence—weak, incomplete.
…a little.
The words weren't spoken. They didn't echo.
They simply appeared, short, broken, like fragments struggling to form.
Nille exhaled slowly, adjusting the box in his arms as he resumed walking.
"Can you store this?" he asked quietly, tilting his head ever so slightly toward the scarf.
A longer pause this time.
As if the scarf was… thinking.
…can try.
Another small bump followed, almost like effort.
Nille's eyes softened, not with emotion, but with understanding.
Limited.
Still growing.
Still learning.
Just like him.
"Alright," he said under his breath. "But don't force it."
A faint response came, weaker than before.
…okay.
The scarf fell still again, resting against his shoulder like nothing more than cloth.
But Nille knew better now.
It wasn't just an object.
It was aware.
Not fully.
Not yet.
But enough to listen… and answer.
And as he walked deeper into the quiet halls of the hospital, carrying nothing but a small box and something far more unusual draped around him,
Nille's steps slowed , his voice dropping just enough that it blended with the quiet of the hallway.
"Can others hear you?"
For a brief moment, there was nothing.
Then...
A faint, almost hesitant presence brushed against his thoughts again.
…no.
Nille glanced slightly to the side, his eyes unfocused—not looking at the scarf, but aware of it.
"Not at all?"
A small pause.
As if the scarf was searching for the right way to answer.
…only you.
The response came a little clearer this time, though still short… still limited.
Nille nodded to himself.
That made sense.
If it spoke the same way it existed, quiet, hidden, slightly out of sync—then it wouldn't reach others the way normal sound would.
It wasn't voice.
It was something closer to thought.
"Why?" he asked softly.
This time, the delay was longer.
The scarf shifted ever so slightly against his shoulder, like it was gathering what little strength it had.
…connected.
The word was simple.
Incomplete.
But enough.
Nille understood.
Not everyone could hear it…
because it wasn't speaking to everyone.
It was speaking to him.
Nille felt it, something light, unfamiliar.
Delight.
It was strange. Everything about this night was strange.The spirits. The scarf. The voice that wasn't a voice.
And yet… none of it scared him.
For an eleven-year-old boy, he accepted it with a quiet calm—as if the world had simply revealed something it had always been hiding.
Still, there was one thing on his mind.
Granny Amparo.
If anyone could explain this… it was her.
He adjusted the box slightly in his arms and whispered under his breath,"Release the book."
There was a faint tug from the scarf, like fabric shifting without wind.
Then, a soft drop.
A worn-out book slid out, landing neatly against his side as if placed there by invisible hands.
Nille caught it with ease.
"…thanks."
…okay.
The response was faint, but present.
As he stepped back into the ward, the familiar scent of antiseptic greeted him. Near the entrance stood the nurse who had given him the sandwich earlier.
Her name tag read: Nurse Elira Santos.
She looked to be in her late twenties, with warm morena skin and gentle, observant eyes. Her dark hair was neatly tied into a low bun, though a few loose strands framed her face from the long shift. There was a quiet kindness in the way she carried herself, tired, but still attentive.
She noticed him almost immediately.
"Hey," she said softly, a bit surprised. "You're still up?"
Nille walked up to her, holding the book carefully.
"Good evening po," he said politely. "Can I borrow this? I'll return it."
Elira blinked, glancing at the old book in his hands. There was something about the boy, his tone, his composure—that made it hard to treat him like a normal child.
"…Sure," she replied after a moment, giving a small smile. "Just take care of it, okay?"
Nille nodded. "Yes po."
He didn't linger.
With the book secured in his arms, he turned and made his way toward the staircase.
The hospital grew quieter the higher he went.
Each step echoed softly,one…two…three…
The second floor was dimmer, calmer. Most of the patients here were already asleep, their rooms lit only by small bedside lamps or the faint glow from the hallway.
Nille walked with familiarity.
Left turn.
Then right.
Then the last door near the end.
He stopped in front of it.
For a brief second, Nille just stood there, taking in the calm of the room.
Then, his eyes caught a familiar shape outside the closed window ledge.
Luna. The stray cat.
She was perched there, sitting quietly, her green eyes fixed on Granny Amparo. Silent, patient, like she had been keeping watch all this time.
Nille crouched slightly and softly tapped on the glass.
Luna's ears twitched, and she turned her gaze toward him. A brief pause, then she simply waited—still, poised, expectant.
Nille smiled softly. He opened the other side of the window slowly, careful not to startle her.
Without hesitation, Luna leapt inside.
Her movement was precise, elegant, almost like she had done this countless times. She landed beside Granny Amparo's bed with such gentle grace that the blanket didn't even stir.
Nille stood for a moment, watching her settle, the soft rhythm of her breathing mingling with the quiet of the room.
"Good girl," he whispered, almost reverently, before finally moving toward the bed himself, carrying the box and the book.
As Nille gently stroked Luna's fur, the scarf shifted slightly against his shoulder. A soft, almost amused presence brushed against his mind.
"Ah… a Nymph!"
Nille chuckled quietly, the corners of his lips lifting into a small smile. He continued to run his fingers through Luna's soft fur, careful not to startle her. The cat leaned into his touch, eyes half-closed, clearly content.
Then the scarf spoke again, a faint spark of excitement in its short, simple words.
"Royal!"
Nille looked down at Luna. Her eyes, already striking, glimmered and slowly turned gold. She sat up straighter, the faint hum of her purr resonating through the quiet room. It was almost as if the scarf's words had awakened something latent in her.
"She… talk… in dreams," the scarf added, the phrase arriving like a ripple of thought in Nille's mind.
Nille paused, watching Luna's golden gaze fix on him. The cat's purr deepened, vibrating softly against the night air.
He whispered softly, almost to himself, "In dreams… huh?"
The scarf hummed faintly in acknowledgment.
Nille's lips curled in quiet wonder. Even with all the strange things he had seen tonight, this… this was something else entirely.
Nille settled onto the floor, holding Luna gently in his arms. Her warm weight pressed lightly against him, her soft purring a steady rhythm in the quiet room. Closing his eyes, he let his breathing slow and deep, the world around him fading away.
Moments later, he felt the familiar pull, the subtle tug that signaled the entrance to the dreaming realm.
When he opened his eyes, he was no longer in the hospital room. The space around him shimmered, hazy and fluid, like light bending in water. And there, before him, was Luna—but not the small stray cat he knew.
She stood upright in humanoid form, semi-transparent, her presence like a delicate sprite caught between worlds.
Her form was slender and graceful, about the height of a twelve-year-old child, slightly taller than Nille himself. Her skin glimmered faintly, a soft, pearlescent translucence that shifted with the ambient light. Flecks of gold danced across her limbs like drifting stardust.
Her hair was long and flowing, cascading down her back in silver-white strands that seemed almost weightless, moving as if underwater. Two pointed ears peeked through her hair, a gentle reminder of her feline origin.
Her eyes, larger than a human's, shone with molten gold, luminous and intelligent, reflecting curiosity and ancient awareness all at once. Her features were delicate, high cheekbones, a small nose, and a faint, knowing smile that gave her a mysterious, ethereal charm.
Around her, a faint shimmer of energy pulsed softly, like a halo of light outlining her sprite-like presence. Even semi-transparent, she exuded quiet authority, elegance, and a hint of mischief.
Nille's breath caught slightly. The cat he had stroked moments ago had transformed, yet every movement, every gesture, carried the same gentle grace he had come to trust.
Luna, or this dream form of hers, looked at him, tilting her head with a playful, almost regal curiosity.
The scarf stirred lightly at his shoulder, a faint pulse in his mind.
"…royal," it reminded him again.
Nille opened his mouth to ask, but Luna raised a delicate hand, her golden eyes glowing softly in the dreamlight. She smiled, a gentle, almost sad expression, and spoke before he could form a question.
"Talking… appearing in this form takes a lot of energy," she said, her voice musical, like wind chimes. "I want to share a few things before I run out."
Nille leaned closer, listening intently.
"Every time you destroy a sinful mythical creature that has entered the human realm and acted against the Divine Will," she continued, "it increases your spiritual essence core."
She lifted a translucent finger, pointing toward a small orb that hovered in the space beside them, melting, swirling, a fluid representation of his growing essence.
Nille watched, fascinated, until Luna's gaze shifted slightly, and for a fleeting moment, her eyes widened. She leaned back, as if something unexpected had struck her.
"It's… the seedling," she murmured, almost to herself. "I… I wasn't expecting this."
…and then she saw something peculiar.
Beside the orb, almost easy to miss, was a tiny speck, no bigger than a single grain.
Luna's golden eyes narrowed slightly as she leaned closer, tilting her head. The glow from the orb reflected off it, revealing a faint pulse of light within the tiny form.
She whispered, almost to herself, "It… it might be…"
Her voice trailed, caught between caution and disbelief.
Nille's eyes followed hers, curiosity sharpening. "Might be what?" he asked, heart quickening.
Luna hesitated, a flicker of hesitation crossing her semi-transparent form. "Something I… I've never expected to see here," she admitted, her tone quiet, measured. "It's small… fragile… but it carries potential beyond its size."
The grain-sized object shimmered faintly, suspended in the orbs ight, as if aware that it had been noticed. it was moving orbiting the baseball size orb. then she continued talking
Nille tilted his head, sensing the weight behind her words.
She shook herself slightly, refocusing, and spoke again, her tone calm but firm.
"Your Granny Amparo… she was like you. But far more skilled in physical combat. When she got pregnant and gave birth to your great grand father…" Luna's golden eyes softened as she continued, "…the gift, your spiritual blessing, skipped a generation. Your father never awakened it. But when you were born…"
She smiled gently, almost proudly.
"…you inherited the same blessing your great-grandmother had."
Nille's heart thudded in his chest.
"So… it's always been in our blood," he whispered, his voice a mix of awe and disbelief.
Luna's gaze softened.
"Yes," she said. "It flows in your line… and now, it is yours to cultivate."
The orb of melting light beside him shimmered brighter, responding to her words.
Nille looked down at it, a mixture of wonder and determination filling him.
He finally understood, this wasn't just a gift. It was a legacy.
And one day… he would have to live up to it.
Luna's gaze softened, her semi-transparent form shimmering faintly in the dream light.
"That scarf…" she began, her voice carrying a weight of centuries, "is special. The one that was given to your great-grandmother… it is very, very old, and extremely powerful, but incomplete. Still, it can help you."
Nille listened intently, holding the tiny book and the image of the melting orb in his mind.
"The piece of textile is part of the Kaunakes fleece," Luna continued, her golden eyes gleaming with a faint reverence. "That's all I and my kind know about it. No wearer has ever lived long… most considered it cursed. The fact that it spoke to you means it accepted you. That's… a good thing."
She paused, letting the weight of her words sink in.
"It was said to be sentient," she said softly, "and has its own personality. Treat it well, and it may guide you. Neglect it, and it may resist., and might even kill you , if it feels you are not worthy "
Her gaze flicked toward the orb and the seedling nearby.
"Lastly… I will lend you more of my kind's fighting arts , the one that i showed you were just basic skills, here are the rest of the art, Like what my kind taught your Granny Amparo. But… do not focus too much on physical fighting. Remember, you can use elemental energy. And that seedling? It is the key. You have no idea how important it is yet."
Her glow dimmed slightly, as if the effort of speaking and sharing drained her energy.
"…Ah…" she murmured, almost reluctantly. "My time is up. I am sorry, but this will be the last time I see you, child. Do not worry. I won't go back home yet, I will wait for you. And when the time comes… I will expect you to fulfill your promise."
The weight of her words, her trust, and the promise she left him pressed on his mind.
With that, Luna's form began to fade, the dream light around her softening until she was little more than a glimmer.
"oh! by the way nice enclave .. even your great grand mother wasn't able to make a sturdy and big place like this, you are really strangely different among the rest i saw,"
Nille , notice wat luna meant the dream realm was now bigger, so does it mean gre in size when he killled the 13 Gabunan, , but luna gave him a hint, "
the biger your land is, dosent mean you will have great harvest," Nille thought about it as if she was spaeking in a philosophical manner, in his understanding its much better to have a small patch of land with bountiful and health land full vitally and enegy,
Nille felt it, a subtle drain, like something was quietly nibbling at his energy. The dream realm itself seemed to pulse against him, stretching wider than he wanted, its fluidity tugging at his focus. He realized this was happening because he had allowed the space to grow unchecked.
He didn't want that.
When Luna finished her speech, he closed his eyes and concentrated, setting rules within the dreaming realm, boundaries to shape it, stabilize it, and make it safe for him to grow. Luna had called this controlled space an Enclave, and Nille decided he would call it the same: his Enclave.
He defined the exact area where he would train and refine his abilities. Inside, he created a structure that felt practical and tangible, something he could interact with as he honed his powers: a warehouse-like building, supported by sturdy concrete pillars, with a 15-meter-tall ceiling. This gave him vertical space for movement, energy manipulation, and practicing elemental techniques.
The building occupied only part of the dream realm, roughly one acre in size, giving him plenty of room to move freely, yet he refused to close off the rest of the land entirely. He knew that the seedling under the orb would eventually grow, and when it did, it would need space to expand its roots. Nille felt the seedling was metaphorically connected to his own growth—the melting orb feeding it, and in turn, shaping his own spirit. It was a strange, instinctive understanding, something he couldn't explain, but he decided to let it flow as it wanted, as he always did.
Even at eleven years old, Nille understood the importance of planning ahead. His Enclave wasn't just a training ground, it was a living, adaptive space within the dream realm, a place where his powers, his spirit, and even the seedling could develop without constraint.
It was ambitious. Perhaps even extraordinary for someone his age.
But Nille was determined.
This was his space, his rules, his Enclave, and here, he would begin to cultivate the gift that had passed down through generations.
And in the quiet of the dreaming realm, he whispered to himself,"I'll keep it… I'll fulfill it. I promise."
The dream slowly dissolved, and Nille felt himself returning to the warm, quiet room where Granny Amparo slept and Luna had curled gently beside her bed, thinking while he sleeps saying
" so there are more like me!"