My na is Shade Fou Bartfort. I turned eighteen just a few days ago. I am the fifth child—the fourth son—of a decaying and forgotten rural barony on the most remote edges of this kingdom of floating islands, and damn it, my life was already an absolute ss long before everything finally collapsed and turned into a literal nightmare.
I rember every detail of my previous life as if it were yesterday. I was an ordinary Japanese salaryman, the kind who grinds twelve, fourteen hours a day at a soulless company, coming ho late at night just to collapse into exhausted sleep and repeat it all again the next day. My younger sister, a selfish freeloader, forced to clear idiotic oto gas for her while she enjoyed trips with friends. I hated it with every fiber of my being—those spoiled, arrogant heroines, those perfect princes with fake smiles, that whole society where n like were reduced to re accessories, trophies, or dostic slaves. I died from pure overwork, classic karoshi, and reincarnated here... only to discover that the ga was reality. And, of course, far worse than any script could ever show.
In this world, won rule everything without rcy. They control the fertile lands, the hereditary titles, the armored airships that cross the skies, the armies of knights in enchanted armor. n? We are useful only as long as we serve so purpose—strategic marriage, manual labor, or cannon fodder in wars against monsters or sky pirates. If you’re born into a poor noble family like mine, a barony of dry, isolated agricultural islands with mana so scarce it barely sustains a basic barrier against flying beasts, you’re nothing more than a mob. A naless extra with no relevance, destined to live and die in the shadows of the true protagonists.
Daily labor in the fields shaped my body over the years—firm, defined muscles from hauling heavy sacks of raw mana crystals, a hunched back from hours under the rciless sun of the floating islands. My face is ordinary, nothing remarkable: ssy black hair constantly tousled by the wind, black eyes that don’t shine with noble mana, average height that commands no respect. In a royal academy filled with powerful heiresses with golden hair and hypnotic eyes, or capturable princes with radiant auras, I would go completely unnoticed. Exactly as a mob should.
I know the entire script of this cursed "ga." I know the na of the protagonist who will arrive at the central academy next school year, I know exactly who the five main romantic targets are, I know the good routes where everything ends in happy marriages and the bad routes where extras like end up enslaved, mutilated, or dead in so pointless battle. My plan was simple: survive quietly, use this ta knowledge to avoid obvious traps, maybe infiltrate the academy as an ordinary student and slowly climb the hierarchy, finding a diocre wife who would give so minimal status.
It was a decent plan. At least until a week ago, when everything started to fall apart.
The symptoms appeared slowly, treacherously. First, a constant fatigue I couldn’t explain—I woke up feeling destroyed, as if I hadn’t slept a single hour, even after collapsing into bed for nine straight hours. I thought it was just the heavy labor in the fields, harvesting mana roots under the scorching heat, carrying heavy supply crates to the village. But then ca the nightly chills, the drowsiness that struck in the middle of the day, forcing to stop working and lean against a tree so I wouldn’t collapse. Strange dreams began to invade the few hours of sleep I managed to get: cold, distant voices whispering my na in the dark, echoes of sothing ancient and hungry.
I knew exactly what it was. I had heard the legends told around campfires on the island’s cold nights, stories whispered by old peasants about the ancient curse.
The Nightmare Spell.
In this kingdom, it’s treated as a rare but inevitably fatal plague for the unprepared. At eighteen, when the body reaches full maturity, so unfortunate souls are "chosen"—marked by the curse. Sleep becos irresistible, a force that crushes all resistance. If you give in and fall asleep, you’re dragged into the First Nightmare: a solitary trial of life or death, tailored to your abilities. Survive the horrors inside, and you gain an Aspect—unique magical powers, becoming a respected Awakened. Fail... and your soul dies. Your body here becos an empty shell, and a horrifying Nightmare Creature is born into the real world, slaughtering everything around it until it’s contained.
Powerful noble families prepare their children from an early age: sword masters, ancestral artifacts, mana legacies that increase their odds. Heiresses of duchies have high-rank Awakened as personal guardians, ready to put down any monster that erges. ? Nothing. Absolutely zero. My mother, a cold, calculating noblewoman, barely looks in my direction—I’m just another surplus child. My older brothers fight over the few fertile lands that remain. My youngest sister already sches marital alliances with viscounts to climb the court. No one would shed a tear for .
So I decided to grant myself one last luxury, sothing to remind that I was still human before the end.
I gathered all the coins I had saved over months of helping out with extra field work—backbreaking, poorly paid labor. I bought a large piece of real at, fresh and juicy, not that processed synthetic sludge that we, the poor and peripheral folk, are forced to swallow every damn day just to survive. The sll alone made my mouth water at the village butcher’s stall. I sat on an old bench in the central square of our island, under the shade of a withered mana tree, and devoured each bite slowly. The flavor exploded in my mouth: salty, hot, with that rich blood running, the tender texture lting on my tongue.
"Fuck... worth every damn coin I spent on this."
I felt a bitter, almost rebellious satisfaction. The rich noblewon of the central islands eat this every day, banquets with exotic ats from aerial monsters. ? Once in my life, before the end.
I finished the bone clean, tossed it neatly into a nearby bin—no ssing up the square and getting chewed out by the guards—and stood up slowly, my stomach full for the first ti in months.
Ti to do what had to be done. I wasn’t going to risk turning into a Creature and killing innocent people in the village.
I walked through the dusty streets to the local guard post—a compact fortress with pulsing magical barriers, watchtowers against pirates, where the kingdom’s knights maintain a fragile order in the peripheral islands. I passed by ordinary families returning from the fields, children running around, a few minor nobles in small airships flying overhead. For a second, I envied those who had enough mana to fly freely.
A guard in light armor, his face marked by scars from battles against flying beasts and sky pirates, sized up from head to toe when I entered the reinforced hall. With my simple clothes, torn and dirt-stained from the fields, I looked more like a runaway servant than a noble.
"Lost, kid? This area’s restricted for low-class folk."
I’m a noble on paper, with an empty title, but who cares about details in a backwater like this?
"I’m not lost. I’ve co to voluntarily declare myself as a bearer of the Nightmare Spell, in accordance with the Royal Directive of Containnt and Isolation."
The guard froze in place, his eyes widening in pure panic. His hand flew to the crystalline communicator on the wall, triggering alarms.
"Holy fucking shit... FULL DARK CODE! IMDIATE ISOLATION AT THE MAIN GUARD! BRING THE ANTI-MANA CHAINS NOW!"
Within chaotic minutes, reinforced manacles etched with anti-mana runes bound my wrists and ankles, dragging down into a shielded cell deep underground. The air down there was cold and damp, reeking of rusted tal and the ancient fear of other infected. Guards ard with enchanted spears and mana shields watched from behind translucent barriers, ready for any outburst.
The heavy door creaked open hours later. An older, more experienced knight entered slowly—unkempt graying beard, tired, hollow eyes of soone who had seen dozens of Creatures born and slain. He sat on a reinforced chair on the other side of the bars, studying with a mix of pity and professionalism.
"Full na and origin, kid."
"Shade Fou Bartfort. From the Bartfort Barony, southwestern peripheral island of Holfort."
He noted it down on a faintly glowing communication crystal, recording everything.
"Bartfort... I’ve heard of it, vaguely. Big family, poor and dry lands. Nobles in na only, commoners in everyday practice."
I shrugged as much as the heavy chains allowed, the cold tal biting into my skin.
"That’s exactly the life we live."
"How long can you stay awake before giving in?"
"A few hours at most. Dusk should knock out completely."
He let out a deep sigh, scratching his beard with calloused fingers, his voice low and weary.
"Then I’ll be straight and honest with you, no bullshit. Do you know how the Spell really works?"
"I have a decent idea. The irresistible sleep drags into the First Nightmare. Inside, trials and challenges adapted to my current abilities. I face dangers, monsters, riddles... survive intact, awaken a unique Aspect and beco an official Awakened. Die in soul in there, beco an empty shell here, and a Nightmare Creature is born in my place, strong enough to wipe out the entire village."
He raised a gray eyebrow, clearly surprised by my knowledge.
"Fuck, you know more than most spoiled little nobles from the central islands, who think they’ll get easy powers. Good sign. But listen carefully: the First Nightmare is theoretically ’balanced’—adjusted so it’s not impossible for soone like you. But in practice, for a kid with no formal combat training, no family mana inheritance, no support artifacts... the odds are fucking low. Many like you don’t even last the first hour."
I knew that deep down. No privileges, no preparation—it was Russian roulette.
"If you get minimally lucky, you’ll gain a straightforward offensive Aspect—sothing for close combat or destructive magic. If you roll support, illusion, or sothing weirder... improvise intelligently. No known Aspect is completely useless if used right."
I suddenly yawned hard, sleep attacking like a black tide rising.
"And one more crucial thing: any ’person’ or ally you et in there isn’t real. They’re just echoes, illusions created by the Spell to test or deceive you."
"Perfectly understood."
He hesitated for a mont, lowering his voice even further, almost conspiratorial:
"Try to resist as long as you can, kid. Fight the sleep out here for as long as possible. If you fail too early in there, the Creature that’s born will be strong as hell. We don’t have any high-rank Awakened stationed nearby to contain sothing like that. The entire village could go to hell because of you."
I almost laughed bitterly. Even in death, I’d be a burden to others, a mob getting in the way of the protagonists.
My vision began to blur at the edges. Eyelids heavy as lead sinking shut.
Everything darkened slowly, the world fading away.
In the absolute, icy void, a cold, chanical, impersonal voice resonated directly inside my mind, echoing like a final judgnt:
[Aspirant! Your soul has been marked by the Nightmare Spell. Prepare for the imdiate First Nightmare...]
[Soul analysis in progress... Severe anomaly detected: Dual reincarnated soul. External, non-native knowledge registered and integrated.]
[Unique Aspect awakening now...]
The chanical voice vanished, and suddenly I was... awake. Not in the guard’s cold cell, but standing in a luxurious corridor, with walls of white marble veined with blue mana, floating chandeliers spilling golden light, and air scented with exotic flowers and expensive perfu. In the distance, enormous windows revealed far-off floating islands, airships cutting through the twilight sky. I recognized it instantly: the Royal Academy of Holfort, the heart of the kingdom, where the most powerful noble heiresses gathered to hunt for husbands and sche alliances.
Fuck. The First Nightmare had thrown straight onto the "main stage" of the script I knew so well. But sothing was wrong—the place felt too empty, distant echoes of female laughter lingering, as if it were a twisted version, ready to screw over.
Before I could process it, glowing words appeared in the air before , floating like a translucent hologram, clinging to my vision as if tattooed onto my retina. A cold, impersonal interface, with pulsing red borders.
[Sexual Beast System awakened.]
[Rank: Divine (Defective)]
[Welco, Master. Your unique Aspect has been activated due to the reincarnated soul anomaly. Vital Points are now essential for survival within the Nightmare Spell and in the real world.]
I blinked hard, thinking it was a sleep hallucination. "What the fuck is this?"
The words kept scrolling, detailing everything as if a sadistic mind had written them in flaming letters.
[Vital Point consumption: 1 per minute (1440 per day). Without points, instant death.]
[To gain Vital Points, complete sexual tasks. Base rewards:]
Simple kiss: 5 points
Intimate touch: 20 points
Oral sex: 50 points
Vaginal sex (virgin): 500 points (x10 initial multiplier)
Anal sex: 300 bonus points
Permanent tasks: Exclusive partner (increasing multipliers for repeated acts), harem (bonuses for multiples), etc.
[Leveling up requires 10,000 initial points. Mandatory tir activated: Ti remaining until level 2 — 30 days. Failure results in fatal penalty.]
The only thing keeping from completely freaking out was the absurd potential of those numbers. Fucking a virgin would give points for entire days? Extra for anal? A permanent partner turning into an infinite source? Hell, if not for the insane consumption rate, this would be the dream of any virgin loser like .
But then ca the strange comnts in parentheses, as if so pervert had added handwritten notes:
(Ah, yes... imagine her moaning your na while you take her from behind. Delicious.)
(Virgins are the best—tight, innocent, points exploding.)
I felt heat rise through , but I shook my head. Focus, Shade. This isn’t real... yet.
And then the poisons...
[Poison 1: Awakening of the Beast — Random activation or triggered by extre desire. Total loss of control for 30 minutes. Body acts purely on savage sexual instinct. (Have fun... or destroy everything.)]
[Poison 2: Instant Death — If the exclusive partner is removed from the list or performs acts with others, Vital Points are imdiately reduced to zero. (Betrayal? Not with the Beast.)]
Two poisons. Rare as hell. One turns into an uncontrollable horny beast, the other kills if I "lose" a girl. Perfect for a virgin mob with no one.
I scread ntally: "This is broken! How the hell am I supposed to level up mandatorily? And points per minute? I’ll die in hours!"
But the interface ignored , only showing a red flashing countdown tir:
[Current Vital Points: 100 (initial bonus)]
[Ti until depletion: 1 hour 40 minutes]
Suddenly, the ground trembled. Distant doors opened, and figures erged—noble girls in academy uniforms, shining hair, predatory eyes. But sothing was off: empty eyes, smiles far too hungry. Echoes of the Spell, just as the knight had warned.
One of them, a tall blonde with absurd curves, stepped closer, her voice sweet but distorted:
"You look lost, commoner. Do you want... help?"
My body reacted before my mind—a fierce heat surging through my veins, my cock hardening against my will. The interface flashed:
[Initial task detected: Intimate touch with virgin echo — 200 potential points.]
"No... this is a test." But the hunger grew, the Awakening of the Beast brushing against the edges.
She extended her hand, fingers grazing my chest. The sensation was far too real—warm skin, intoxicating perfu.
I stepped back, but the corridor seed to shrink, more echoes appearing, laughter reverberating.
[Warning: Awakening of the Beast imminent if desire is not controlled.]
Fuck, the Nightmare was trying to force to use the system right away. Would killing echoes give normal combat points? Or did only sex work here?
The blonde advanced, her clothes magically coming loose, exposing perfect breasts, pink nipples hardening.
"Co... touch . I’ll be your first."
The tir ticked. 1 hour 30 minutes.
I snarled, intelligence fighting instinct: "If I give in now, I beco a slave to this. But if I don’t... I die with no points."
Another figure appeared—a brunette with green eyes, the typical villainess from the script, with a sculpted body.
Two at once? The system flashed a harem bonus.
My control slipped. Heat exploded, vision reddening.
[Awakening of the Beast activated.]
Everything beca primal. Reason vanished. Only desire—animal hunger, the need to dominate, to fuck, to mark.
I lunged forward, hands grabbing the blonde, mouth devouring hers as the brunette laughed and joined in.
Overwhelming sensations: soft skin, false but convincing moans, bodies intertwining on the marble floor.
Points rose fast—kisses, touches, brutal penetration.
[ 50... 200... 500 (virgin echo destroyed)]
But deep down, a tiny part scread: This isn’t real. They’re tests. But the Beast didn’t care.
Thirty minutes of pure sexual chaos, echo bodies dissolving into mana after "use," points piling up.
When it ended, I collapsed, panting, control slowly returning.
[Vital Points: 3420]
[Ti extended: 2 days]
The corridor dissolved. A final chanical voice:
[First Nightmare completed. Survival confird. Returning to the real world.]
Everything darkened again.
I woke up in the cell, guards staring at in shock. The old knight was there, eyes wide.
"Impossible... you lasted hours. And no Creature was born."
I gave a weak smile, the interface still visible only to .
Points ticking slowly.
The Beast was awake. And hungry.
In this world of cruel queens, I was going to devour everything.
Reviews
All reviews (0)