Ch: 7 [Dream]

As I drifted into a fitful sleep, my dreams took on a nightmarish quality. I found myself standing in the midst of a desolate, barren landscape, where the sky was a swirling mix of crimson and black. The air was heavy with a sense of foreboding, and the ground beneath my feet felt like shifting sands.

In the distance, I saw a figure, a silhouette against the blood-red horizon. It was the mysterious girl, the one I had encountered earlier in the day. She stood there, her purple irises glowing with an eerie light, and her gaze was fixed on something beyond my sight.

I tried to approach her, to call out to her, but my feet felt as if they were encased in concrete. No matter how hard I struggled, I couldn't move any closer. It was as if an invisible force held me in place, a force that was beyond my control.

The scene around me began to shift and warp, like a distorted reflection in a funhouse mirror. The crimson sky darkened further, and the air grew thick with a suffocating tension. The ground trembled beneath me, and I felt a growing sense of dread that seemed to seep into my very bones.

The girl's gaze remained fixed on that unseen point in the distance, and her lips moved, as if she were speaking. But I couldn't hear her words, couldn't make out what she was saying. It was as if her voice was carried away by the howling winds that swept across the desolate landscape.

Suddenly, the ground beneath me gave way, and I found myself falling, plummeting into a seemingly endless abyss. The sensation of freefall was terrifying, and I couldn't see anything around me. It was as if I had been swallowed by darkness itself.

I tried to scream, to claw my way back to the surface, but there was no escape from the void. The feeling of helplessness was overwhelming, and I struggled in vain against the inexorable pull of gravity.

"Get up and try again," A man's voice came to my ears.

"Wha..." I tried to clear my head.

As the man's voice echoed in my mind, the darkness that had enveloped me began to dissipate, replaced by a dim, flickering light. I blinked, disoriented and still shaken by the nightmare, only to find myself in an entirely different place.

I was standing in what appeared to be a training room, its walls made of cold, unforgiving metal. The room was dimly lit, with harsh fluorescent lights casting long shadows across the floor. The air was thick with tension, and a sense of unease settled in the pit of my stomach.

My eyes fell upon a figure standing before me, a tall and imposing presence. It was my father.

He was dressed in a martial arts gi, the fabric rippling with each movement. His face was stern, his expression devoid of any warmth. His presence alone exuded an aura of authority and discipline.

I swallowed hard, the memories of my childhood flooding back. This was the training room where my father used to push me to my limits, where he had subjected me to grueling exercises and relentless drills. It was a place where I had endured pain and suffering, all in the pursuit of his unrelenting expectations.

"Get up, Travis," my father's voice was cold and commanding. "We don't have time for weakness."

I struggled to my feet, my muscles aching from the fall and the oppressive atmosphere of the room. My father's gaze never wavered, and I knew that any sign of defiance would not be tolerated.

Without a word, he lunged at me, his movements swift and precise. I barely had time to react as he delivered a series of rapid punches and kicks, each one aimed with deadly accuracy. I stumbled and dodged, trying to evade his attacks, but he was relentless.

"Use your Quirk," He kicked Travis hard, sending him spinning on the nearby training dunny, "You can reverse things... You should be able to reverse my attacks. Get up and try again."

I struggled to my feet, pain shooting through my body from my father's relentless assault. His training had always been brutal, pushing me to my limits and beyond. My Quirk, the ability to reverse things, was a unique power, but it had never been enough to gain his approval.

But I don't need his approval. I survived on my own ever since he abandoned me on the streets. Anger, rage... I want to smash his face and beat him up till he begs for mercy. But, my body wasn't in my control. It's in the control of my past five-year-old self.

'I still remember this scene... I passed out, right here. And by the time I opened my eyes... My father was standing before my eyes with his handgun. But... This...'

My younger self struggled to stand, his tiny body battered and bruised from the relentless training. His eyes were filled with fear and confusion, his quirk still a mystery to him. He didn't understand why his father pushed him so hard, why he demanded perfection at every turn.

My father's attacks continued, each one a reminder of the pain and suffering I had endured as a child. But this time, something was different. My younger self's eyes held a determination that hadn't been there before, a spark of defiance in the face of adversity.

As my father lunged once again, my younger self concentrated with all his might, tapping into the depths of his quirk. Time seemed to slow, and the world around us shifted. My father's attack, once a blur of motion, now moved in reverse.

The force of his punches and kicks was affecting him instead of me, and he stumbled backward, his own attacks turned against him. He watched in shock as the force of his own blows sent him sprawling to the floor.

'This is new...'

I watched as my younger self stood there, his small form radiating a newfound sense of power. He had discovered the true potential of his quirk – the ability to reverse not just objects, but actions as well.

My father climbed to his feet, "Great... That's how you do it." He yelled with a large grin and pulled out a handgun, "Now, try to deflect a bullet."

'This is where I regained my consciousness...'

[Bang!!!] He shot at me.

I lifted my arm and tried to stop it, but it pierced through my right shoulder.

The searing pain tore through my shoulder as the bullet struck, and I cried out in agony. My younger self's attempt to reverse the bullet had failed, and I was left reeling from the gunshot wound. Blood seeped through my fingers as I clutched at the wound, struggling to stay on my feet.

My father's face contorted into a cruel smile as he approached me, his cold eyes filled with a twisted satisfaction. "Pathetic. You're weak, just like your mother."

The mention of my mother was like a knife to the heart. She had been a distant memory, a ghost from the past, and my father's words were a painful reminder of the family I had lost. I barely even remember her face...

'I will kill this motherfucking bastard one day...'

The world turned blurry before my eyes, as I lay there bleeding.

Huh!? What's that...? That red patch on his arm. Did it work? Did my Quirk reverse the damage on his body? If so, can I control where I want to inflict the injury?

So many questions...

No answers...

"Tsk," My father clicked his tongue, "Medics... Heal this pathetic existence and drag him away."

[Beep!] [Beep! [Beep!] The sound of alarm...

I wake up with a start, my heart pounding in my chest. My body is drenched in sweat, and I can still feel the lingering pain from the gunshot wound in my dream. It takes a moment for me to register that I'm back in my dorm room, safe and sound.

I sit up on the edge of my bed, trying to calm my racing heart. The room is bathed in the soft light of the early morning sun, a far cry from the dark and oppressive training room of my dream. The posters on the walls and the familiar surroundings serve as a reassuring anchor to reality.

It was just a dream... A twisted, nightmarish dream.

I run a hand through my hair, trying to shake off the lingering unease. The memories of my childhood, the relentless training, and the gunshot still haunt me, even in my sleep. It's been years since I last saw my father, and yet he continues to cast a long shadow over my life.

I glance at the clock on my bedside table. It's time to take a quick shower and leave.