For the first time in what felt like forever, Laurick Andersson didn't feel like he was about to shatter into a thousand pieces.
The evening sun dipped behind the jagged silhouettes of the surrounding mountains, casting Bjørnevika in soft orange light. Snowflakes lazily floated from the gray sky, dusting the rooftops without urgency. Inside the government safehouse, the atmosphere was surprisingly… warm.
Laurick sat cross-legged on a worn-out rug in the living room, watching Brynjar "My Gig" mime a drum solo in the air. As he did, the real boom-boom of actual drums filled the room, invisible but loud, making Laurick jump a little at first—then smile.
Brynjar winked. "See? No drum kit needed. I'm a one-man band."
On the couch, Hilde "Flammejenta" was dramatically flexing her arms, challenging Vegar "Destalio" to an arm-wrestling contest.
"Come on, Black Hole Boy!" Hilde grinned, slamming her elbow onto the table. "Let's see if that fancy quirk of yours can help you against raw heat!"
Vegar gave her a sideways look and calmly pulled a black cloth from his sleeve—absorbing the coffee mug off the table into the blackness without touching it.
"Storage space doesn't punch back," he said dryly. "You're on your own."
Laurick actually let out a small laugh—soft, but real. His hand instinctively checked the inside pocket of his hoodie, feeling the cold, smooth surface of the Dreamcatcher nestled safely there. It pulsed faintly against his chest, a quiet heartbeat promising protection.
For the first time in twelve years, Laurick allowed himself to imagine it—
Maybe he could sleep tonight.
Maybe he could actually live again.
North of Dausa – Dundal
The mood in Dundal was entirely different.
The small town—tucked into the cold, craggy shadows south of Folgefonna's glacier fields—was shrouded in unease.
Police cars blocked off two entire streets near the town center. Residents peered nervously from shuttered windows. Snow-covered alleys and abandoned warehouses created too many blind spots. Too many places to disappear.
The local police chief, a thickset man with a permanent scowl, barked orders into his radio.
"No visual on the target yet. Keep the perimeter tight. No civilians out after dark. Reinforcements inbound."
The reports had been vague but chilling:
Strange disappearances. Dogs refusing to go near certain streets. Witnesses claiming they saw something… wrong. A figure moving unnaturally fast. Hunting.
The chief turned as a bright light descended from the sky.
Landing with a heavy thud was a figure clad in shining silver armor adorned with white and gold details, a heavy cape fluttering against the rising wind.
Helligdal, Hero Name: Guardian of Light.
His Quirk: Divine Protection—an aura that repelled damage, enhanced defense, and made him an almost unstoppable shield on the battlefield.
The chief wasted no time.
"Helligdal! Glad you're here. We've got something real bad stalking the town. Reports suggest he's hunting for something."
Helligdal straightened, his face unreadable beneath his half-helmet.
"Not something," he said in a deep, resolute voice.
"Someone."
The chief frowned. "You know that for sure?"
Helligdal looked toward the darkened warehouses.
Something moved—too fast for the naked eye to catch.
His hand tightened on the hilt of the heavy mace slung over his back.
"I can feel it. He's looking for someone. And whoever he finds first…"
He let the sentence hang.
The shadows around Dundal seemed to grow deeper as night crept in.
And somewhere out there, the new villain—a hunter without a name—was closing in.
The cabin lights were dim, the fire down to glowing embers.
Laurick sat on the edge of his bed, cradling the Dreamcatcher carefully in his hands. It was warm now—vibrating faintly, like a heartbeat responding to his own.
He slipped it under his pillow with slow, almost reverent motions. His fingers lingered for a second longer than needed, as if reassuring himself it would really protect him.
Then, with a long, shaky breath, he lay back.
The room blurred around him.
The darkness pressed closer.
And Laurick Andersson fell asleep.
Inside the Dreamworld
It was cold.
Not the kind of cold that bit your skin, but the kind that gnawed on your soul.
Laurick opened his eyes to find himself standing in a swirling mist, endless and shifting. No stars. No ground. Just an endless, bottomless haze.
And then he heard it.
A sharp, metallic clang.
From the mist emerged a hulking figure—Terminator—his frame built of dark steel and neon scars. Servo motors whirred. Plasma cannons hissed. His red, sensor-like eyes locked onto Laurick with mechanical precision.
"Laurick Andersson... Target reacquired," the Terminator intoned, lifting one massive arm lined with missile pods.
Laurick turned and bolted into the fog without thinking.
Heavy footsteps thundered behind him, the ground quaking with each mechanical stride.
Shapes shifted in the mist.
Ahead of him, a figure floated lazily downward—The Moon.
A vast, 500-meter-wide sphere of cracked, glowing stone hovered ominously, telepathy bleeding into the very air.
"You know you can't escape, little dreamer," the Moon murmured in his mind.
"You made us... and we are patient."
The mist near the Moon shimmered, warping like bent space.
Laurick veered sideways—only to nearly collide with a pink rectangle bobbing through the haze.
The Pink Cube, vibrating rapidly, began emitting high-pitched noises in bursts—morse code—that sounded almost like mocking laughter.
—.-. . .--. .-.. .- -.
Laurick didn't know morse code, but the way the sound grated against his ears made him wince in panic.
He stumbled over nothing—falling onto rough, cracked ground.
The mist cleared for a heartbeat, revealing towering pillars of jagged black stone.
Perched atop one of them was The Pteranodon, brilliant feathers bristling in the dead air.
It screeched in fury, a sound bizarrely similar to an angry Donald Duck, before diving at Laurick with its beak sharpened like a gleaming sword.
Laurick screamed and threw himself flat as the Pteranodon sliced through the space where his head had been.
It pulled up sharply, circling again like a vulture.
"Fight, coward!" it croaked, voice rasping with furious honor.
The ground trembled violently.
From the distance, molten cracks ripped open the earth.
A monstrous form rose, impossibly massive—the Volcano Monster—its body a writhing mass of molten rock and black smoke. Rivers of lava flowed through its arms as it let out a slow, bone-rattling growl.
Laurick scrambled backward.
There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.
The nightmare monsters were closing in, not all of them yet visible, but all of them waiting, savoring the moment.
"You can't run from us," whispered a voice—probably The Wizard, lurking unseen.
"You belong to us."
Terminator leveled his arm, plasma cannon charging.
The Moon loomed closer, distorting reality itself.
The Pteranodon screeched, ready to strike again.
Laurick curled into himself, hands over his head, waiting for the pain—
And then—
A soft giggle cut through the thick tension.
The mist stirred differently now.
From behind Laurick, a small figure stepped forward: a young girl—no older than eight—with long, straight black hair, wearing a simple dress that seemed woven from strands of silver and white light.
Her eyes sparkled mischievously.
In her tiny hand, she held a circular woven ring—like a dreamcatcher—but alive, its threads pulsing with gentle energy.
The monsters froze—hesitating.
The girl smiled sweetly at Laurick and said:
"Don't worry. I'm here to help."
The mist shuddered violently as Terminator's cannon misfired, the Moon recoiled slightly, and even the Pteranodon faltered mid-dive.
Laurick stared at the girl—hope warring with disbelief—as the dream shifted around him.
For a heartbeat, everything was silent.
The mist churned, the dream-world trembling with tension.
The Moon floated high above, cracks glowing hotter as beams of pure light charged within its core.
The Terminator clanked forward, every weapon system engaged.
The Pteranodon circled with a screech of bloodlust.
The Volcano Monster rumbled, lava spilling from its fists.
They all converged with one united goal: erase the intruder.
The Dreamcatcher girl stood before them—tiny, fragile-looking, a giggling slip of silver light.
And she smiled.
"Come and get me!"
The Moon struck first.
A searing laser beam lanced downward, splitting the dream-fog apart like a blade through silk.
It tore toward the Dreamcatcher at the speed of thought—deadly, unstoppable.
She sidestepped playfully, spinning once, and the beam struck the ground behind her, vaporizing stone into nothingness.
The Terminator fired next.
Twin missiles streaked toward her, whistling with lethal precision.
The Dreamcatcher clapped her hands—and the missiles bent midair, twirling like dancers before harmlessly exploding far behind her in showers of colorful sparks.
"You're going to have to try harder!" she chirped.
With a furious scream, The Pteranodon dived.
It tucked its wings and hurtled toward her at Mach speed, its sword-like beak gleaming.
At the last moment, the Dreamcatcher bent backwards in an impossible, fluid motion, letting the Pteranodon slice past her so close that it ruffled her hair.
She caught the tip of its tail between two fingers and spun the massive creature like a toy, sending it crashing into a craggy stone pillar.
"Oopsie!" she said with a giggle.
The ground erupted as the Volcano Monster lunged, both molten fists crashing down where she stood.
An explosion of lava and shattered earth roared through the dreamscape—
—but when the smoke cleared, the Dreamcatcher was balancing on one foot atop the Volcano Monster's broad shoulder, completely unharmed.
She poked his rocky head with a single finger.
"Tag!"
A surge of bright light exploded from her touch, sending the Volcano Monster toppling onto his back, groaning and sinking partially into molten ground.
The Moon howled telepathically, gathering light in a massive sphere above itself—a miniature sun—ready to annihilate the entire dream.
The Pink Cube floated closer, emitting high-pitched morse code in a frenzied warning—
—But the Dreamcatcher simply blew a kiss at the Cube.
It vibrated suspiciously, then backed away.
The Dreamcatcher stuck out her tongue at it.
"Grumpy block!"
Meanwhile, The Wizard emerged from the mist, hurling green lightning bolts that snaked through the air like vipers, aiming for her legs and arms.
But the Dreamcatcher danced around them, laughing as each strike narrowly missed. She plucked one bolt from the air like a ribbon and tied it into a glowing green bow.
The Man with Long Green Hair charged next, summoning twisted trees and animate rocks to block her escape.
The Dreamcatcher twirled once—and the summoned environment withered instantly into dust, as if rejecting the Nightmare's command.
"Your tricks are too gloomy!" she sang.
Laurick watched all of this—speechless.
Never, not once, had he seen anyone stand against the Nightmare Monsters.
They were fear incarnate.
They were invincible.
And yet, this tiny, glowing girl was toying with them—laughing, spinning, winning—with a casual grace that shattered everything Laurick thought he knew.
High above, The Moon screamed in fury and released the miniature sun, a bomb of pure destruction falling toward the battlefield.
The light burned so brightly that it cast shadows inside the dreamworld.
Laurick threw up his arms instinctively, expecting obliteration.
The Dreamcatcher smiled softly, raised one hand—and with a single flick of her wrist, a glowing woven shield of dream-threads spun into existence overhead.
The sun struck it—
—and was swallowed whole, crumbling into harmless glittering dust.
All the Nightmare Monsters staggered back, stunned.
The Pteranodon flapped weakly, trying to stay aloft.
The Terminator rebooted its weapon systems frantically.
The Wizard prepared another spell, slower now, more cautious.
But it was too late.
The Dreamcatcher floated above the ground, her silver dress flowing like a banner of light.
She pointed at the Nightmare Monsters one by one.
"Tag, you're it!"
Threads of shining dreamstuff shot out from her fingers, wrapping each Nightmare Monster in glowing binds, forcing them to their knees—or wheels, or wings.
Their powers sputtered and sparked uselessly against the bindings.
The entire battlefield froze.
Laurick's mouth dropped open.
She had defeated them. All of them.
And she hadn't even broken a sweat.
The Dreamcatcher landed lightly beside Laurick, grinning.
She placed a hand gently on his chest.
"You're stronger than you think," she whispered. "You just needed someone to believe it first."
The dreamworld, once so hostile, had shifted.
The mist was softer now, tinged with warm silver hues. The jagged stones had become rolling hills of sparkling mist. A river of stars flowed quietly nearby.
Laurick walked alongside the Dreamcatcher, feeling lighter than he had in years.
She looked different now—still unmistakably her, but older. No longer a small child, but a young woman about Laurick's own age, her silver dress now fitting her new, graceful figure. Her hair flowed longer, catching the light with every step.
She smiled at him, a quiet, understanding smile.
Laurick's heart stumbled in his chest.
Why does she feel so… real? So alive?
Even knowing she was an artificial being, a creation of human and quirk-engineered dreams, he couldn't stop the warmth rising inside him.
He glanced at her as they walked, struggling to say something—anything.
"Thank you," he said at last, voice low. "You saved me."
The Dreamcatcher tilted her head, laughing softly like the sound of wind chimes.
"You don't have to thank me, silly. Protecting you... that's my entire purpose."
Laurick smiled awkwardly, looking away, cheeks burning.
The Dreamcatcher caught his glance—caught the meaning—but said nothing.
Instead, she just walked closer to him, their hands almost brushing together as they moved through the dreamscape.
Far away, hidden behind a jagged ridge, the Nightmare Monsters gathered.
The Moon floated above, its light dimmer and more chaotic.
The Volcano Monster rumbled low and dangerous.
The Pteranodon paced like a restless beast.
The Wizard leaned on his gnarled staff, green lightning flickering between his fingers.
All of them watched the Dreamcatcher and Laurick.
And they hated what they saw.
"She's making him stronger," growled The Man with Long Green Hair, grinding his knuckles into the rocky ground.
"She's severing the fear," muttered The Wizard, bitter.
Fear was their lifeblood—their chain to Laurick's soul. Without it, they were prisoners in a dream they could no longer control.
The Detective, twirling a small gadget between his fingers, finally spoke.
"Maybe we don't have to fight her head-on," he said, voice sharp as glass.
"Maybe we just have to remove her... anchor."
The others leaned in.
A dark plan began to take shape.
Elsewhere – Inside Pringelina's Nightmare
Black mist rolled across an endless white void.
Pringelina stood alone—barefoot, confused, the ground cold beneath her feet.
Suddenly, he appeared.
Laurick—but not Laurick.
This version stood tall, confident, a devilish glint in his crimson eyes. His black hair was slicked back neatly, and he wore an immaculate white suit embroidered with gold patterns, sharp and regal like a nobleman from some other world.
He walked toward her, hands calmly folded behind his back, a polite smile curving his lips.
"Hello, Pringelina," he said, voice smooth and mocking. "We meet properly at last."
Pringelina's instincts screamed.
She charged him without thinking, summoning a deep breath to launch her enhanced body forward with all the force she could muster.
In an instant, the evil Laurick side-stepped her effortlessly, grabbing her wrist mid-lunge and twisting her arm behind her back.
"Tch—!" Pringelina grunted, struggling.
It was useless.
He was toying with her.
He leaned close, whispering in her ear:
"You want to destroy me, don't you?"
Pringelina thrashed, but he released her abruptly, letting her stumble forward.
She spun around, snarling.
But he simply smiled, reaching into his jacket to pull out a tiny replica of Laurick's Dreamcatcher.
He held it between two fingers casually.
"You want a real task?" he said. "Break this. Shatter the Dreamcatcher. Only then will your real mission begin."
Pringelina stared at it, confused.
"Why?" she demanded.
But Evil Laurick simply turned away, his image shimmering and fading into the mist.
Meanwhile – Dundal
Smoke rose into the gray sky.
The town of Dundal was a ruin.
Entire sections of the town center had collapsed, buildings shredded like paper. Cars lay overturned. Asphalt was split open into yawning cracks.
Helligdal, the mighty Guardian of Light, lay battered and unconscious on a stretcher, being wheeled into an emergency helicopter. His silver armor was cracked, his golden cape torn. Even his aura of Divine Protection had not been enough.
The task force assigned to him—once optimistic and proud—stood grim-faced, bruised and defeated.
They hadn't even seen the villain clearly.
Only the aftermath of his passing.
The police chief spoke to the press with a stone face.
"Residents of Dundal are ordered to evacuate immediately."
"The structural damage poses an imminent landslide threat."
"We cannot guarantee anyone's safety here anymore."
The hospital filled with the wounded.
And somewhere out there, in the icy wilds south of Folgefonna...
The villain had vanished.