"It’s this," Nieve said, showing Eren a red metal card. Written in embossed white letters was her full name at the center.
The emblem of the United Governments, a globe with a wreath of hands as its halo, was faded in the background, acting as an official seal for the identification card.
On the bottom of her name, a title: [Licensed Awakener — Healthcare sector], as well as the date the card was commissioned, which was less than one year ago.
"I didn’t cry when I got my license. I just wondered when I’d get to save people." A wistful tone. "I’m wondering still."
She gripped her license tightly. Kept it in a lanyard hidden underneath her uniform for safekeeping. This piece of identification was important for her. Important for all Awakeners, he realized.
"Do I need to get a License like that?"
"If you want to work with Phantoms and Awakeners, yes. It’s for everyone’s safety.
Most of the time, ignorance and overconfidence cause more damage than Phantoms. So, the United Governments created the Awakener License.
Without it, you can’t hunt Phantoms. You can’t accept Awakener jobs. You can’t do anything related to Psions.
It’s a good rule in my opinion. We’ve seen a lot of casualties come through our doors caused by well-intentioned civilians trying to fight against Phantoms they have no business fighting."
There were no licenses where Eren came from. Death was treated with more of a practical point of view. They called it natural selection if a mortal wanted to fight a monster by himself.
"The License exam is grueling, but it’s worth it," said Nieve. "A lot of people become super successful through bounties and missions. The United Governments is generous in that regard.
And if you want to become independent, you can earn a lot through selling Phantom materials. Most of them become really famous too."
Sure enough, Eren saw a great example of it as the TV flashed and went to a series of commercial advertisements.
A dashing young man, wearing gilded golden armor, held his helm on one hand, and an energy drink in the other.
"I can’t start missions until I’ve had my shot of Psionergizer!" He cleaved a Phantom while taking a drink.
Next, a woman, beautiful and fair and lithe, was seen in a handsome and sleek sports car. It was the image of casual luxury, even as a horde of Phantoms chased her from behind.
"Triton Automobiles. Your best partner in the worst of times," a narrator said before the woman drove off into the sunset.
Then, a family in grave danger, a red portal manifesting right in front of their gates. These mortal civilians showed no sign of terror as the father pushed a button on his smartphone.
A few seconds later, a squad car with the United Governments’ emblem on its hood pulled up to the street. The Awakeners got out of the car and saved the family in no time.
"Switch to R-mobile now. You won’t regret it."
Eren watched these ads half in disbelief and half in amusement. So much for being in an apocalypse, he thought.
As expected of humanity, they’d adapted to living in horror quite well. No one could stop them living in luxury or indulging in their opulence and greed. Not even these Phantoms, it seemed.
This was all thanks, he guessed, to the Awakeners keeping Phantoms at bay. They afforded humanity their splendor and extravagance even in the face of extinction. And in turn, they were compensated with fame, wealth, and power.
Nieve was right. Becoming a Licensed Awakener looked worth it. They’d become the equivalent of actors and musicians and superstars, getting paid exorbitant amounts of money just to appear on screen for a few seconds. Except, they actually contributed something valuable to the world.
Yet as Eren continued to watch on, he couldn’t help but feel insulted.
Luxuries, extravagances... they were nothing more than distractions in the path of cultivation.
These Awakeners weren’t real cultivators. They were dilettantes. Posers. They forsake focus and discipline for material gain.
He wouldn’t be like that. He couldn’t be. Shouldn’t.
But as much as he wanted to seclude himself in a mountain and just cultivate, he knew that he had to interact with this world one way or another. Awakeners held the clue to the answers he’d been seeking.
He stared at Nieve’s license. It had Ræzoň embedded into the metal. An advanced form of security. Can’t be forged.
If he wanted to find more information about the world at large, he’d have to get a License himself. It’d be too inconvenient not to.
Independence, ironically, came through having his name boxed into a little metal card.
He gave the license back to Nieve, and after letting her prick him with needles for practice, she left him alone to rest.
He didn’t sleep until after midnight.
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Eren awoke in a cold sweat. An instinctual fear in his body excited him into sitting upright, looking around in a panic.
"...oh..."
The artificial light of the lamp beside him gave the left side of his face a lambent glow. He’s still in the hospital. He’s still back here on Earth.
He looked at his hands. Clammy and sweaty and bony, but healthy. Not crippled.
Sleeping had been the hardest thing to do since he returned to this world. The apprehension, the fear of waking up and realizing this was all a dream. It made him prefer the agonizing pain of exercise over the tranquility of sleep.
Nightmare, more like it. He’d seen himself back in the cultivation world, back home, seeing everyone he knew gone. Their ghosts sang him lullabies.
He pressed the bell button on the side of his bed.
It was still 5 o’clock in the morning. The hospital was just starting to wake up from its slumber. Hushed conversations. Distant beeping. Announcements over the hospital intercom. But there was no doubt there’d be someone to answer his call.
The door opened a few minutes later, the light of the hallway seeping into his darkened room.
"Eren?" It was Nieve. "You’re awake already?"
She found him in his bed, already sitting up, already sweating.
"Did you get it?" he asked her.
She backed up onto the hallway, and reappeared pushing a wheelchair inside his room.