“What, what is this? When did you even get here?!”
Julia pressed a hand against her chest as if she had just seen a ghost in broad daylight.
Clara only let out a fluttering laugh.
That made Julia flush with embarrassment for no reason.
Julia, who always acted prim and proper even before her Master, now having let slip her true feelings, could not help but feel overwhelmed with shame.
“Oh my. Our youngest is worrying about her Master, eh?”
“Feels like just yesterday she was a little child, now she’s all grown up, all grown.”
As the seniors around her added their own comments, Julia lowered her head deeply.
Clara watched her fondly, then spoke.
“All right. Enough teasing. Let’s move on to something more substantial.”
At Clara’s words, even the Dreamwalkers who had been jesting nodded in agreement.
Thus, at the meeting point, the ones who led their groups gathered together.
“It’s truly an honor to meet the famous Dream Master in person. I am Elisa Willow, Headmaster of Seorn.”
“Hoho. The fame of a beautiful lady such as yourself has reached even my weary ears. I am Clara Cowen, Master of the Dream School.”
“I’ll be direct. Do you believe this incident can be resolved?”
A blunt question.
Instead of answering, Clara lifted her staff and pointed.
From the tip of her staff flowed dream essence, molding like clay into a rough map of Dreamland.
Everyone fixed their gaze on the sight.
“Honestly, I haven’t the faintest idea how to resolve this.”
These words came from none other than the Master of the Dream School and a Dreamwalker of Master rank.
Naturally, the weight of those words pressed heavily upon everyone.
Yet no one spoke out against Clara.
In such a situation, it was more important to acknowledge the reality they faced than to inject hollow encouragement.
“The upper layer has completely collapsed. What remains is the middle layer, but even that is being devoured by the Island-Swallower from above.”
Even now, the Island-Swallower was descending in real time.
It intended to leave no island above their heads intact.
Though they had dealt with several along the way, at best that had bought only a short reprieve.
“The number of casualties is considerable. Many of those who fell into the middle layer have lost their lives.”
Of course, fewer than five percent of the hundred who had fallen had perished.
Considering the environment of the middle layer, such a survival rate was nothing short of miraculous.
Yet even five percent was not a small number.
The entire population of Rederbelk had been swept into this disaster.
Five percent of that meant tens of thousands dead.
“On top of that, those monsters that called themselves his servants appeared. We managed to suppress them, but there’s no guarantee more won’t show up.”
There was no way back, and life-threatening dangers lurked everywhere in real time.
Listing out the situation point by point made it seem all the more hopeless.
“In the end, we must resolve the root cause quickly.”
“That old man, Nirva... Do you know anything about him?”
Clara nodded.
“There are records of him in the Dream School’s ancient manuscripts. The Hook-nosed Old Man. A ghost who scatters golden dust to put people to sleep. By other names, Sandman, or Yon Blunt.”
Though he bore many names, his origin was always the same: the hook-nosed old man with long limbs.
“The truth is, that old man is a demon who has existed on this continent since ancient times.”
“...A demon.”
Tales of demons were no longer mere legends of the distant past.
Even the recent events in the capital of the Exilion Empire had been rumored to be the work of a demon.
Judging by the witnesses’ testimonies, it was not so easily dismissed as nonsense.
Still, for such a demon to cause this in Seorn of all places—
“What could his purpose be?”
Elisa thought of Nirva.
That old man had invited people into the world of dreams.
But for what? To imprison them in dreams forever?
Yet his act of sending servants to eliminate dangerous elements contradicted that.
It didn’t quite add up.
“I don’t know either. But since it is the work of a dream demon, it must be something extraordinary.”
“......”
Elisa fell into thought.
Nirva was openly luring people deeper into Dreamland.
It was not a simple invitation, but more like forcibly shoving them inside.
And he wasn’t welcoming all—he actively removed dangerous elements.
But why?
If a dream demon wielded absolute power within Dreamland, what could possibly worry him enough to act this way?
Suddenly.
A thought flashed through Elisa’s mind.
“Sacrifice.”
At that word, all eyes turned to her.
“When it comes to demons, sacrifices mean human offerings.”
It was an instinctive answer.
Her logic had leapt over dozens of stepping stones to arrive there.
Ordinarily, one would retrace the whole reasoning to prove it. That was what any mage should do.
But now was an emergency.
Elisa chose to trust her intuition.
“That demon Nirva is most likely trying to offer us as sacrifices to Dreamland.”
* * *
“Sacrifices?”
At the same time.
Standing before a massive gate, Sedina asked Ludger.
“Yes. What Nirva wants is sacrifices. His goal is to awaken the being that slumbers in the Depths.”
“A being a demon seeks to awaken... Is it some sort of heretic god?”
“Something like that. I don’t know if it is a heretic god, but it is certainly something akin to one.”
At the talk of a demon seeking to resurrect a god, the group’s expressions turned dazed.
The scale was so immense it barely felt real.
“This isn’t a dream, right?”
“Idiot. This is Dreamland, of course it’s a dream.”
“Right.”
“No, but it’s reality at the same time, isn’t it? I don’t know anymore.”
Hans and Seridan exchanged their nonsensical chatter.
But no one rebuked them.
Their heads were spinning. Without venting stress this way, they couldn’t bear it.
“Most likely Nirva will push us deeper into Dreamland. That’s why he’s collapsing it from the outside in.”
“Because only by forcing us inward can he draw out energy from people. Naturally, that energy must be the dream essence humans possess.”
“But to do that, he must call them into his innermost chamber. To conduct a proper ritual means also exposing his weakness.”
“So he sent his minions to eliminate potential disruptions.”
Zantman nodded as if understanding why Nirva acted that way.
Eliminating a few troublemakers was no big deal.
After all, an entire city’s worth of people were now inside Dreamland.
Killing a few among them would hardly be noticed.
If all these people were to be sacrifices, then surely even a god—or whatever else—could be revived.
“Normally, black mages perform human sacrifices to summon demons. But this time it’s even worse—the demon himself is sacrificing humans to resurrect a god. Truly an age of decline.”
“Which means our fight will have to be a race against time.”
“A race... meaning we must stop it before the ritual is complete.”
“Nirva has already sent his servants. They failed. Here we are alive. Next, he will act himself.”
“For a demon who commands monsters like those giant constructs to step in personally... Just hearing it makes my beard shiver.”
“And we are heading straight into his jaws faster than anyone.”
That was the point of Ludger’s words.
Was Zantman all right with standing in the most dangerous lead position?
Zantman understood the meaning.
“Are you worrying about me now?”
“Once I gave you the Rip Van Winkle, your role was done. Returning to your School members wouldn’t be a bad choice.”
“Teacher, I didn’t take you for one to jab at people’s hearts like this.”
Zantman grinned at Ludger.
The wrinkles around his eyes told his age, but his eyes themselves did not.
They shone brighter than any star.
“Do you know why we are called the Dream School?”
“Why?”
“Because we chase dreams. We walk upon them, explore them, and at the end, we pursue them still.”
“Poetic.”
“Exactly. Poetic, romantic, unrealistic. Who chases romance in this day and age?”
He added,
“Except for us.”
Ludger looked at him with surprise.
“Unexpected?”
“To be honest, yes.”
“To fight demons and prevent the resurrection of a god—what could be more romantic? Not just me, all of us would choose the same. They’ll envy that I’m at the forefront.”
Zantman smiled like a child given a present.
Ludger realized for the first time that even at that age, a man could smile so purely.
He had to acknowledge it.
These were people who fought not for gain, but for honor and romance.
Perhaps noticing Ludger’s gaze, Zantman waved his hand with mock annoyance.
“Not that I don’t have personal reasons too. Remember the wooden effigies we passed?”
Ludger nodded.
Praying statues. Dream-ghouls consumed by Dreamland.
He could easily have ended up among their ranks.
“Who do you think those people who ended up here were?”
“...The former Dreamwalkers.”
“Exactly. In the past, when Dreamwalkers roamed Dreamland, they always faced peril.”
Zantman looked down at the Siesta glove on his hand.
“They didn’t have things like this back then. They trusted only their sheer mental strength and plunged in with their bare selves.”
But no matter how skilled a Dreamwalker was, Dreamland never let them go free.
The more times they entered, the more they were consumed, until at last they became dream-ghouls.
“Those ones gathered in prayer are people who collapsed under their own wishes. But I can’t laugh at them. I respect them. Because of their effort and sacrifice, we are here now.”
Ludger too looked at the Rip Van Winkle he wore.
How many Dreamwalkers had sacrificed themselves to create even this one tool?
The foundation was the vast data of Dreamland, but that data was only what Dreamwalkers had suffered and experienced firsthand.
“The forebears went through such things, ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) yet if their juniors retreat in fear, that would be disgraceful.”
Zantman’s joining was welcome news to Ludger.
“Good. We’ll need an excellent guide if we’re to move forward anyway.”
“Exactly. Leave the pathfinding to me.”
Zantman strode forward.
The massive stone gate slowly opened.
Considering its size, it should have made a thunderous noise, yet it opened in utter silence.
Beyond the open gate was pure darkness.
Nothing could be seen within, and the fear of the unknown pressed strongly upon them.
“Stay sharp. If you lose your grip here, your own mind will consume you.”
At Zantman’s warning, Hans and Sedina stiffened.
“Then, let’s go.”
Zantman stepped in, disappearing into the gate’s darkness.
Ludger followed right after.
Hans, Sedina, and Seridan moved with them.
As the group vanished inside, the massive stone gate closed silently as if nothing had happened.
* * *
The middle layer of Dreamland was the largest and most dominant.
And the further down one went, the higher the Dream Pressure rose, and the more distorted time became against reality.
That was why it was divided into upper, middle, and lower sections.
The deeper it went, the sharper the rise in danger.
Naturally, some form of distinction was necessary.
The upper section was where ordinary people could endure at most—an endless sky filled with countless floating islands.
The middle section was where skilled Dreamwalkers could bear it—a white world, black meadows, and dream-ghouls.
And the lower section was a place only a very few Dreamwalkers could reach.
To their surprise, it was a sight even the mundane world would find familiar.
“A library?”
Ludger voiced his impression at the lower scenery of the middle layer.
Hans and Sedina were just as shocked. Even Seridan let out a “Wow.”
Then, something like black mud slid out from between the bookshelves toward them.