He could not understand when he had ended up being trapped.
No, perhaps from the very beginning, they had been fighting inside this hourglass.
That was not the important part now.
The sand pouring down like a waterfall from above was gradually filling the bottom, raising its level.
Before he realized it, the sand that had risen to his ankles crossed his calves and reached his waist.
“D-damn!”
Sedina tried to create a tree, but the dream-sand made it impossible.
The plants she managed to produce were swallowed back by the sand and decomposed on the spot.
Now that Nirva’s antlion trap had collapsed, there was no way to escape on their own.
“Forgive me. I dragged you into this for nothing.”
Zantman apologized to Sedina.
If only he, an elder, had fought better, she would not have ended up like this.
“No. This happened because I was greedy.”
But even with regret, no method to overcome the situation came to mind.
Most of their strength had already been spent.
“Buried in sand, you will repent your actions bitterly.”
From outside the hourglass, Nirva sneered.
By now the sand had risen past their chests and up to their necks.
Even if they tried to struggle with their arms, the pressure of the sand pinned them immovably.
Just as their vision was about to be buried in darkness beneath the sand—
What Sedina saw was a distant pink flash.
Kwaang!
With an explosion, the entire hourglass shook violently.
The glass shattered, and the sand spilled outward.
As the sand drained away like ebbing tide, Sedina and Zantman could finally gasp for the breath they had held back.
On Zantman’s face, once stained with despair, spread a smile full of delight.
“You idiots. You’re late!”
Along with his shout, a group with green wings spread wide came flying from afar.
“Zantman! Old man! You still alive?”
“Damn brat! Your life sure clings tight! Khahaha!”
Seeing his comrades jeering at him from the distance as they flew closer, Zantman roared back.
“You bastards! What took you so long! I almost crossed to the other side!”
“That’s why we came to help. What are you griping about?”
Through the broken walls of the hourglass, winged Dream School mages approached, reaching out their hands.
Zantman clasped those hands with a smiling face.
Then the hourglass vanished in a whoosh like a mirage.
Thanks to his comrades, Zantman was safe. But Sedina was not.
“Ah.”
Sedina plummeted into the desert quicksand below.
It happened so suddenly that the other Dreamwalkers reacted too slowly.
Within the flow of slow time, Sedina stretched her hand toward the sky—
As if wishing for someone to seize it.
And miraculously—
A shadow with pure white wings caught hold of Sedina’s frail body in the nick of time.
Sedina’s eyes widened as she looked at the one who had come to save her.
“Julia...?”
“I came to save you.”
Seeing Julia holding her like a princess, Sedina burst into tears she had been desperately holding back.
Though she had forced herself to be brave, she could not shake off the terror of death at the final moment.
“I-I thought I was going to die!”
As Sedina clung tightly around her neck, Julia gave a helpless smile.
“......I had not wished for such a situation to come.”
Nirva shook his head as he looked at the Dreamwalkers.
The process of regaining his strength had completely gone to waste.
If it had only been Zantman, perhaps. But once Sedina Roschen interfered, everything had unraveled.
Flash!
Once again, a pink flash erupted in the distance.
That attack again.
The magic that had shattered the hourglass [N O V E L I G H T] he had created.
Nirva summoned dream-sand to form an octagonal shield.
It was the same shield that had blocked the Grand Librarian’s assault. Against power of this level, it should have been easy to stop.
But just before the pink ray struck the shield, it split into dozens of beams.
The light bypassed the shield and battered Nirva’s antechamber.
Pabababoom!
Pink magical explosions flared one after another in the air.
As Nirva barely slipped aside through the blasts, a hunched old crone had already approached within arm’s reach.
In that instant, in the slowed flow of time, Clara Cowen’s and Nirva’s gazes clashed in the void.
“Do you remember who I am, Nirva?”
“Clara Cowen.”
At the same moment Nirva spoke her name, Clara swung her staff.
A green dream-blade condensed at its tip fell toward his collarbone.
Nirva thrust out his hand and seized the blade.
Kagagagak!
As Nirva’s palm clashed with the dream-blade, sparks scattered.
The pure white glove he wore tore, and wounds opened in his palm.
Just like the stab wound he had once received from Ludger, golden blood trickled from the gash.
With a scowl, Nirva summoned more dream-sand.
Pillars of sand surged from the ground, striking toward Clara, but the Dreamwalkers gave covering fire.
Green blasts of mana rained from the sky and smashed into the sand pillars.
In the meantime, Clara retreated to safety.
Watching Nirva’s injured right hand, she spoke.
“So, you bleed as well. You’ve grown weak.”
Had he been in his prime, it would have been impossible for her to wound him.
That was how far Nirva had declined.
“Well done, Zantman. You endured bravely.”
“Che. This old hag. Coming when it’s all nearly over just to show off.”
Though he grumbled, Zantman’s smile did not fade.
He had resigned himself to death, but now he was still alive. That alone was fortune.
His sacrifice to buy time had not been in vain.
And the reinforcements were not only Dreamwalkers.
In the distance, another pink flash flared.
Nirva frowned.
Again. Again that bombardment.
“The Headmaster of Seorn. Elisa Willow.”
He had seen the woman once in reality, and afterward paid her little mind.
Even if she had entered Dreamland, he had not considered her worth his concern.
“Has she grown stronger as she descended deeper?”
Through many battles, Elisa had gained experience, and compared to when she had first fallen into Dreamland, she had matured beyond recognition.
Indeed, she had not reached 6th-circle magic at a young age for nothing. She swiftly adapted to Dreamland’s environment.
Now the attacks Elisa Willow fired contained dream essence.
She had met the Dreamwalkers and learned from them how to wield dream essence.
To be taught by another was something Elisa had not experienced in an extremely long time.
But her innate talent made her absorb the teachings swiftly.
From afar, Elisa perceived Nirva’s muttering and chuckled as she issued orders.
“It’s not only me, is it? Everyone? Begin.”
Behind her, the lined-up teachers all unleashed their spells at once.
A spectacle of magic ripping through the sky.
Seeing this, Nirva raised a towering sand wall.
Spells blazed upon the massive wall of sand.
The teachers of Seorn who had come this far bombarded Nirva relentlessly from beyond the desert.
Had Nirva been at full power, he would have laughed such attacks off.
But now he could not afford such ease.
‘If only I had time to recover.’
The thought was bitter, but his mind quickly shifted.
Pffshh!
Each time the magic struck the sand wall, the sturdy dream-sand crumbled and collapsed visibly.
The force was unmistakably beyond what Seorn’s teachers had originally shown.
‘All of them have grown stronger.’
The teachers of Seorn were each skilled and talented in their own right.
Though slightly underestimated for teaching young students, they were people respected across the continent.
And now, having received the Dreamwalkers’ counsel, they had temporarily mastered handling dream essence.
This was no situation to belittle or ignore.
‘Even if I had recovered strength in that short span, victory could not have been certain.’
Nirva frowned.
Above the crumbling wall, figures with green wings came into view.
The Dreamwalkers of the Dream School.
From blind spots the wall could not block, they struck.
Dream-forged spells rained down upon him.
It was like watching a local downpour of green rain.
Though Nirva stacked layer upon layer of dream-sand barriers, he could not fully resist the immense tide.
His body plummeted into the desert below.
Rising to his feet, Nirva looked down at himself.
The neat suit he wore was smeared with the sand he had conjured.
His clothes were ragged and torn, and his body bore even two new wounds.
Though the wounds healed quickly, the blood already spilled did not return.
“......What a pitiful sight I am.”
Nirva searched his memories.
Had he ever once been driven to such a corner?
Never, without question.
“As the faithful servant of the Goddess, to be reduced to this.”
Exhausted, wounded.
His appearance was wretched.
What humiliated him most of all was that this state was the result of humans he had scorned as weaker than his former self.
“At this rate, when the Goddess awakens, I will have no face to show.”
Nirva slowly lifted his head.
The deep-sky above—purple, dark blue, and black intermingled.
Stars gleamed brightly there, falling toward him.
Stars filled with killing intent, fired by humans trying to finish him.
Yet Nirva’s gaze did not stop there but looked beyond.
The dream energy extracted from humans who had fallen into Dreamland.
It was floating in the sky, gathering toward the obelisk.
Time was still needed for the Goddess to awaken.
But if he were to fall here, even that would be meaningless.
“Goddess.”
Nirva shed tears.
From his golden eyes flowed tears black as omen.
“Do not forgive my disloyalty. Do not overlook your servant daring to lay hands upon what must be offered to you.”
Nirva stretched out his hand.
Toward the sky.
Toward the massive current of energy.
“What the hell? Why is he doing that all of a sudden?”
“Is he trying something?”
The Seorn teachers far off could not see, but the Dreamwalkers saw it clearly.
As everyone faltered at Nirva’s sudden strange action, the one who felt the crisis first was Clara Cowen.
“Everyone! Pour your attacks at him, now!”
Clara sensed Nirva was about to do something.
She did not know what exactly, but if not stopped now, something irreversible would occur.
The Dreamwalkers did not ignore Clara’s warning.
With grim faces, they poured attacks toward Nirva.
But Nirva did not defend.
Even as their magic struck his body, he paid it no mind, focusing only on the massive energy.
Dream-spells hit him, tearing his clothes, opening wounds, splattering blood.
He felt no small pain, but Nirva endured like a devout believer accepting penance, without a twitch of expression.
“That bastard’s insane!”
The Dreamwalkers grew all the more anxious.
Especially Sedina, whose terror reached its peak.
The Nirva who had always looked down on everything was now acting utterly different.
It was not despair.
Not surrender either.
Nirva, in his own way, had prepared for a sacrifice.
‘We weren’t the only ones desperate!’
The battle shifted.
From the great flow of dream energy in the sky, a portion slithered toward Nirva like a flicking tongue.
All gazed in aghast silence at the sight.
Though they knew they had to stop it, none dared wedge themselves into that colossal energy.
The dream energy touched Nirva’s fingertips.
Like a broken dam bursting, the flow rushed into his body.
“Ohh.”
Nirva opened his battered mouth.
“Oooohhhh!”
A vast power surged inside him.
Like a man who had not drunk water for days stumbling upon an oasis, Nirva savagely indulged in the energy.
Even knowing it was an offering meant for the Goddess, he could not stop.
Instead, the very sense of betrayal fanned his hunger.
Nirva’s body transformed as he absorbed the dream energy.
All his wounds closed, and even his suit was restored as though freshly pressed.
Boom!
A fierce shockwave burst out from Nirva.
Swept up, the desert sand surged like a tide, rolling into a vast wave spreading outward in concentric rings.
“A tidal wave!”
“Fall back, everyone!”
Elisa stepped forward and raised a barrier.
As Seorn’s teachers cut off support fire, Nirva targeted the Dreamwalkers.
“You. You’re flying too high.”
Nirva brought his hands together as if to take a photograph, trapping the Dreamwalkers.
It looked like mere mocking hand-play, but the result was not.
When Nirva lowered his hands, a picture was clasped in his grip.
And within that picture appeared the Dreamwalkers flying beneath the deep sky.
“Now our eyes are at the same level.”