Franz’s eyes widened at Noxanna’s appearance.
So did everyone else’s.
The Goddess had revealed herself.
Not her true form, but an avatar fashioned in the likeness of a human.
And even that alone was undeniable proof that she was willing to converse.
“Child. So tell me—what is it you want of me?”
Noxanna smiled with maternal grace.
There was none of the scorn or mockery one might expect from a being addressing mere mortals.
It wasn’t simply that her thoughts were unreadable.
Her gaze was filled with the affection of a mother cherishing her children.
Affection.
Ludger let out a short, hollow laugh.
Indeed, gods were truly arbitrary beings.
Even her act of trying to drown the entire world in dreams—ultimately, that too was born from Noxanna’s love.
Divine love was like that.
So vast, so transcendent, that a human could scarcely comprehend it.
But that aside, now was the time to use the chance he had been given.
“Will you stop?”
“Stop?”
Noxanna tilted her head as if she did not understand what he wanted her to stop.
But she was still the Goddess of Dreams.
Almost immediately, she understood his meaning, and her lips curved with amused delight.
“You dislike dreams?”
“No one dislikes dreams. But a life spent only dreaming is not right.”
“Why not? In dreams you can gain eternal happiness and rest. No pain, no sorrow, no despair—perfect utopia. Isn’t that what your children have always longed for?”
Utopia.
Who in the world would turn it down?
Truthfully, Ludger himself would want to live in such a place—if it were truly possible.
But—
“Happiness that is simply granted is not true happiness.”
Opportunity and joy are not gifts.
They are things one must claim with their own hands.
“Living while leaning on such things—how is that any different from pigs being fattened in their pens?”
“A curious metaphor. But isn’t a pig’s happy life better?”
“We are human.”
“Indeed. That must be why you struggle so desperately. But do you think all humans believe as you do?”
No, of course not.
There were those like Ludger, who held to conviction without compromise.
And there were those who compromised each moment, seeking only peace and comfort at hand.
In fact, the latter were far more common.
To most of the world, Ludger was the anomaly.
“Could you tell a day laborer with no money for tomorrow’s meal, ‘Work hard and your dream will come true,’ and expect him to believe it?”
“......”
“Or to an orphan without parents—‘If you study diligently, you’ll grow into a fine adult’? Can you guarantee that?”
“......”
“Or as a teacher, surely you know this one. Can you tell a student with no talent for magic, ‘With effort, you can become a mage remembered in history’?”
You could not.
Because countless walls stood in the way of reality.
Only the fewest of the few could harvest the fruits of success.
But dreams were different.
There, anyone could become what they wished.
There, anyone could achieve what they longed for.
Perhaps the world Noxanna wished to create truly was the happiest world.
From a grand view, ask if it was right—most would answer yes.
“And yet—would happiness gained that way truly have value?”
Not everyone’s happiness could coexist at once.
Suppose one man wished to be the richest in the world. The Dreamland would grant him that wish.
But if another also wished to be the richest—then what?
If both held equal wealth, could either truly be the “richest”?
The same with relationships.
If a man dreamt of a beautiful woman’s love, the dream would give it.
But if that woman dreamt of loving another man—what then?
The only way to grant everyone happiness would be to seal them each in their own separate dream worlds.
Never meeting, never crossing, living apart in personal utopias.
But is that truly real?
Is happiness that comes from a dream where everything bends to your will truly genuine?
At first, yes, it would be joy.
But after?
Humans always desire more.
With a hundred, they want a thousand. With a thousand, they crave ten thousand.
Would endless indulgence in desire bring happiness?
No—such a world would give only endless ennui.
Desire and yearning would vanish.
Progress would cease.
In the end, the world Noxanna sought was not so different from the one Lumensis desired.
The cage would change shape—from aviary to fishbowl.
But still a cage.
“Child. You dislike such a world.”
“If buried in a life without lack, do you believe anyone could still feel the concept of want? It is precisely because something is missing, because we yearn, that we can feel fulfillment in attaining it.”
What worth is there in things received freely, without cost?
At first, perhaps pleasant—but soon people would tire.
“Yes. A life of unbroken happiness is near impossible. To gain it, one must castrate desire—or abandon happiness. But there would be no sorrow, would there not?”
“That is...”
“No grief. No pain. No despair. Here, none of it would touch you. You could forget hardship, correct your mistakes, heal every wound upon your heart.”
Noxanna walked gently toward him.
Her black hair fluttered, the tips dispersing like smoke.
“Would you not want that ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ too?”
Her white hand touched Ludger’s shoulder.
As softly, warmly, as a mother comforting her child.
“You’ve suffered so many wounds. Endured so much sorrow. Yet you never abandoned the struggle, never gave up facing the great fate that lies ahead—though you know not what awaits at the end.”
She smiled tenderly, as if proud of him.
“Well done.”
The genuine praise seeped into Ludger’s heart.
“No child like you has ever existed before. You’ve worked so hard, done so well. But how long can that last? That is what I fear.”
“No one knows.”
“Yes. Not even I, Goddess of Dreams, can see that far. But must you truly go on carrying those wounds?”
Regret flickered in her voice.
To one who embraced mortals with compassion, Ludger’s stubbornness to bear wounds must have been painful to see.
So she wished to enfold him, to heal his broken body.
Of course, the fact that he bore the qualifications of the [Grail] was no small part.
But her kindness itself was sincere.
“I can erase your past. Every failure, every wound, every sorrow. I can heal them all.”
Ludger knew she meant it.
That made him grateful—and for a moment, shaken.
Perhaps this was the best choice.
Later, looking back, he might wish to return to this moment.
Even so—
“No.”
The hand on his shoulder flinched.
“Why not?”
“Because all of that is me.”
He lowered his gaze to his hand.
Beneath the [Rip Van Winkle] glove, it was calloused and scarred.
But Ludger did not see it simply as it was.
That hand bore blood.
That hand had let slip precious things.
A hand that had foolishly lost, and remained empty.
“My failures, my grief, my wounds—all of them made me who I am.”
Clench.
He closed his fist, eyes burning as he stared at Noxanna.
“So I thank you. But I refuse.”
“I see.”
Noxanna’s eyes lowered, subdued.
She withdrew her hand, turned her back, and walked away slowly.
“Child. You mean to fight to the end? Against me?”
“Yes.”
“Against one far greater than you? One who could slaughter you all with but a finger?”
“Even so, I will not stop.”
“I see.”
Her back turned, her face unseen.
But Ludger thought—he could almost feel her smiling.
Why, he did not know. It was just a sense.
‘But Noxanna, who sought to break free of her seal, won’t stop just for these words.’
He readied the final sealing art he had prepared.
And then—the Goddess’s true body moved.
“Wh-what...?”
Franz gasped for breath as the crushing pressure lifted.
The overwhelming force that threatened to choke them was utterly gone.
It wasn’t that he didn’t know—he knew she had withdrawn her own power.
The dream-sand that had stretched beyond Lederbelk into the nearby cities halted.
And as if time reversed, the sand receded back toward Lederbelk.
“It... stopped?”
“No—look, it’s flowing back!”
Those fighting the constructs saw it too.
Teachers and Dreamwalkers guarding the failing warships blinked in confusion as the creatures retreated.
“This... how can this be? Why? Why?!”
Nirva, bloodied and sprawled on the deck, cried in despair.
“My Goddess! Why abandon the Grand Plan now, when it is within reach?!”
He had believed without doubt.
That the awakened Noxanna would finally reclaim authority from Lumensis.
That all the world would be buried in dream-sand, all people forever happy.
But with just one step left—she chose to stop.
Opposite of when she had struggled to break free from the Obelisk, she now curled up, resting her chin upon her arms.
The Goddess of Dreams, who had awoken,
fell once more into a dream—one from which no one knew when she would awaken.
“This cannot... cannot be!”
Nirva poured out his last strength, wings beating as he rose into the sky.
Eyes wild, he glared at the Dreamwalkers, then fled with frantic flaps.
“That chicken-headed bastard is running away!”
The Dreamwalkers could only watch him go.
They wanted nothing more than to cut him down, but exhaustion weighed them to the bone.
More important than the fleeing Nirva was the fact that Noxanna had returned to slumber.
“It’s over?”
“We won! We won!”
They embraced one another, leaping with joy at their victory.
Selina, merged with a spirit, let out a deep sigh of relief.
Her first Spirit Union—but she could no longer maintain it.
Her hair shifted back to pink.
No—perhaps it was more correct to say the black hair had never been hers to begin with.
That thought made her smile faintly, and she spoke to the mass of black fur drifting near.
“Thank you, Sister Esmeralda.”
If you ever need help, just say so.
Though no words came, Selina felt the emotion clearly.
‘Professor Ludger. You did it.’
She turned her eyes toward the barrier that still shimmered in the distance.
“The Goddess... withdrew her will?”
Franz muttered in disbelief.
Noxanna could have drowned the world in dream-sand this very instant.
The ending was just one step away.
Yet she had chosen to retreat.
Without even fighting—just for a few words exchanged.
“Why?”
Franz was stunned. And Ludger, too, was puzzled.
Her kindness toward humans was plain enough in her words and bearing.
But to abandon everything so easily was hard to understand.
“Why?”
Ludger asked the lingering avatar.
It turned, smiling warmly.
“What a strange thing to ask. You dreamers are, in the end, my children.”
“Was it not your wish to reclaim the world from Lumensis?”
“We created this world for all to live together. Naturally, the rightful owners are the children who carve out their lives here. Not Lumensis. Not even me.”
“For such a reason...”
“For such a reason, who fought harder than you?”
“......”
At a loss for words, Ludger met her gaze.
And Noxanna smiled.
“How could a mother ever defeat such beloved children?”