In the dead of night, amidst the dense fog on the outskirts of Moncarlo, the ravaged battlefield still bore witness to the ongoing clash between Moncarlo’s ruler—former pirate lord Edward—and the Blackdream Hunting Pack’s Moth-Chaser, Withered Wing. As the battle progressed, Edward’s advantage became increasingly evident. Fighting on home turf and armed with prior intelligence, he had steadily seized the upper hand.
“Cough… cough, cough…”
Clutching his chest, Withered Wing coughed out mouthfuls of blood. His face had gone pale, and his body trembled uncontrollably. Earlier, Edward had used hidden spirituality to launch a surprise attack from within Withered Wing’s own body. Though he had quickly used his pseudo-moth’s tendrils to purge the foreign spirituality, the damage was done—his internal organs had been brutally ravaged. His lungs and digestive system were reduced to pulp, and even his heart had suffered injury. If he hadn’t activated a Frenzy Sigil hidden in his ring—a Chalice Sigil—to temporarily boost his physical endurance and stave off death, he would already be a corpse.
However, even such powerful reinforcement wouldn’t last long under these conditions. He had to act immediately. If the sigil’s effects weakened even slightly, or if Edward launched another full-scale assault, it would be over.
Edward clearly had no intention of wasting the golden opportunity he had created. The instant Withered Wing was seriously wounded, Edward launched another attack. With a sweep of his hand, countless thick water arrows formed in the air and shot toward Withered Wing. At the same time, Edward himself surged forward—his elemental legs blasting high-pressure water like rocket thrusters as he charged with his water blade drawn, cutting a direct path toward his target.
Under this fierce assault, the numerous dreamform tendrils that protected Withered Wing shattered and dispersed one after another. Were it not for Withered Wing’s prior sense that something felt off—and his decision to recall most of his tendrils from offense to form a defensive barrier—Edward’s charge would have pierced all defenses in one devastating strike.
Just as Edward broke through the last of the spiritual tendril shield and closed in on his enemy, Withered Wing finally completed his countermeasure. Right after using the sigil to prolong his life, he retrieved a small, intricately carved silver sphere from within his robes. The sphere was inlaid with numerous tiny, colorful gemstones, and its filigreed shell revealed nested, layered spheres within. No one could see how many layers it held—or what lay at its core.
The moment Withered Wing took out the silver sphere, it began to emit a strange, intoxicating vapor through its openings. The smoke rapidly spread around him, enveloping his entire body. By the time Edward broke through the defenses and arrived before him, Withered Wing was already engulfed in the hazy mist. Edward frowned slightly at the sight and hastened to slash the swirling vapors with his water blade.
But just then—something unexpected occurred.
The smoke had a corruptive property!
Realizing this, Edward instantly understood the danger. His water blade, transformed into a dreamform, lost its connection to him. The spirituality he had imbued into it was expelled. Meanwhile, the strange smoke surrounding Withered Wing began to spread outward in a sudden surge—seemingly trying to engulf Edward himself.
Reacting swiftly, Edward launched into a high-speed retreat, his elemental legs once again blasting powerful jets of water to rocket him away from the encroaching mist. Fortunately, he escaped before the smoke could catch him.
Now at a safe distance, Edward observed the scene with caution. The smoke didn’t persist long; it quickly began to dissipate. As it vanished, Withered Wing reappeared in his line of sight—completely transformed.
His body had become semi-transparent, his face indistinct, his colors fluid. After being enshrouded by the smoke, Withered Wing had transformed into a dreamform entity. He had shed the limitations of the flesh, becoming a half-dream-realm creature.
“He’s… become Inner-Realm-formed…”
Murmured Edward, recognizing the transformation. But Withered Wing, now in dreamform, did not stop there. He launched his next move.
“Moth… descend through my vessel…”
With solemn reverence, Withered Wing opened his palms and began to chant. At once, his body underwent rapid metamorphosis.
He floated up from the ground. The illusory wings on his back suddenly expanded with terrifying force. The tendrils of his spiritual armor writhed violently and extended at a breakneck pace. His dreamform armor morphed and elongated, rapidly growing forward and back.
Edward’s expression darkened. With a flick of his hand, he summoned all surrounding mist into water arrows and fired them at Withered Wing. Countless massive bolts rained down from all directions, bombarding the growing dreamform entity, shattering its body mid-expansion.
But even so, the rate at which Withered Wing’s dreamform evolved still outpaced the damage dealt by the water arrows.
At last, his transformation reached completion.
Hovering over Moncarlo was now a colossal, translucent creature—an aberrant, fantastical insect. Its massive, torn wings shimmered with ever-shifting colors and spiraling patterns like optical illusions. Its long, bloated abdomen bristled with glowing, cocoon-like nodules. Instead of insect limbs, its torso sprouted countless undulating tendrils. The insect’s head bore no mouth or eyes—only a smooth surface, from which two antennae extended.
This was the pseudo-moth: a powerful half-dream-realm creature bred from the scales of Pan-Moth, the god revered by the Blackdream Hunting Pack. Members of the Blackdream Hunting Pack gain mystical powers through symbiosis with these creatures. A single pseudo-moth can form bonds with countless Blackdream members, though only one serves as its core host and commands its actions.
A mature pseudo-moth possesses Crimson-rank power. Its bonded host—the central Blackdream member—is likewise considered Crimson rank. Withered Wing was just such a figure. Now, he had summoned his symbiotic pseudo-moth fully into the physical world—manifesting it in the skies above Moncarlo.
“So that’s… the Blackdream’s symbiotic dream-moth…”
Edward muttered softly as he gazed at the thirty-meter-long illusion-winged behemoth floating in the air. At its core, Withered Wing now used the pseudo-moth’s power to heal. While he lacked the ability to mend his flesh himself, he had converted into a dreamform, and his symbiote’s self-healing ability now flowed into him—rapidly restoring his injuries.
Once recovered, Withered Wing began a new maneuver.
With a faint wingbeat, the immense pseudo-moth unleashed an invisible pulse from its body, centered on itself and sweeping outward across all of Moncarlo. In that instant, the tens of thousands of people still awake and marveling at the strange fog were overwhelmed by a sudden wave of drowsiness. One by one, they collapsed into unconsciousness.
In the blink of an eye, the entire main island of Moncarlo fell into slumber—save for Edward and Withered Wing.
This was a hypnosis pulse, a full-powered mental wave released by a complete pseudo-moth. The earlier pulse Withered Wing had unleashed had only covered two to three kilometers, and it had no effect on Edward due to his spiritual anchoring. But this time, the pulse spread across the entire island.
For the first time, even Edward’s mental tether wavered slightly. His consciousness blurred for a brief moment.
“Ungh…”
The unexpected wave of sleepiness caused his body to sway. He clutched his temples to steady himself. And in that moment, Withered Wing, housed within the pseudo-moth, activated yet another ability.
“Nightmare Manifest…”
He murmured.
Suddenly, four shadows emerged beside Edward—born from nothing. These shadows writhed and twisted, rapidly transforming into four pitch-black dreamforms.
The four dreamforms, each bearing their own unique appearance, were: a fat Radiance Church Inquisitor holding a holy scripture and wearing a stern expression; a blood-covered sailor; a native pirate woman clad in a serpent-patterned robe with braided snake hair, wielding a scaly blade; and finally, an aged version of Edward himself—so old he leaned on a cane and had lost all his teeth.
“This village is guilty of conspiring with heretics! The entire lot shall be sentenced to burn at the stake!”
The fat inquisitor cradled his holy scripture as he pronounced judgment, while translucent flames ignited around him and surged toward Edward.
“Captain… save us! Please, don’t leave us behind!”
The blood-soaked sailor cried out in desperation, brandishing his curved blade and rushing to strike Edward.
“Bloodwave… Sooner or later, you’ll pay the price for what you’ve done!”
The woman with the snake braid shouted as she slashed at Edward with her serpentine sword.
“It’s useless… utterly useless… No method will work… All efforts are in vain… We’ve run out of options…”
The even older version of Edward staggered toward his present self with trembling steps, muttering words of hopelessness.
“…What is this?”
Faced with these four attacking dreamforms, Edward’s eyes widened and he instinctively stepped back several paces. Dodging their assaults, he summoned a water sword and water dagger to strike back at them. However, unlike the earlier battle against the pseudo-moth’s tendrils, these dreamforms regenerated almost instantly after being dispersed. Within less than a second, they reformed nearby and resumed their attack.
Even when Edward moved at high speed to reposition, the four shadowy dreamforms followed him like specters, teleporting with ghostlike precision. They were impossible to evade or destroy, and their attacks directly damaged his spirit.
Eventually, after fending them off for a time, Edward seemed to arrive at some realization. He halted and gathered water arrows once again—but this time, he aimed not at the dreamforms, but at himself.
“Begone… phantoms!”
With a sharp shout, Edward fired the water arrows into his own body, simultaneously dissolving his elemental form. In that instant, his gaunt flesh was pierced by several thin water bolts, spilling rich blood from his wounds. The intense pain that surged through him snapped his muddled mind into clarity. His previously wavering mental anchor solidified once more, and the black dreamforms vanished.
“Hah… hah… hah…”
Panting heavily, the bloodied old pirate slowly straightened his back. He lifted his head and gazed toward the sky. Through the mist, what he saw was the dreamlike silhouette of a colossal moth spreading its wings and flying away.
Withered Wing knew that battling Edward on his home ground was a losing endeavor. That’s why, after casting Nightmare Manifestation to trap him in illusions, he immediately had the pseudo-moth retreat. While Edward was entangled by the dreamforms, the pseudo-moth had flown a vast distance and reached the edge of Moncarlo’s main island—it was just about to leave the island’s bounds.
During this escape, the pseudo-moth’s already translucent body grew even more faint, nearing the point of vanishing. This was because Withered Wing was attempting to let it phase into the dream realm for a full escape. The mist covering Moncarlo acted as a barrier preventing such a shift, so he had to get beyond the island’s range first.
“You’re not getting away…”
Edward’s voice was cold and firm. Staring at the fleeing pseudo-moth, he pulled out a broken bronze wand and gripped it tightly. Faint glowing marks lit up along its surface.
As Edward activated his power again, the seas surrounding Moncarlo suddenly roared to life. Waves surged violently, the roar of the tides deafening.
From the tumultuous ocean, massive serpents of water—seven to eight meters thick—burst forth from the surface and lunged at the pseudo-moth that had just exited Moncarlo’s boundary. In an instant, they reached its altitude. Withered Wing reacted quickly, commanding the pseudo-moth’s tendrils to strike the water serpents. But there were too many, and they were too large. The moth couldn’t fend off all of them at once.
More than ten water serpents simultaneously rose to the pseudo-moth’s level. Their giant jaws opened, biting into its translucent body from every direction. For a moment, it couldn’t continue flying forward.
“What…!”
Seeing the pseudo-moth gripped by countless serpent maws, panic flooded Withered Wing. He tried desperately to wrest it free—but there were simply too many. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t break the binds. Worse yet, the moth was at risk of being pulled down entirely.
“You can’t escape… This is my sea.”
Gazing at the struggling pseudo-moth, Edward tightened his control. More water serpents surged from the waves to bite down. As he said, this was his domain—built over centuries. Here, he held absolute advantage. So long as he went all out, Withered Wing had no chance of escape.
As more and more serpents rose from the ocean to strike, Withered Wing felt a creeping sense of despair. Even with the full pseudo-moth summoned, he still couldn’t break free from Edward’s grip. He couldn’t shift into the dream realm on Moncarlo, and in the coastal waters, Edward’s traps awaited. The sea was his enemy’s stage. Escape seemed impossible.
BOOM!
Just then, one of the serpents latched onto the pseudo-moth suddenly exploded in midair. Fire and shockwaves erupted in a blazing blast that tore the creature’s long body apart. Its head and tail remained barely connected by a single, thin column of water—wavering and unstable.
Seeing this, both Edward and Withered Wing were stunned.
What just happened?
Where had that explosion come from? Neither side had shown powers of that kind.
Edward briefly suspected it was one of Withered Wing’s sigils at work—until another, smaller detonation sounded from the island, followed moments later by a second blast. This one struck the previously damaged serpent again, severing its last link. The serpent’s head, no longer tethered to the sea, dissolved into ordinary seawater and plummeted into the ocean.
“A bombardment…!?”
Now that he heard it clearly, Edward immediately understood—someone was shelling his summoned water serpents! And judging by the sound, the shots came from the coastal defense cannons he had personally installed on Moncarlo!
“That bastard… When did he infiltrate the coastal fortress and take control of the garrison? He can dreamwalk over long distances too!?”
Realizing the truth, Edward’s mind reeled. He instinctively assumed Withered Wing had seized control of his troops.
Ironically, at that very moment, Withered Wing was just as baffled. He had no idea where the explosions were coming from—and hadn’t even recognized the noise as cannon fire.
“What’s… going on?”
Meanwhile, in one of the many heavily fortified coastal fortresses scattered across Moncarlo and its nearby islets—built by Edward and his descendants—a curious scene played out. Outside the fortress walls, the city guards lay sound asleep on the ground. Inside the battery, several men dressed in various outfits were deftly operating the heavy cannons, aiming them at the serpents rising from the sea.
A short distance from the gunners, other men were busy preparing the shells. Some used specialized tools to disassemble the warheads, insert a tiny amount of explosive powder and a small insect into the cavity, and reseal the ammunition. The heads and propellant charges were then brought to the cannons for loading. Similar scenes played out across multiple Moncarlo forts.
Out at sea, Dorothy floated above the waves, pouring immense spiritual power into the task. She was controlling dozens—if not hundreds—of corpse marionettes to perform synchronized cannon operations. Under her command, numerous dark cannon barrels were all trained on the water serpents in the distance.
“Apologies… Captain… but that moth is my prey. I can’t let it fall here.”
With a faint smile, Dorothy murmured to herself. Then, with a silent command from her heart—the cannons roared to life.