Reality shattered like glass under strain.
Aurus moved. Space cracked. Each step left fractures, spreading like webbing through the dream.
When he slashed, the world itself tore apart. It wasn't a unique blade, it wasn't anything special, if it wasn't for having followed him during his whole life.
No, it wasn't special; any blade would do the work. What mattered was the user.
Just his will, cutting sideways through dinsions. The battlefield broke open like pages torn from a burning book.
Air turned inside out, ti flickered.
But the Slumbering King wasn't affected.
His black hands rose, every twitch rewriting the world.
Towers rose. Stone and light coiled into shape. Dozens, then hundreds of floating rings, drifting like pieces of shattered gravity. Puppets flooded the new ground, thousands of them, weapons drawn, eyes glowing white like stars without warmth.
Above, phantom hands, gigantic, semi-transparent, glowing, mirrored the King's every move. They hovered in the dark sky, moving like puppet strings across the dream. Everything moved to his rhythm.
Aurus said nothing. His eyes narrowed.
He struck again.
A wide sweep of his hand, not a sword, just motion, and half the battlefield vanished. The row of platforms collapsed, thousands of puppets disintegrated before they landed. The air cracked apart, torn open like a broken shell.
But the King remained intact.
He turned a hand.
A circle snapped around Aurus, warping space like a trapdoor. The battlefield warped. Past and future collided in flickers of illusion. Places, voices, deaths, echoes of lives... blended into one overwhelming blur. But Aurus didn't slow. down
His aura answered.
It wasn't light. It wasn't heat. It was pressure.
Real, unbearable pressure. Like walking into a collapsing world. It weighed on every structure, bent the horizon, burned through concepts themselves. Puppets disintegrated without touch. Illusions cracked without notice.
More puppet waves ca. Dozens combined into one giant beast, like a dragon made of warriors and bone.
It lunged.
Aurus raised a single finger.
The thing split in half.
Another stage ford, with more traps and more hands.
They clashed again. Aurus' movents weren't fast; he didn't need more speed, as any attack ant total annihilation. He tore through illusions like ink sars wiped clean.
The King moved nothing but his hands. But every twitch changed everything.
The air flipped sideways. Ti unraveled, attacks froze mid-strike, then turned against Aurus, platforms folded and exploded in ripples.
Still, Aurus advanced.
He left no sound. Just destruction.
His strikes hollowed out canyons in the sky. His aura tore apart space with no end in sight. The battlefield had long stopped being a place. It was a floating storm of half-broken laws and dead warriors.
But the King never budged.
He just moved his hands.
And so they battled. No words. No end.
A God among humans. A King among demons.
Both dancing forever in a tiless void.
Back in the Glass Garden, the silence had turned heavy.
Regulus took a sharp breath, looking up toward the frozen cracks in the do.
"It's him. It has to be. The one facing the Slumbering King... might be Sir Aurus. He's the only one missing."
Bel didn't move. The faint sensation of the dream around them seed to still.
Regulus continued, his voice tight.
"But being strong here doesn't matter. He might be the strongest Sacred, but this place isn't real. Killing anything here ans nothing if it's only an illusion. The King can't be defeated by force. Not here."
Bel slowly turned toward him.
"So you're saying it's pointless. But you still want to move. How? Is it hopeless, or not?"
Regulus shook his head.
"No. I don't think it's hopeless. I said before, you're different. You might be the best counter to him."
Bel narrowed his eyes.
"Explain."
Regulus looked down at his own hands, his faded form still flickering.
"When you touched my body... sothing in your power erased the King's power. It was like your essence brought back the real world. To the one-dinsional space we actually exist in."
Bel frowned.
"But I killed Morpheus with my bare hands, and it did nothing. He ca back."
"I know. I can't explain everything. Maybe Morpheus was like the King, existing from another layer of reality. Or maybe your power only works if you actively use it on the King's power. I don't have all the answers. But I know what I felt."
Regulus stepped forward, his gaze firm now.
"When you touched , my body beca real again. Your power can erase the Slumbering King's influence. That might be the only way to reach him."
Bel crossed his arms, lost in thought. This feeling wasn't new. Sothing crawled at the back of his mind.
He rembered Elysia.
After one of his dungeons, she was there in the forest, and since he needed to recover, he wasted ti chatting with her. She looked at him like she was trying to solve a puzzle.
"You're different," she had told him. "I can mimic anyone, once I cover them with my presence. But not you."
Her gift let her copy voices, strength, aura, everything. But not with Bel.
"When I touch you," she whispered, "it's like my soul disappears. Like you're a bottomless hole."
Bel's eyes sharpened.
It felt like the Authority of Destruction, but that hadn't awakened yet. So what was it?
Whatever it was, it was ti to use it.
His essence was full.
He turned to Regulus.
"Say it. What are you thinking?"
Regulus promptly nodded.
"We hit the entire dreamscape. One giant strike."
Bel blinked.
"You're serious?"
Regulus nodded faster.
"The King's power spread from a single demon. That one touch gave them control. If you unleash your power and I bind it as a domain..."
He hesitated, considering whether it was an accurate description, and then added.
"The dreamscape runs on domain logic. Two domains clash. Yours is erasure. It could overwrite his."
Bel nodded slowly. It tracked.
Regulus went on, his voice urgent now.
"Maël shook this realm just by forcing a shift. If we push hard enough, the Slumbering King loses ground. Even for a minute, it's enough."
Bel glanced at the moon, then back.
"What if he just resets it? Sends us deeper in? I can escape fast, but we need him dead. How do we fight him?"
Regulus smiled, tight and tired.
"That's the part I like. Demon Lords always act through generals. Domains need a physical anchor. If every general is dead..."
He paused, leaving it to Bel to finish.
"... Then he has to co himself."
Regulus nodded once.
"Exactly. And here, we will be able to deal real damages."
Bel crossed his arms, his gaze lifting to the moon.
"It might work," he muttered. "That's a brilliant plan. Efficient use of one's death."
Regulus let out a dry chuckle.
"I prefer to call it a petty way of not dying alone."
The two shared a glance. It wasn't warm. Just clear. Like two soldiers trading a look before a final charge.
Regulus grew serious again.
"There's a risk. We need to kill the archdemons before they can cast the spell again. Morpheus... if he's an archdemon, he should be your target. I don't think there's another one left."
Bel raised an eyebrow.
"What about Hypnos?"
Regulus didn't answer right away. His eyes lowered, tone steadier than before.
"It's already done."
A pause stretched between them.
Regulus looked toward the moon, eyes narrowed.
"If we can pull him back into the real world... then it's over."
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