"Arghhh—!!"
Count Amorin was sent flying backward, his body spinning through the air in a thoroughly undignified manner before crashing down without a shred of resistance.
The sight filled with a crude, undeniable sense of satisfaction.
So... this really works.
Confidence surged through , intoxicating and dangerous. If I truly held absolute authority here, then the possibilities were endless. Thoughts raced through my mind, one after another, each more reckless than the last.
I raised my hand.
"So I can even do sothing like this?"
At my will alone, my arm twisted and expanded, tal and mass forming instantly until it beca a gigantic hamr.
The weight felt real, yet effortless—an impossible contradiction made possible by one simple fact.
This was my dream.
And here, I was the owner.
Drunk on that realization, I lifted the hamr high, ready to bring it crashing down on Count Amorin without hesitation—
Ziiing.
"...?"
A sharp, chanical hum cut through the air.
I paused and looked up.
What greeted my eyes made my expression stiffen.
An iron figure was approaching from the distance, its heavy footsteps shaking the ground with each step. A familiar silhouette. Broad shoulders, reinforced plating, and that unmistakable, ominous glow gathering in its core.
The iron golem.
The very sa one that had nearly crushed back in the dungeon.
Its chest began to shine, energy condensing as it prepared to fire its laser.
For a brief mont, mories of that encounter surfaced—
Then I scoffed.
"Hah."
I tightened my grip on the massive hamr, confidence returning in full force.
"This isn’t the dungeon anymore," I muttered. "And you’re not the threat you used to be."
After all—
Here, reality itself bent to my will.
And this ti, I wouldn’t be the one running.
At this point, a re iron golem should have posed no real threat to .
And yet—
My expression slowly stiffened as the sounds that followed echoed through the space.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Heavy footsteps. Not just one. Many.
One by one, grotesque figures erged from the haze.
Ogres.
Chiras.
Even Claris—the sa Claris who had gone berserk not long ago—her twisted form lurching forward with lifeless eyes.
...This lineup was ridiculous.
For a mont, I simply stared, genuinely taken aback.
The monsters kept coming. Not slowing. Not stopping. As if the world itself were endlessly spawning nightmares just to overwhelm us.
"Wait—no matter how you look at this..." I muttered under my breath.
"...That’s way too many."
Then it hit .
A crucial detail I had completely overlooked.
Viola’s dream and mine had rged.
Which ant it wasn’t just our hopes and mories intertwining—
Our nightmares had fused as well.
A chill ran down my spine as the implications sank in.
This wasn’t just my worst fears anymore.
It was ours.
The horde surged forward, their roars overlapping into a deafening cacophony.
And as if that weren’t enough—
Count Amorin, who I had personally sent flying monts ago, slowly dragged himself back to his feet.
"...You...!!!"
He let out a bestial roar, veins bulging as his face flushed an unnatural red. His body began to swell, muscles expanding grotesquely, bones cracking and reshaping.
In seconds, his form ballooned into sothing massive—sothing inhuman.
A towering shadow lood over , blocking out what little light remained.
I instinctively tilted my head back, staring up at the monster he had beco.
...Seriously?
"Co on," I muttered, bitterness creeping into my voice.
"That’s just not fair."
Sure, this was a dream.
Sure, I could freely use my abilities here.
But even so—
This wasn’t a normal fight anymore.
This was a full-blown nightmare trying to crush us through sheer numbers and overwhelming force.
My imagination simply couldn’t keep up anymore.
So many monsters—each more grotesque and terrifying than the last—kept erging, piling atop one another like sothing out of a nightmare.
No. This was beyond .
I had no choice left.
I had to use my trump card.
"Viola!"
"H—huh...?"
Viola, who had been staring in a daze at her father—now grotesquely transford into a towering monster—flinched at the sound of my voice and snapped back to reality. Her wide eyes turned toward .
"Take my hand!"
"Ah... y-yes!"
She hesitated when she saw my outstretched hand, her fingers trembling.
Then, as if making up her mind, she squeezed her eyes shut and carefully placed her hand in mine.
The warmth of her grip sent a jolt through .
I didn’t hesitate.
I pulled her toward with all my strength.
"Eek—!"
She stumbled forward without resistance and crashed straight into my chest. I wrapped an arm around her instinctively—
"Aaaaaah!!"
—and ran.
I ran with everything I had, not daring to look back even once.
How was I supposed to fight all of that?!
Be reasonable.
The monsters were still multiplying, their distorted forms writhing and expanding, filling the space behind us. Even if I could use my abilities freely, there was no way I could handle numbers like that.
Running was the only option.
"Stop right there!!"
The roar shook the air.
I didn’t need to look to know who it was.
Count Amorin—now swollen to an absurd size, his monstrous form stretching nearly to the sky itself—lood behind us like a living catastrophe.
Facing that head-on...
No.
That was absolutely impossible with my power alone.
"Uooooohhh!!"
"Hiss—screeeech!"
The shrill cries of our pursuers echoed behind us as I sprinted down the wide, empty corridor.
This is a dream.
There are no physical limits here.
I didn’t need to worry about my lungs burning or my legs giving out.
...Still, surely this won’t go on forever, right?
Just as that uneasy thought crept in, sothing ca into view ahead.
A door.
A massive iron door, standing alone at the end of the corridor.
That’s it.
If I could get inside and block it, the enemies would be forced to co in one by one. I could handle that.
I reached it in a few long strides and pushed it open—
"...Huh?"
Beyond the threshold was nothing but pitch-black darkness.
Not dim.
Not shadowed.
Absolute black, like a void that could swallow everything—body, mind, soul.
I hesitated.
Just for a second.
"Uoooohh!!"
The screeches were right behind us now.
No ti.
I grabbed Viola and stepped inside.
Creeeaaak—slam.
The heavy door shut with a dull, unpleasant sound.
"...Now they’ll co."
I waited.
One second.
Two.
Three.
"..."
Nothing.
No footsteps.
No screeches.
No breathing.
The monsters that had been clawing at our backs just monts ago had gone completely silent.
...Why?
Why aren’t they following us?
A chill crawled up my spine.
Frowning, I raised my hand and summoned mana.
"Light."
Whoosh.
A crimson fla blood into existence, hovering in the air and casting its glow across the darkness.
And then—
"...This is..."
My breath caught.
Iron bars.
Chains hanging from the walls.
Rust-stained floors.
Strange tools lined the room—so I recognized imdiately, others so twisted I couldn’t even guess their purpose. Every single one of them radiated malice.
"...A prison?"
No—worse than that.
A torture chamber.
Why would a place like this exist in a dream?
As that question ford in my mind—
"I’m sorry... I won’t resist anymore... I’m sorry... I’m sorry... I’m sorry..."
Viola.
Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it shook violently.
"...What?"
She was trembling.
Not from cold—her whole body was shaking as if she were reliving sothing she desperately wanted to forget. Her eyes were unfocused, her arms drawn in tightly around herself.
"I’m sorry... I’m sorry..."
"Hey—Viola."
I didn’t think. I just moved.
I pulled her into my arms, holding her tightly as her trembling grew worse.
"It’s okay," I said quietly, firmly. "You’re safe. I’m here."
Her body stiffened for a mont—
Then, slowly, she leaned into .
The prison remained silent around us, the red light flickering against iron and chains.
Whatever this place was...
It wasn’t here for .
It was here for her.
Viola’s breathing was shallow and uneven, each breath hitching as though her chest refused to rember how to rise and fall properly.
"I’m sorry... I won’t run anymore... please..."
Her fingers clenched into my clothes, nails digging in as if letting go would make everything collapse.
"...Viola," I called her na again, more softly this ti.
No response.
Her eyes were open, yet she wasn’t seeing . She was sowhere else—trapped in a mory far older and far darker than this dream.
I tightened my arms around her.
"This isn’t real," I said, steadying my voice. "This is a dream. Whatever happened before, it’s not happening now."
The words felt thin, even to my own ears.
Dream or not, this place was shaped by sothing real.
The flickering light revealed more details the longer I looked. Faint scratches on the floor, dents in the walls, dried stains that refused to fade even in a dreamscape. This wasn’t a random nightmare—it was a reconstruction.
A mory given form.
"...They made choose," Viola whispered suddenly.
My heart skipped.
"Choose...?" I echoed.
Her lips trembled. "If I scread, it hurt more. If I stayed quiet... it lasted longer."
My jaw clenched so hard it hurt.
I didn’t need to ask who.
I didn’t need to ask when.
This place answered everything.
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