Chapter 56: Dream Residue

"Mr. Kraft?" The boss withdrew his hand, escaping the cold touch; that hand reminded him of a drowned body fished from the sea, skin bleached and wrinkled by water, fine salt grains like sandpaper lingering in the folds, the friction provided seeming designed solely to grab and drag down another victim.

Upon hearing this, Lu Xiusi and Li Si looked at Kraft's face. Beneath golden, fragmented hair, those eyes opened quietly. The water-swollen hand blocked the reaching fingers, yet he raised no questions about everything around him, as if in the daze of just waking.

Yet that gaze was not like chaotic confusion; rather, it stared at some ungraspable focal point in the void, far beyond everyone's backs, higher than the roof.

Kraft's lips trembled; the raised hand opened. Lu Xiusi thought he was seeking leverage to rise, so he grasped his hand, but Kraft did not grasp back.

His cold, stiff fingers traced a trajectory following some pattern, but limited by physiological function, this attempt failed several times. Lu Xiusi could not identify what he was trying to draw and let go in confusion.

That pale, stiff body abandoned the attempt to leave a trace in the air, turned to support itself on the ground, and lifted its upper body off the cold stone floor.

The mechanical, non-biological sensation of gear-like rotation made even daily acquaintances seem strange; an incomprehensible consciousness controlled this body, forcibly driving uncooperative joints to flex, extend, and retract, as if after a long age, reproducing past movements by fragmented muscle memory.

He spent a few seconds rolling over, facing the ground with an extremely awkward center of gravity, then moved hands and feet to a half-kneeling posture; this motion was smoother.

While the three marveled at the strange movement, his gaze pulled back from infinity; his eyeballs turned with his neck to scan his surroundings, finally resting on the furnace.

A wet hand grabbed an unburnt piece of wood, pulling it from the fire along with a string of sparks; flames on the charred front half twisted the surrounding air, while gray-white embers rained down.

"Put that down quickly, Kraft!" Li Si wanted to stop this just-awakened person from continuing dangerous actions, but could find no purchase due to the burning charcoal fire.

Kraft rose, propping himself with the wooden stick in hand, holding it level with his brow. Firelight reflected in his pupils, flashing with unstable red-yellow dancing light and shadow. His gradually smoother movements showed he was adapting quickly, yet Li Si did not know if this was a good thing.

No response to questions could be a sign of mental abnormality, especially when this person held a high-temperature object; lack of self-awareness would pose a huge danger to both himself and bystanders.

Li Si held back Lu Xiusi, who wanted to step forward to communicate, blocking him behind himself, and led him backward imperceptibly, taking cover behind the long table.

The boss, sensing something was wrong, had long since retreated behind the counter, clutching a silver-white double-winged ring amulet symbolizing the Church's deity.

Facts proved Li Si's decision was extremely correct.

The moment he regained mobility, Kraft swung the wooden stick like a hammer, smashing it against the wall. Intense firelight drew a dazzling arc across his retina, followed by the impact against the stone wall.

The fragile carbonized section shattered and burst; high-temperature fragments inside ignited again upon contact with air, sending countless flames surging and spilling everywhere.

Unafraid, Kraft watched these high-temperature little things pass his ears and hair tips. Gripping the wooden stick, now reduced to its final carbonized remnant, he walked to the table and left black scratches on the surface, using the manner of writing on a blackboard.

That drawing motion was natural and smooth, no different from repeatedly studying anatomical charts with a piece of lime during lessons, as if the lines had already been marked on the plane with invisible ink visible only to the ordinary, and the drawer merely traced the existing figures.

He drew the first stroke: a long arc connecting head to tail, occupying most of the tabletop. The crude charcoal brush moved his entire body, drawing the outline of a perfect circle with strokes as symmetrical as possible.

The sharp edges of the carbon block at the remnant end shattered during drawing; small sparks and flames flickered incessantly, like painting a glowing object with fire. Merely a circular outline, that posture required no explanation, making one involuntarily believe it was some vast, suspended thing.

Next, the drawer, with slashing, cutting-like strokes, swift and sharp, tore a black straight line across the circle, as if wielding a sword or some other sharp object.

What was being drawn was precisely such a crack, abrupt and profound, destroying the integrity of the whole. But if it was such a vast existence, what could leave such a mark on its surface?

This was not the end; more crack-like straight lines were added. None crossed the circular boundary, proving Kraft was indeed drawing a damaged, broken perfect circle entity.

The two behind the long table were captivated by the chisel-and-axe-like drawing. Within the crude lines seemed to reside some indescribable magic, a technique no painter they knew could employ, conveying information other paintings could never reach.

After an action one could not decide to call slashing or creation, a perfect circle covered in intersecting cracks appeared on the tabletop.

This pattern still held some flaw: lacking a single commanding stroke to fully express the object. Anyone examining it closely could clearly realize this; even if they had never seen the real thing, they could indirectly grasp its spirit from Kraft's strenuous drawing.

It was an extremely impactful experience, as if stepping out of a narrow space to face the full moon hanging high in the night sky—an implacable celestial body eternal and untouched by millennia of human change, yet possessing the majestic power to leave cracks on its surface sufficient to swallow cities.

To think of it, to be awed, to be filled with the awe for massive objects and great power deep within one's instinct.

The silver double-winged ring amulet clutched in hand unknowingly fell, bounced off the counter edge, rolled into the floor crack, and vanished into the dark crevice.

Its owner, however, seemed unaware, staring blankly at the figure outlined by black strokes along with the others, waiting for the moment of completion.

After a long silence, the drawer's hand fell again, starting from the far left end, beginning on the edge of the ring, and cutting horizontally.

This stroke was bold yet precise; immense wrist strength, guided by powerful control, cut through the smooth patina formed by years of use on the wooden board surface, as if to slice through the surface of the thing within the painting to reveal what lay beneath.

The brushwork gradually deepened, reaching its limit as it passed through the circle's center. Tiny popping sounds never ceased; the wide scratch was deep black, lightened after passing the center, and finally reached the boundary on the other side.

A slender spindle-shaped pattern crossing the image appeared, dividing the whole into upper and lower parts, endowed with an unmotivated sense of dynamic movement, granting it chaotic characteristics between an inorganic celestial body and life. In some eerie illusion, it would flip open along the central horizontal crack, revealing the undrawn side behind the deep darkness.

Having completed the finishing touch, Kraft seemed to have all strength drained from him; the will that had previously supported this stiff, cold body to climb up was exhausted. He leaned backward under gravity, half his body hanging on a nearby chair, chest heaving with heavy breaths.

The human side returned to him; his limp movements displayed the correct state of an unlucky fellow who had been in the water for who knows how long.

"I understand... urgh!" Mumbled words; churning liquid poured back from his throat. Kraft spat out a large mouthful of water, looking truly like a drowning person.

Overcoming nausea and exhaustion, the moment he woke, he used the nearest materials to record what he remembered, unable to distinguish whether it was his own will or driven by another.

Like most dreams, memories in the dream were fleeing rapidly. This time, however, consciousness insisted on reaching out a hand upon waking to scoop some up, preserving the parts he deemed important.

【Celestial Body, Reverse Fall】

Good. He had drawn the last thing he saw; intuition told him this was related to leaving the dream.

Consciousness continued to organize earlier parts. Those chaotic, flowing memories seemed like quicksand from another world, uncontrollably slipping through his fingers. Discontinuous scenes flashed by like a panorama; only by straining every effort could he catch a few keywords.

【Fall, Bai Guang, Wriggling Song】

And also...

【Spirit, Senses】

Kraft puzzledly stored these words, along with the incomplete scenes he hadn't yet had time to distinguish one by one.

At this moment, a hand rested on his shoulder.

"That really scared me to death. Are you okay, Kraft?" A deliberately slowed voice sounded beside him; the owner of that hand leaned in close.

"I'm fine." Kraft regretted saying this immediately; he realized he had "seen" that person without turning around—a "transparent person."

A humanoid creature built with hollow support structures, connected by telescopic flexible tissues, and covered by a layer of locally grown, fine-haired skin, placed its structurally complex forelimb on his shoulder, making him shudder in fright.

Had he not been completely weak, Kraft could have jumped straight up from the chair. His familiarity with human anatomy quickly made him recognize this as a transparent, very standard humanoid; even small gallstones were visible inside the gallbladder.

【Spirit, Senses】

That thing reappeared in consciousness. He quickly realized that not only people, but everything, was presented in his mind from a transparent perspective; in the spiritual senses, nothing could hide.

Yes, this is my sense, related to this dream. Intuition helped him confirm this point; it was so natural there was no surprise, perhaps because he had already been surprised in the dream.

【Turn it off】

The dream's residue continued to prompt.

Kraft instinctively intended to comply, but a final glance within the spiritual senses caught his attention.

Right on the stairs from the front hall to the second floor, within the feedback of the spiritual senses, existed a very vague object, different from all other items and people. It was not blurred due to distance, but appeared unreal despite being within the range of perception.

In an imperfect analogy, it was stuck between "being" and "not being," like the edge of the auditory field or the blind spot of the retina—impossible to confirm in the mind's senses, only recognizable as existing.

In vision, the staircase was empty, with no objects whatsoever.

It seemed to be moving at a slow pace, sizable in volume, its texture strangely viscous—more like… writhing?

Kraft rubbed his eyes and stared hard at the staircase—there was truly nothing there.

"It might sound strange, but could you take a look and tell me what's on the staircase?"