Chapter 849: NO. 218: A Ritual Belonging Solely to Him

NO. 218: A Ritual Belonging Solely to Him

People often say that when one lies down in extreme fatigue, they fall into deep sleep.

In deep sleep, no dreams arise, and your no-longer-active brain cells cannot fabricate illusions of information.

Thus you will have no dreams.

But people also say that overwork easily invites nightmares.

Regardless of the state, brain cells never truly rest; there is always someone working the normal shift.

Perhaps you won't have a complete dream, but you will indeed have a strange experience.

And upon waking, you won't remember it clearly.

Only occasionally, when an inexplicable déjà vu strikes, do those fragments, as if shrouded in thick fog, become somewhat clear.

You will realize you have indeed seen this scene, only not in reality, but in a vague dream.

In such a dream, you cannot even have a correct sense of self.

It feels as if you are someone else, or a kind of heartless walking corpse.

Who am I?

——You wouldn't even ask such a question.

Splash……

The boundless black water rose to his waist as he advanced, but the youth moving forward blindly didn't care.

He trudged through the dim cavern; the phosphorescent substance on the walls reflected his brown eyes.

Those eyes were not bright, nor were they cloudy; but because they faced a stretch of darkness, the whole pair looked dull and indistinct.

He stepped into that darkness, each step arduous, as if because of the water beneath him, or because of the corpse-cloth swaying behind him.

That corpse-cloth, which seemed like a full-body suit but only covered his lower half, was cast in large swaths of black and a small piece of silver, giving it a plastic-metallic texture.

The large black area floated on the pitch-black water, making the silver like cheek and sideburns, and those small dull patches of yellow and blue, more conspicuous.

Conspicuous enough to form a withered face.

The water surface floating behind him swayed, as if straining to pull back, unwilling to be led by the youth into that darkness.

But the youth did not abandon it.

Although he never looked back, he didn't find the corpse-cloth, which clung below his waist and floated behind him, burdensome; he simply persisted in walking through the pooled water, determined to enter the darkness where even phosphorescent moss refused to creep.

This was a long route—long, tedious, silent, exuding boundless deathly air, as if entering the gateway to the netherworld.

But the endpoint was not the far shore of the dead, but a pitch-black abyss.

Facing that abyss, his dull eyes finally showed a faint glimmer.

A dark red glimmer lit up from the far end of that retreating figure.

Accompanied by a scorching gust, it gradually filled the space; instantly, the walls collapsed and the whole space shuddered on the verge of falling.

Moreover, it allowed the dragon girl, who had finally reached this chaotic thought-space without disturbing the other's mind, to witness the space's disintegration and the vertical pupil leaping through the radiating red-hot pillar as soon as she arrived.

"... Mm, I underestimated you."

First stunned, then relieved, she who had hurried over smiled carelessly, letting the space's cracks spread until they turned into fragments that shattered and vanished.

After she vanished, a black-haired horse girl arrived with the same hurried steps.

At this point, the dream node was utterly empty.

Not even a place to set foot remained.

Did you come late? …… A pair of eyes glowing gold in the dimness, full of worry and sorrow.

——

"... Did I get it wrong?"

He opened his eyes; the switched vision confirmed the familiar ceiling of the light fixture. Aomo stared for a few seconds, feeling a slight pain in his jio and shoulder, somewhat dazed, but still eventually pulled open the bedside lamp.

Then he pushed himself up, lowered his head, and looked at his plain-patterned blanket.

He vaguely recalled having a long, tedious, deathly dream, in which corpses carried out trivial questions and hindrances, leaving him with no vivid impression.

But it seemed that only at the end did he catch a glimpse of familiar blue.

It must be an illusion; Ling shouldn't be so bored as to never miss an episode of my dreams.

"What did you missee?"

"..."

He turned his head to see the dragon girl seated on the swivel chair before the computer desk; Aomo remained silent in mutual gaze for a while, then curled his lips: "Good morning."

"Good morning, good morning," she said, no longer playing the gaze game, but placing her hands on the chair's armrests, leaning on the chair's tail as it spun, Ling replied cheerfully, "Anything you want to ask?"

"Obviously, why are you appearing in my bedroom?"

"I should have stayed in the dream, but the dream was destroyed, so I was pushed out," she said, bracing her tail to stop the spin, shrugging her shoulders, "But I just arrived; after all, your dream this time had truly thick walls."

"The walls are thick enough?" Aomo frowned.

That offhand remark triggered some basic knowledge from his high school source-energy studies.

If done intentionally, it would be fine, but an unconscious dream that rejects everything is not a good omen for the person.

"Yeah, if it weren't for this sturdy, sharp barrier, I wouldn't have needed to rush over for a look; but luckily it was just a false alarm," Ling cheerfully shook her ever-present wine gourd, took a swig, "Nothing happened."

"Nothing happened……" He unconsciously turned his gaze to the card box on the bedside.

Lately there have been many things that could stimulate the mind, but if we really eliminate them, the main suspect is just one.

And it's also ever-reliable Meifelas…… Is this a case of a good swimmer drowning?

Perhaps I've been too lax…… He raised his hand to rub his nose bridge, Aomo looked back at the computer desk, about to speak, but saw nothing there.

"Ling?"

He looked around, to no avail.

A mage's hand quickly dragged the swivel chair to the bedside, and he rested his chin on his hand while inspecting the dent in the chair's seat.

He saw that his hips were different — not an illusion. After drawing that conclusion, he used the mage's hand to push the swivel chair back, feeling as though he'd forgotten something. He stood there for two seconds, then remembered to look down at himself… and, sure enough, he was wearing his shirt properly.

But I normally take it off… Hmm, was it Sai who brought me to the bedroom…?

He recalled the hazy conversation before bed; it wasn't hard to guess why he was now in the bedroom, and he also understood why his shoulders, feet, and ankles were a little sore.

Picture a girl around 1.5 meters tall, either carrying or dragging something, escorting a boy just over 1.8 meters tall as they navigate a narrow wooden stairwell—even at the far end there's a turn required.

Ah…

Just imagining that scene, Omer felt that he wasn't in pain all over—even if Miss Sai was incredibly awesome.

And… indeed, urging her to work out and lose weight was the right call!

The fact that he can bear his own weight shows that Miss Sai's growth isn't just about height… though she might also be using her telekinesis, which doesn't have much room to manifest, to help.

Let's just assume she didn't use it… Omer activated the terminal, meaning to check the time, but he also saw a sudden message arrive:

【Deep Coffee: … Trainer, are you okay?】

Have you… had any bad dreams?】

「」

What should I say?

Although it didn't feel like a nightmare, looking back he could tell his mental state then was terrible—so bad that two dream observers rushed over at once, as if they needed to rescue him.

But he himself didn't feel anything at all.

Instead, Reiwa Tea Seat's arrival before and after gave him a subtle sense that he had two dream guardians.

【Moon Ring Snake: No, I've woken up feeling refreshed, but you probably didn't get enough sleep, right?】

Go back to sleep.】

Recalling his original purpose, he glanced at the time: 6:50 AM.

It's a bit early, but he had passed out early last night; his sleep adds up to about thirteen or fourteen hours—more than enough.

It's time to get up; he prepared a few pastries that Sai likes as a thank‑you, and this process itself could serve as a brief breather.

And after that…

Once again, he looked at the card box on the bedside table; his outstretched hand was decisive and steady.

He still needs Mifiras to appear today.

Even in that darkness, there will be a place for the Mifiras alien.

At the end of the watery surface filled with death lies a scorching abyss that reforges its vitality.

It also let him live again.