Chapter 900: Choosing

Ludwig, dressed in a child's formal suit, looked at the freshly cleaned "altar" and, with evident regret, licked his lips.

"If we had caught that bird with a human head and cooked it together with the fat duck, we would gain the ability to control fear within dreams—possibly even waking up from fear itself..."

"Also…"

The seven- or eight-year-old boy lifted his fingers, counting them one by one:

"The gray beasts of Darbira Star, roasted, prevent you from getting lost in most dreams for seven days…"

"The Black Dream Mo, a spirit-world creature that feeds on the joy, happiness, excitement, and longing within human dreams—its residual dust, when mixed into liquor, allows the drinker to avoid being seduced by dream beauty, trapped within and unwilling to wake; each sip also grants clear distinction between reality and dream for the next ten days..."

"The King of Nightmares, an angelic-level being ruling the Four Serpents planet of Y-system—eating its gallbladder directly grants permanent dream lucidity…"

"…"

Ludwig grew hungrier as he spoke, and couldn't resist asking his transformed godfather for a few sandwich cookies to fill his stomach.

When he finished recounting the ingredients he could recall, Anthony mused:

"Perhaps I have encountered a Black Dream Mo."

Seeing Lumian turn to him, Anthony carefully said:

"Recently, I treated a patient at the psychological clinic—he suffered three straight weeks of nightmares, his spirit drained, emotions numb, deeply pessimistic."

"I applied standard psychological therapy and even tried using 'hypnosis' and other extraordinary abilities, but all I achieved was two or three days without nightmares before he slipped back to his original state."

"I never understood why it failed—now I suspect he has been targeted by a Black Dream Mo."

"Psychological clinic?" Lumian nodded, then asked casually.

Anthony explained briefly:

"To join the 'Psychological Alchemy Society,' you must fully integrate into the circle of psychologists—I've now officially become a practicing physician at a psychological clinic."

Lumian hummed, then pondered:

"The higher the Sequence, the harder it is for new members to gain the trust of secret societies. Sequences 9 to 7 are manageable—they fall within the range ordinary people can reach. Sequence 6 is difficult, Sequence 5 involves rituals; very few purely wild extraordinary beings reach that level. Aren't you worried that becoming a 'Dream Walker' now will hinder your future entry into the 'Psychological Alchemy Society'?"

Anthony smiled calmly:

"I purchased my 'Dream Walker' potion formula and corresponding materials in batches from a member of the 'Psychological Alchemy Society.' The Lady of Justice mainly provided financial rewards."

"I see..." Lumian shifted his focus to Ludwig. "How powerful is a Black Dream Mo?"

"The strong ones have faint divinity; the weak are equivalent to Sequence 7," Ludwig said eagerly.

"Finding a bird with a human head or a Black Dream Mo in the spirit world is beyond our reach—unless we ask Lady the Magician or the Saintly Angel who governs the spirit world on behalf of Mister Fool." Lumian told Anthony, "Can you help me enter that patient's dream? I want to confirm if it's a Black Dream Mo—and if there's a chance to catch it."

"I bought two dream-entry talismans from the 'Psychological Alchemy Society,' and the Lady of Justice gave me one," Anthony replied honestly.

Lumian smiled, pulled up his cloak, and covered his face:

"Then tonight, we'll 'visit' that patient."

Anthony suppressed the disappointment of seeing that exquisite face hidden, nodded, and followed Lumian—who held Ludwig's hand—down to the ground.

After walking several dozen meters, Ludwig glanced sideways at Lumian:

"Mother…"

He simply felt that since his godfather had become female, the title should change.

Mother… Lumian's heart skipped a beat, his voice turning stern:

"Call me godfather."

"Yes, godfather," Ludwig acquiesced instantly. "I've had some bad premonitions lately."

"Bad premonitions?" Lumian asked, as if thinking. "About yourself, or all of us?"

Ludwig was utterly honest:

"About myself."

Lumian gave a slight nod and chuckled:

"I know roughly what it is. No major issue—just endure it, and it'll pass."

"Then, you'll have a chance to earn contributions and exchange them for parts of a semi-god's corpse."

Ludwig's eyes lit up instantly, his own premonition forgotten:

"Yes, godfather!"

…………

Opera District, Black Hat Street, inside an apartment with drawn curtains.

Niseya, standing nearly one meter seventy tall, gazed at her reflection in the full-length mirror:

Her face was soft and clean, her naturally wavy brown hair falling loosely, her deep brown eyes clear yet profound, her lips vividly red and slightly parted, revealing two rows of white teeth; her figure was curvaceous, her height neither too tall nor too short—just right…

What a captivating woman she was.

Niseya gazed at herself in fascination, her right hand drifting to her plump lips, then slowly sliding downward toward her full chest.

She never imagined the extraordinary power promised by the "Witch" would come this way—when she indulged in and reveled in the abilities granted by the "Assassin" potion and committed countless crimes, her fate was already sealed.

She was forced to drink the "Witch" potion, becoming a woman—a transformation violently opposed to her twenty-plus years of male identity.

Now she seemed split into two: one furious, pained, seeking revenge against the "Witches" and this world; the other conquered by the allure of her beauty, flawless figure, and new-found joy, falling in love with her current self—even craving higher-sequence potions to become even more perfect and enchanting.

Suddenly, Niseya followed her spiritual intuition, lowered her hand from her chest, and spun sharply toward the armchair near the window.

Someone had appeared there without warning.

The figure sat comfortably, arms resting on the armrests, a loose brownish-blond ponytail visible, eyebrows arched into her temples—both strikingly handsome and piercing, as if capable of stabbing into the soul of any observer; her lake-blue eyes, seemingly clear and calm, held deep layers of emotion and intent, inviting one to explore them with all passion.

Combined with her high, refined nose, moist red lips, smooth long neck, and the way her lace-flowered blouse strained against her curves, Niseya suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to kneel, to kiss the back of her hand.

"So beautiful… as beautiful as the few 'Witches' I've seen before, yet with a different aura—more captivating in every detail…" Niseya greedily stared at the woman before her, asking neither her identity nor preparing to defend herself.

So this is the newly ascended "Witch"… Franca, seated in the armchair, silently shook her head.

She had slipped into the room the moment Niseya began admiring her reflection, yet Niseya was lost in her own beauty, utterly unaware—even preparing to perform an exaggerated act.

When Franca first drank the "Witch" potion, she too had been stunned by her own beauty, convinced this was her anima, the woman she had always dreamed of. Fortunately, her personality was cheerful, she was a transmigrator, and she had already changed bodies once—so she never rejected her current female form, never saw it as another person, merely indulged in a touch of vanity, never truly fell in love with her female self. (Note 1)

Once she became busy with Tarot Society tasks and met Jianna and Lumian, this fixation faded further—but still, such beauty? How could one not admire it?

Though Franca sat and Niseya stood, Franca smiled down at her:

"I don't know if the Black Witch told you, but for a long time ahead, you'll be under my command."

"Madam Clarisse mentioned you're Madam Franca?" Niseya's gaze still wandered over Franca, a desire rising to tear open her clothes and beg for pleasure—but then she looked at her own chest, and sorrow flooded in.

She no longer had the power…

"Your vigilance is too low—if I were an enemy, you'd be dead several times over," Franca murmured, her crimson lips parting. "The 'Mirror Double' is important, but you can't rely on it completely."

Niseya's heart jolted, then broke into a cold sweat:

"Yes, Madam Franca."

Franca allowed a faint smile to appear, making Niseya's eyes brighten:

"Give me the files on the Emperor Party's core members."

Niseya nodded instinctively:

"Yes."

She hurried toward the safe in the room.

…………

Administrative District, Livor Street.

Kewell, dressed in cotton pajamas, sat on the edge of his bed, holding a glass of red wine, unwilling to lie down and sleep.

He knew it would only begin another long torment, an endless cycle of pain.

Eventually, he couldn't resist exhaustion and sleepiness; after drinking the wine, he fell into deep slumber.

In a hazy dream, Kewell ran in terror, nearly collapsing, as a monstrous creature chased him from behind.

Ahead lay a cliff—he couldn't stop in time and plunged over.

In a normal dream, Kewell would have woken or shifted scenes at the moment of freefall—but now he didn't. He crashed to the ground, his body shattering into pieces, pain beyond description flooding every fragment.

He screamed shrilly.

At that moment, a bear-like shadow emerged from the darkness, lapping up the brain matter spilled from his body—Kewell froze, his terror and agony intensifying.

Suddenly, he saw a crimson moon rise in midair, and a slender figure descended from above, wielding a massive iron-black straight sword.

The figure's hood flipped back, her long black hair illuminated by the crimson moon, dreamlike, as if piercing directly into the moon itself.

Note 1: Jung's psychological term, representing a man's unconscious feminine image; every man's anima is unique, the woman he most desires and yearns for in his subconscious.

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(End of Chapter)