Chapter 180: Dreams, Memories, and the Voice (2)
I settled Epherene into the chair in my office, leaning in close as I shone a light in her eyes to check the pupillary response.
"... Hic," Epherene muttered, suddenly hiccuping.
"Is there a problem?" I inquired, glancing up at her face.
"... I think you are too close, Professor," Epherene muttered, pouting.
"Epherene, remnants of demonic energy were detected in your pupils," I said, stepping back and seating myself as the examination came to a close.
“Sorry?”
Demonic energy, even in the tiniest particles, was a turbulent force that could stir a tempest within me. It stood as the greatest adversary of the Characteristic I had acquired not long ago. However, I felt no pressing concern, as the nature of Deculein’s wrath—although his words and actions grew more abrasive—always settled into a frostbound tranquility.
"What has led you to this?"
"Ah, um..." Epherene mumbled, her eyes darting away from mine as if searching for an escape.
“Speak.”
"... Umm, my dad came to me in my dream."
I watched her in silence, saying more than words ever could.
Epherene lowered her head and added, "But... it wasn’t him. It felt like I had been deceived in some way, or something like that."
I pieced the words together in my mind—dream, father, deception, and demonic energy.
"Did nothing else occur in the dream?"
"Sorry? Oh, well..." Epherene stammered, her eyes wide, her fingers fiddling and her feet shuffling like a squid, her cheeks flushing bright red.
A strange sense of discomfort stirred within me.
"Still your hands and legs, or I will have no choice but to cut them off."
"What?! Cut them off? ... Something did happen, actually."
As I continued to press my glare into her, Epherene finally began to speak, her words cutting through the stillness as I listened in silence. She had met Kagan Luna in her dream, but it wasn’t really her father. Had she approached him, it could have been disastrous, but she explained that she had survived thanks to a recent mental training session...
"It could only have been a demon."
“... A demon?” Epherene asked, blinking.
"Correct. Now, which of the five human senses fades from memory the fastest?"
“Hearing, Professor.”
"Correct. The sounds of the distant past fade from memory, making them vulnerable to distortion."
Hearing, the first of the human senses to fade, gradually faded into complete obscurity. For this reason, it was also the easiest to deceive.
"Beware the voices that call to you in your dreams."
In a world untouched by recording devices, the voices of the dead faded into silence, and the Voice slithered into the cracks, like a shadow slipping into the void.
"They call it the Voice," I concluded.
"Oh! I’ve been there as well! But it was all in ruins when I was there," Epherene exclaimed, her voice echoing through the room.
I nodded and replied, "That demon has both a concept and a phenomenon that shapes its world. In those ruins, memories, dreams, desires, and wishes take form. Do they not sell strange items there?"
"... Oh, yes, they did. And I also have this. I got it from Rohak... I mean, from that old man a while ago," Epherene said, pulling a coin out of her pocket. "But why did I have such a dream?"
In silence, I stared at Epherene—from the crown of her head to her temples, across her brow, and down to her forehead.
Epherene suddenly squinted at me and asked, "W-why are you staring at my lips like that?"
"... Have you lost your mind?"
“Sorry?”
Leaning back in the chair, I said, "That being said, you’ve been formally invited. Most likely, all the memories of Decalane, Kagan Luna, and the others have already flowed to the demon."
"So what happens after that, Professor?"
"In those ruins, the door to your memories will open. Only those who manage to clear the challenge will receive that coin," I said, pointing to the coin.
“Clear... Clear? Clear the challenge?” Epherene muttered, her face filled with confusion. “How could anyone possibly clear my memories?”
"Like a dungeon, where the villains of your memories rise up as the final boss."
“Oh~ So, if the villains of my memories are like... Glitheon, Lolu, Lucia, and Deculein...”
Epherene stiffened, startled by her own unfiltered thoughts spilling out, a bead of cold sweat forming on her forehead. She quickly pretended to be distracted, muttering to herself as if correcting what she had just said.
"... Deculein is n-neutral now, so let’s not count him, and we will be left with—"
"Enough of that. That said, the difficulty of your memories is likely at its highest."
“Ahem... But why would that demon do something like this? What is it trying to accomplish?"
"World domination," I answered.
Epherene blinked at me and asked, "... Is that even possible?"
"It's within the realm of possibility. The more people become obsessed with the ruins of the Voice, the stronger its power grows. By entering their dreams and twisting their memories, as it did with you, it leads them to be dominated by it."
The demon’s ultimate goal was to rule the world through humanity. However, it was not the pure representation of evil; instead, it offered opportunities for growth, making it both a chance and a peril—a double-edged sword.
“So... if I’m invited, what about you, Professor?”
"I have already been invited."
"... How can you tell if you are invited or not?"
“The shoulder.”
“Shoulder?”
Using Telekinesis, I lowered the hem of Epherene’s robe, revealing the curve of her shoulders and collarbone.
Epherene screamed in panic and exclaimed, “Ahh! W-what are you—what are you doing to meeee?!”
“There.”
“Professor, you are crazy! Ahhhh!”
I clenched my teeth for a moment and continued, "Look at your shoulder."
“... What?!”
“There should be a tattoo made with a single stroke.”
Epherene, doubt evident on her face, wove the spell—Whispering Wall—forming an opaque barrier.
“Oh, what?!” Epherene gasped, glancing at her shoulder as the wall vanished, her face flushing with awkwardness as she looked at me. “I... wonder what this could be~?”
"That tattoo allows you to determine the timing of your entry. For now, since the Voice's duration is limited, access is restricted to once a week. Further instructions will follow—be sure to align your schedule with mine."
"O-okay. Yes, Professor," Epherene mumbled, scratching the back of her neck and avoiding eye contact as she nodded awkwardly.
***
On a bitter winter morning, as the harshest season took its hold, Yulie awoke from her sleep.
"Huff... huff... huff..."
Cold sweat drenched her body, her breath coming in ragged gasps, as the voices lingered faintly in her ears.
“Grand Knight, please avenge my death.”
“Grand Knight... I...”
The voices of Rockfell and Veron echoed in her mind—Rockfell, pleading for vengeance as his limbs were torn apart, and Veron, a Wood Steel blade driven deep into his heart—a nightmare that wouldn’t release its grip. Yulie struggled to calm her racing heart, attempting to meditate, but the circumstances offered no mercy.
“Knight Yulie! This is bad!”
Yulie sprang to her feet, casting a light Cleanse spell to wipe the sweat from her skin. She armed herself, slipped into her tiger pelt armor, tied back her long hair, and reached for her sword before pushing open the door.
As soon as the door opened, Reylie rushed over and said, "This is bad, this is really bad!"
"What happen—"
"Just come! You'll see when you get there!" Reylie said, hurriedly pulling Yulie toward the meeting room.
As they hurried to the location, a number of knights had already gathered, and the meeting was already underway.
“Oh~ Hey, Yulie. You’re here,” Sirio greeted.
"Take a seat," Gwen said.
Unlike the welcoming faces of her trusted knights, the knights of the Imperial Palace avoided making eye contact with her.
"... This is the scene described by a scout who ventured deep into the outskirts of the Land of Destruction," reported Delic, a knight of the Imperial Palace.
The meeting, which had briefly paused, resumed, with a drawing pinned to the board at the front of the room. Yulie’s expression stiffened the moment she saw it.
"Innumerable demonic beasts are advancing from the Land of Destruction. While their exact numbers remain unknown, their target is clearly the wall here."
It was the densest monster wave she had ever seen—far more than anyone had expected.
Yulie could hardly believe her eyes as she watched the dense wave of monsters, more terrifying and massive than ever before.
"Professor Deculein’s prediction proved correct."
Even those who had gathered in Rekordak initially questioned Deculein’s prediction. The idea that a monster wave, far greater than the one that had devastated the continent nineteen years ago, could be approaching seemed almost unbelievable.
"... What will you all do?" Delic asked, sweeping his eyes around the knights at the table. "In less than a week, these maddened beasts will be upon us, and by then, their hunger will make them far more vicious in their onslaught."
Yulie frowned as she understood the meaning of his words.
After a moment of silence, Delic concluded, "I will be leaving."
This 𝓬ontent is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.
"... Knight Delic," Yulie said, attempting to stop him.
Delic shook his head and said, “The corrupted knight should remain silent.”
Yulie clenched her fists, a flood of anger rising within her.
"To hold our ground at Rekordak is meaningless," Delic continued. "Of course, Knight Deya would argue in favor of holding the line."
"No, Knight Delic. If the situation is as critical as you say, I only request that you consider leaving with the villagers of the mountain, at the very least—"
"Alright. But enough of this; let us turn to matters of—"
Creeeak—
The door to the meeting room creaked open again.
“... Ah!”
This time, at the sight of the newcomer’s arrival, the entire group of knights at the table rose in unison from their seats, their chairs scraping across the floor as their heads bent low.
"It seems this was a meeting reserved for knights, as I received no word of it for an invitation, or so I presume," Deculein said, his eyes sweeping across the meeting room.
No one dared to speak; only a heavy silence filled the room. Deculein moved through them and took the seat at the head of the table.
"So, I understand the purpose of this gathering. With the Rekordak Knights' Order's building nearing completion, I see so many already preparing to leave," Deculein said, his eyes sweeping over each member of the assembly before soon locking on Delic.
Meeting Deculein's eyes, Delic slowly opened his mouth and asked, "Professor, do you intend to remain...?"
"I must have stated that from the very beginning," Deculein replied.
Delic turned his head just enough to hide the fleeting contortion of his face, then composed his features into a calm one before meeting Deculein's eyes once more.
"However, Professor, although I sincerely wish to stay and fight, please look at this report. With only a few hundred knights and a few thousand prisoners, our numbers are far from adequate.
“This situation is nothing like Daeho before. The monster waves will grow larger with each passing moment, and if the first is already this large, we will find ourselves in an unending battle, day and night."
With quiet desperation, Delic tried to sway Deculein.
"It is also a matter of quality of life. To defend this wall, we will be in an endless battle for an entire month. Even if we manage to hold out physically, there is no guarantee our minds will...”
Delic continued his lengthy speech, which dragged on for some time, presenting logical arguments that, in their own way, were quite reasonable.
"Hmm. Indeed, Delic, your argument is sound. There is no flaw in your logic," Deculein said with a slight nod.
Delic's face lit with relief, as did the faces of the knights who stood with him, mirroring his.
"Now, how many of you here wish to leave? Why don’t all of you raise your hands?" Deculein added.
At first, not a single person raised their hand.
"No pressure, but I ask that you raise your hands."
However, when he called on them a second time, Delic was the first to raise his hand, and soon after, arms shot up like shoots in a field.
"Very well. You may all leave," Deculein said, a faint smile playing on his lips as he glanced at each of them.
Delic pressed a hand to his chest, holding back the sigh of relief that was rising inside him.
So, even Deculein feels that this might be too much to handle. The fact that his predictions were proven right will undoubtedly bring him tremendous honor. It’s only natural that he would avoid taking further unnecessary risks, Delic thought.
"Yes, Professor. I will consolidate the opinions and provide—"
“However.”
Suddenly, Deculein’s eyes turned cold, while his lips remained faintly curved in a smile—creating a chilling contrast that deepened the sense of unnaturalness.
"I have predicted this situation using an original concept I created myself—the Collision Value," Deculein continued, his voice deep and full. "And I’m sure you must have known about it when you came. But now, faced with the reality of the prediction, you all wish to turn away and leave..."
... In the countless worlds and stories of novels, villains often shared common traits—typical and predictable qualities that defined them as archetypal antagonists.
"However, I wonder if all of you realize that the cost of securing and developing this prison was astronomical. Had you not chosen to follow me to Rekordak, I would never have invested such a fortune."
The first of these traits was an obsessive hatred of sunk costs. Villains abhorred losses with extreme intensity and drove their subordinates without rest, no matter how impossible the task seemed.
"Of course, the scale of the loss is inconsequential, but this wall is bound to the Chairmans position—that rightfully belongs to me."
The second trait was that they were obsessed with a hunger for wealth and power, for such desires had always been the crowning ambitions of an incompetent villain.
"And of course, the title of Chairman holds little importance to me... However, should any knight decide to leave, it would signify a lack of faith in me."
And for the third trait.
"Such a person should be wise enough not to entertain any thought of ever standing by my side again."
Villains were never ones to forgive or forget—they clung to grudges with such intensity that their bitterness would drive them to take lives.
"... Well?"
To put it another way, this was the advantage of a villain—the ability to bypass the exhausting persuasion that someone like Yulie might require and mobilize the resources and manpower needed to achieve their goals, pushing them to the frontline without consent.
"So, is there anyone still planning to leave?" Deculein asked, his smile spreading widely across his lips.
Gulp—
The sound of the knights swallowing resounded through the room, their eyes weighted with fear as they locked onto Deculein. To the knights of the Imperial Palace, his smile held the venomous menace of a serpent, coiled and ready to strike.
"Or do you wish to fight and die here, hoping to find honor in the grave?"
Deculein eased into his chair, his every movement radiating effortless nobility, yet the words that followed bore a chilling edge.
"Take a day to think it over and make your decisions. And just so you all know, there is no part of this Empire over which I do not have influence. It would be quite unfortunate if any of you were to encounter an accident on your way back to the capital, and of course, I sincerely hope that does not happen,” Deculein said, then rose from his seat with a controlled laugh.
With that, he rose, his laughter filled with mockery as he left the room. The knights remained silent, too fearful to say anything. No one dared stop him or challenge his words. They could only watch as he walked out, each of them lost in their thoughts.
The meeting room was filled with knights, yet none found the courage to speak or step forward to challenge his words. They stood in stunned silence, their eyes fixed on his back as he stepped out.
Creeeeeak—!
The door closed once more, and a heavy silence descended upon the meeting room. The knights, their faces shadowed with a mix of emotions, turned their attention to the scouts' report.
Their numbers are incalculable, stretching endlessly across the horizon of the Land of Destruction. The sheer scale of their advance suggested that the ground itself shifted with each movement.
"Sigh..."
Delic’s heavy sigh hung in the air, fading like a trail of smoke.
***
Meanwhile, Sophien received a book on the basic guide to Go from Deculein.
"That man did a fine job of writing this one," Sophien muttered, flipping through the pages, nodding in satisfaction, and placing the book on the desk next to Keiron's snow globe.
"By the way, Your Majesty, is it true that the Professor brought down Daeho?"
Sophien tilted her head slightly, directing a sharp look at Kreto as he sat before her, having arrived without warning and wasting no time questioning the truth behind the rumors spreading through the Northern Region and the Empire.
"Yes, it is true."
"Wow! Professor Deculein really did hunt Daeho?! I want to know his limits, as they are such a mystery. Isn’t he?"
"Enough of that. Why are you asking?"
"Haha, I’m currently writing a biography of Professor Deculein."
"You're out of your fucking mind. Why are you even trying to write something like that as a member of the imperial family? I’ll tear it to shreds."
"Oh~ Of course, I’ll use a pen name instead. No one will ever know that I’m the one behind the name Luhufraharan."
"... Ugh, what a fucking idiot," Sophien muttered, shaking her head with a frustrated look on her face.
"Oh, right. I’ve also heard rumors that the wave is happening soon. How is Professor Deculein doing?"
"Why is it always Deculein this, Deculein that whenever you come around? Whatever he’s up to, I’m sure he’s dealing with it just fine. I have got my hands full with the Scarletborn."
Kreto gave a bitter smile as he observed her carefully and asked, "But, Your Majesty, why do you harbor such hatred toward the Scarletborn?"
Sophien paused, her eyes staring intently at Kreto, a severe chill flickering in her crimson eyes.
"My hatred is not without reason," Sophien replied.
"... Yes, of course, as you are ever so wise, Your Majesty. But that aside, didn’t the professor predict that this wave would be especially perilous?"
"Indeed, he did predict that it could be hundreds of times greater than last year. Whether that comes to pass or ends in nothing but his humiliation—either way, I'm quite curious; it will be fascinating to see," Sophien said with a faint smirk.
"Although I have great respect for the professor, I really hope his prediction is wrong this time," Kreto said, turning unusually serious.
"Enough."
Tap—
"Take these to the Secretary of Internal Affairs on your way out, and read them yourself as well," Sophien said, handing the documents to Kreto.
"What is it?"
"The policies regarding the Scarletborn moving forward."
"Oh..."
Kreto read the document, a bitter weight pressing on his chest. His eyes widened, and for a moment, it felt as if his heart had stopped, the contents more shocking than he could have ever imagined.
Approval for the installation of gas chambers, beginning with the Bethan concentration camp.
Authorization for the complete eradication of Scarletborn villages.
All unregistered Scarletborn are to be executed without exception.
"... As Empress, I also have a letter to send to one of my subjects," Sophien said.
Kreto, his hands trembling as he read, looked up and stammered, "S-sorry? A letter, Your Majesty?"
"Indeed."
Sophien realized that a letter she had once sent to someone, regardless of its eloquence, was not only the writing style—though that too—but also felt too old-fashioned.
"Assist me with this letter before you leave, applying your modern perspective to refine it," Sophien added.
"... Oh? Umm... Yes, I will."
"And who is the recipient of this letter?" Kreto asked, tucking the confidential document into his coat without much thought.
"... That is none of your concern!"
"Sorry? Why? What is it about?"
However, Kreto found Sophien's reaction to be slightly strange.
"That is enough. This is a personal matter of the Empress, and there is no need for you to know. Remember this, little one—too much curiosity can get you into trouble," Sophien said.
As if she were covering up something.
"Yes, I understand," Kreto replied, though he had never seen this side of her before. "Well... as long as it’s not a love letter, I should be able to help you write it without any problems."