Pink petal-like mana scattered as if in full bloom.
Small, fluttering, drifting—it was even beautiful at first glance.
No one who saw such a sight would think of it as dangerous.
But the dream’s familiar, appearing in the form of a boy.
The precognitive dream’s Déjà vu was not deceived by that beauty.
His small frame moved with lively steps that didn’t match his size.
Bouncing like a rabbit, Déjà vu avoided every one of Elisa’s petals.
“Are you going to keep slipping away like a loach?”
Elisa, cloaked in immense mana, stretched out her hand toward Déjà vu.
From her hand, a long pink cannon of mana fired forth.
Déjà vu, eyes closed, gave it no glance and simply did a backward tumble.
The mana struck the ground and expanded past its limit.
A massive hemisphere spread, yet within the rippling blast, Déjà vu remained unharmed.
Wrinkles formed on Elisa’s smooth brow.
‘Even if he avoided a direct hit, to take no damage at all from that much...’
Such nimble movements were nothing but mockery.
Did it not prove that, in truth, no attack could harm him?
‘No, more than that—his eyes are closed. How is he dodging?’
To Elisa, it was behavior she could not possibly comprehend.
From beginning until now.
The boy who had introduced himself as Déjà vu had never once opened his eyes.
Were his closed eyes for some ritual reason?
Even without sight, if other senses were heightened to a bizarre extreme, it would not be impossible.
‘If so...’
Elisa decided to change her approach.
If moderate power did not work, then she would use stronger output.
If he tried to dodge without looking, then she would unleash a range he could never avoid.
Elisa raised her right hand.
On it, mana swirled into a vast sphere.
The boy, Déjà vu, shed tears from between his closed lids at the sight.
[It is sorrowful. To continue such meaningless resistance. Why must you go against the ordained flow?]
“Are you done talking? Then it’s time for your beating.”
Elisa hurled her maximized mana sphere.
Suddenly, she remembered something Caroline once said.
—All the people in the real world are idiots.
—Oh my, why such vulgar words again?
—They’ve no eyes to see. They babble about me being some tyrant this or that. What would you expect me to say? They don’t know a thing.
Caroline had looked at Elisa with a sullen face.
—The true ‘tyrant’ is not me. It’s you.
And how had she answered then?
Did she feign ignorance? Or tease Caroline for saying such?
Ah. She remembered.
She had simply accepted it with a laugh.
The pink mana sphere fell like a meteor toward Déjà vu.
Not elemental magic, but pure mana magic, Elisa Willow’s very own mana slammed down.
[Starlight Fallen Petals]
At the start of the semester, she had erased part of the Silent Forest with this same overwhelming output.
Now, even stronger and faster, it streaked in a straight line toward Déjà vu.
[This is dangerous.]
Until now, Déjà vu had mocked her every spell with simple evasion. But this was different.
The massive pink sphere rushing at him was powerful enough to be felt even beyond the darkness covering his sight.
How could a human, incapable of wielding dream-force, unleash such magic within Dreamland?
And to think this magic was weaker than it would be in the outer, real world.
The pure magical scale Elisa Willow carried as a mage—
One could say it surpassed humanity itself.
[So this is what they call the Lexuror rank, the summit of mages.]
“You’ve got a nice tongue. But that doesn’t mean I’ll show mercy.”
Elisa replied after hearing Déjà vu’s mutter.
Already the enormous sphere had reached point-blank.
Dodging was impossible.
Even if he tried, the explosion would consume him instantly.
[In that case, it cannot be helped.]
So murmured Déjà vu—
As he opened the eyes he had kept shut.
Déjà vu’s eyes were clear and transparent, like glass finely crafted.
In his pupils reflected the brilliant pink mana.
But the instant that color vanished from his eyes—
Elisa’s [Starlight Fallen Petals] also disappeared.
“What?”
Even Elisa could not hide her shock that her most decisive strike had been nullified.
It wasn’t overpowered.
It vanished like a mirage—an outcome that could only be called a miracle.
“What in the world...?”
[Personally, I didn’t want to use a power like this.]
Déjà vu’s transparent gaze fell upon Elisa.
And when her figure in his eyes began to fade—
“Headmaster! It’s dangerous!”
With someone’s cry, a massive shadow swallowed Déjà vu’s body.
It was practically a sneak attack while he focused on Elisa.
But Déjà vu turned his head, as if he had known this would happen, staring at his assailant.
Chi-iik!
The steam golem’s massive fist vanished like a mirage the moment it reached his gaze.
The trait of the precognitive dream’s Déjà vu was to see the future.
To be precise, he observed the flow, the convergence of countless minds, and by combining elements, predicted events in the near future.
He could avoid Elisa’s attacks without looking because he had already seen the dangerous futures.
And when he opened the dream’s true power—
He could make the future he envisioned become reality.
Elisa’s spell, the steam golem before him—
By imagining a future where they did not exist, he could erase them.
[Ah.]
A nonsensical power at first glance, yet Déjà vu sighed at the future he saw.
Behind the vanished golem, more approached.
Not one.
Two, three—their numbers multiplied in real time.
Déjà vu’s gaze turned past the golems, toward a man.
A plump man with a gentle face.
One of Seorn’s new instructors, the golem teacher—Brino.
In Seorn he was obscure, forgettable, of little standing.
But Déjà vu thought no such thing.
To him, this man was the most dangerous one present.
* * *
[Hhhuuaaaaaahhh!!]
The giant colossus let out a roar of rage.
Clara Cowen faced it with a calm gaze.
It was not the first time the thing had howled since their clash began.
But this time, it was especially emotional, especially fierce.
[Lucid! That you would fall like this! It is truly lamentable!]
From its massive face, tears poured endlessly.
So huge that even its tears gushed like streams.
By its reaction, clearly one of its comrades had fallen.
‘Which means... someone fought and won.’
A face came to Clara’s mind.
Ludger Cherish.
If it was that boy with such peculiar power, it was certainly possible.
And one thing became certain.
“You are not invincible after all.”
Clara leveled her staff.
The dream-force that burst from its tip struck the colossus’s face.
Sharper, stronger than before—half its face was blown away.
A lethal strike, no doubt.
But the colossus did not fall.
Its staggering body regained balance, and the missing half of its face regenerated in an instant.
The restored face twisted with rage.
[Human! Did you truly think you could defeat me with such a paltry thing!]
The colossus, its tears dried, glared at Clara with murderous intent.
[ I am Undying of the Deathdream! The authority bestowed upon me in this Dreamland is ‘Immortality’! No matter what attack you unleash, I shall never die! ]
There was no falsehood in that resolute cry.
Had not half of its face been blown away, only to instantly regenerate?
[ What awaits at the end of this fight is nothing but your ruin! ]
Undying clenched its massive fist.
Just as it was about to strike, Clara’s dream-force lashed out at the fist.
There was no collision.
Rather, her dream-force slithered up the fist like a serpent and shredded one of Undying’s arms into tatters.
[ Uwooooo! The pain! ]
But even before that howl ended, the ruined arm regenerated.
[ Futile! Strike as many times as you like—it is useless! ]
With its restored arm, Undying tried to seize Clara, but she slipped effortlessly through its fingers with a light flight.
[ Slippery little thing! ]
“Silence. I may be old, but my hearing is fine. Speak more quietly.”
[ You call me noisy?! ]
Undying bristled.
Clara once more shot her dream-force, blasting the opposite arm.
[ Graaah! I told you it was useless! ]
“And yet, you still cry out in pain.”
Clara’s next strike targeted its legs.
Twined like a double helix, the energy became a great spear and pierced the tips of its toes.
Undying, shocked by the pain, lifted its leg—and at that moment, the ground beneath its other leg rippled.
Boom.
The massive body lost balance and toppled.
Undying tried again and again to declare her attacks meaningless, but Clara refused to listen, raining down more blows.
Before, their clash had been strength against strength. But now it was different.
She carved skin, split muscle fibers, and aimed for weak points.
By this entirely new style of assault, Undying instinctively realized something.
[ You... surely not...? ]
“Not dying only means the pain never ends.”
Clara Cowen’s faintly glowing eyes gleamed cold.
“The immortal body may last forever. But let us see how long the mind remains intact through endless torment.”
She was just an old woman, one he could crush in a single hand.
Yet in that moment, Undying saw Clara as something immense.
* * *
[ Has Lucid fallen? ]
Syndrome of the Nightmare chuckled from inside his helm.
[Tsk. Had he yielded that nearby prey to me, he would not have suffered so. Greed has only led to his ruin.]
Then words of provocation were thrown his way.
“Hey. Did you come here just to talk to yourself? Then keep walking. What are you doing, standing around without fighting?”
[ Silence, human. If I willed it, you would already be slaughtered beneath my hands. That I have not is purely due to my mercy. You should be grateful. ]
“What an unbelievable bastard.”
To be exposed after failing stealth, and then claim victory in his own head—
That arrogant posture, naturally looking down on others, only worsened the disgust.
He seemed a special kind of being, yet he had not even fought seriously.
Still, Syndrome appeared convinced of his own triumph.
Alex, who could usually laugh things off, was now in no mood to smile.
He had dropped out of the military academy, no longer thought of himself as a knight—
But he was still a man who wielded a sword and fought.
Already irritated by the chaos of his companions being dragged into this world, now one of the underlings of the mastermind dared openly look down on them.
Alex was not alone in his anger. That arrogant behavior filled everyone with fury and irritation.
[ Hooh? Hhhaha. ]
Syndrome, sensing the rising intent, let out a low laugh.
[ So you dare hasten your own death. Very well. Though I dislike it, since a comrade has fallen, I must at least perform a suitable requiem. ]
Clang.
Syndrome spread his arms wide.
Blades split from his fingertips, gleaming ominously in the light.
[ I am Syndrome of the Nightmare, a familiar of Lord Nirva. I shall grant you a splendid paralysis of sleep. ]
His figure blurred from the air.
Like a desert mirage, not only his form but even his presence vanished.
An ability to hide by cutting off all five senses.
Yet there were those who reacted.
Two of them, in fact.
Alex and Phantos both struck instinctively at where Syndrome lurked.
Alex’s sword and Phantos’s fist collided with empty air.
[ Impressive. ]
Syndrome blocked both attacks with his arms, ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) and a voice of admiration echoed from within his helm.
[ To pierce my stealth was no mere luck. So this is it. But you were careless. To close the distance to me. ]
His arms danced like a performance.
Arms abnormally long, tipped with grotesquely grown claws.
They whirled dazzlingly as countless slashes rained upon Alex and Phantos.
The attacks looked loose, floppy, as if easy to guard.
But that was the trap.
For Syndrome’s true specialty was not stealth, but the dream-force he wielded.
At the ends of his claws gathered a dark violet sheen.
Whatever it touched, it would cut.
In sheer cutting power, Syndrome boasted the greatest of the five familiars.
Clang!
[ What? ]
Yet the instant his dream-force claws clashed with Alex’s sword, Syndrome sensed something amiss.
[ How can a mere human...? ]
Still baffled, he heard Alex’s mocking tone.
“I heard on the way. You use some peculiar power called dream-force, right? Something that reacts to imagination and willpower. Sure, it’s sharp. It cuts anything, doesn’t it?”
[ Even so, blocking it is... ]
For the first time, Syndrome revealed discomposure, unnerved by Alex’s words that laid bare the nature of his power.
“What are you babbling about? Who in this world draws a sword thinking it will break?”
