The middle central layer of Dreamland.
As Merilda walked through the place where the Maw of Dreams stood, hands clasped in endless prayer, her body shivered.
“To think there is such a dreadful place.”
Those things made of wood were, shockingly, alive.
Dreamwalkers had said that this was the final state of those who had fallen completely into this world.
Merilda shook her head.
To have her knowledge newly expanded was something joyful for one who pursued knowledge, but this place was far too dangerous to simply enjoy.
“Selina. Are you all right?”
Merilda turned to Selina, who was walking silently at her side.
Since joining the group, Selina had been unusually quiet.
It wasn’t shock from the current incident—it was closer to being weighed down by some troubling thought.
“Selina?”
Merilda called her name once more.
Only then did Selina come back to her senses and look at Merilda.
“Yes?”
“...Are you all right?”
“Ah, I am sorry. I just have too much on my mind.”
Selina gave her usual bashful smile. Yet the smile carried no strength.
Merilda couldn’t bring herself to pry further.
She might have before, but right now was a situation akin to wartime.
She must not allow her concentration to slip for even a moment.
Otherwise, the thin veil protecting her body would respond to her loosened focus and collapse.
“Be careful. In this place, if you don’t keep your mind clear, the world will devour you.”
Merilda gazed at the Maw of Dreams beyond the translucent veil.
In her eyes rested a trace of pity, but mostly fear.
The fear that if she erred, she might become like that herself.
When she heard that most of those praying humans were Dreamwalkers, her fear doubled.
“Yes. I understand. Thank you for worrying.”
Selina nodded.
She was grateful for Merilda’s concern, but she didn’t believe things would go so far as to warrant such worry.
Her heart was as calm as a forest at dawn.
So quiet, not even the sound of insects would stir.
The only thing that troubled her was her spirit, Esmeralda.
Esmeralda had struck down Mirage and then vanished of her own accord.
It was not that she had gone somewhere else—she had dismissed herself through reverse summoning.
If danger came again, or if Selina wished to summon her, Esmeralda would answer the call.
But that wasn’t what weighed on Selina’s mind.
‘Just what... was that?’
When she looked at Esmeralda, an indescribable emotion surged up within her.
When Esmeralda had been a tiny tuft of fluff, she hadn’t thought much of it.
Ludger had said that as a dark spirit, Esmeralda was extremely rare—so rare that it was questionable if she could even be called a spirit. But that had been the extent of it.
She had thought it was fine—after all, Esmeralda looked cute and had made a contract with her.
What changed her thoughts had been the previous event.
Mirage, one of Nirva’s five vassals—the Daydream Mirage.
Through dreams he created anything, a terrifying foe she didn’t even wish to imagine again.
The one who struck Mirage down had been Selina.
No—truthfully, it had been entirely Esmeralda.
‘I did nothing.’
Someone might say that the summoner deserves credit for the spirit’s deeds.
But Selina couldn’t bring herself to accept that.
The power Esmeralda used was different in nature from what she could command with her orders.
Especially that form.
After absorbing Mirage’s dream power, Esmeralda’s appearance had changed—and it had shaken Selina’s heart in a complicated way.
It was a perfect imitation of a human.
Spirits never took human form.
Born and raised from nature, they resembled parts of the natural world. Plants and animals, yes—but never humans.
The one exception was Quasimodo, who had been shaped from a human soul.
But Esmeralda had taken human form.
That alone proved she was no ordinary spirit.
‘Still, it’s not as if she poses a danger. No, she even helped. And she tried to save me.’
If nothing else, Selina felt certain of one thing.
Esmeralda truly cherished her.
Selina decided to shake off her unnecessary thoughts.
For now, she had to focus on the present moment.
Hundreds were on the move together.
Toward the Holy Library in the lower middle layer of Dreamland.
This situation was as dangerous as walking on thin ice.
She had no energy to waste on idle worries.
Just then, as Selina steeled her resolve—
A massive tremor shook Dreamland.
A single wave reverberated up from deep underground.
The praying Maw collapsed like puppets with cut strings, and the Dreamwalkers, who had been moving slowly, hastily formed a defensive line.
“Wh-what is this?”
“What just happened?”
“Everyone stay still!”
Clara Cowen, too, was startled.
Her eyes, so deep they seemed unfathomable, turned toward the ground—the source of the tremor.
“Something is happening below us.”
“Below... Do you mean the Holy Library, our destination?” Elisa asked.
Clara shook her head.
“No. Far deeper than that.”
“If it’s deeper than the Library...”
Elisa’s face stiffened.
There was only one thing beneath the Library.
“What on earth is happening in the Depths?”
Clara’s voice was filled with worry.
“We must hurry.”
* * *
Behind Ludger, a luminous Buddha statue rose.
From its back stretched arms of light that reached toward Nirva, spreading wide like a radiant fan.
There were one thousand of them.
Only a tenth the number of the Ten-Thousand Thunder-Blades.
But far more threatening to Nirva.
Each strike carried destructive power infused with divine force, faint though it was.
A single touch would be perilous.
“So this is the power of the god you serve?”
Nirva blocked Thousand-Armed Buddha’s assault with dream sand. A colossal dune rippled like a living wave.
The Buddha’s attacks could not pierce the dune’s thick wall.
Ludger gave no answer, instead replying with another spell.
Screeeech!
Seventy-two evil spirits appeared, rushing at Nirva.
Each spirit shrieked horrifically, every one of them dreadful and menacing.
Even the confident Nirva instinctively thought he wanted no contact with them.
“Planning to overwhelm me with numbers? Then I shall do the same.”
With a light stomp of his foot, the dream sand composing the ground surged upward.
From it, soldiers of sand rose.
They lined up in ranks, looking less like sand and more like clay baked into hardened forms.
[Somnus Terracotta]
The dream-sand soldiers leveled spears and blades at the evil spirits.
Though the seventy-two demons of Solomon were powerful, they could not withstand the sheer mass of soldiers pressing them.
The difference in numbers was overwhelming.
Endlessly, more soldiers formed—one fell, and five replaced it; five broke, and ten armed themselves to fight and perish with the spirits.
Flash!
From the heavens poured an immense radiance, countless pillars of light cascading down upon the soldiers.
[Ladder of Heaven]
The barrage of light fell like a sudden downpour, mercilessly sweeping through the soldiers.
The infantry could not so much as twitch before the bombardment.
But Nirva was not one to simply watch.
“Do you intend to pit strength against me here?”
The soldiers advanced toward Ludger, who floated in the air raining bombardments without pause.
It was not that they themselves moved—the desert floor beneath them surged up like a tidal wave.
Riding atop the wave of sand, the soldiers charged for Ludger.
Ludger formed a simple mudra with his hands and thrust his palm toward them.
Boom!
At the heart of the sand wave, a vast hole bearing the imprint of a palm opened wide.
The force not only tore through the wave but reached for Nirva beyond it.
Caught off guard by such an unexpected form of attack, Nirva staggered from the shock.
Seizing that moment, Ludger’s body swallowed a black shadow.
The burning shadow flickered out like a candle’s flame snuffed in an instant.
When he reappeared, it was behind Nirva’s back.
The swordstick swung for Nirva’s neck—but Nirva, without even looking, lifted a finger and caught the blade.
“I’d rather not have my neck severed again.”
“Then what about your heart?”
Thud!
Ludger’s left hand drove forward, a punch twisted into a vortex of dream.
It pierced Nirva’s heart as though it were nothing at all. Yet Ludger’s face froze coldly.
For Nirva’s body dissolved into sand, clutching Ludger’s arm.
‘A fake, a decoy for deception. Then the real one...’
Ludger’s gaze darted toward a soldier atop the wave.
One among the vanguard turned, grinning.
Already, the soldier’s appearance had changed. The blank sandy eyes now glimmered with golden light.
At that instant, Nirva’s duplicate clutching Ludger’s arm burst like an overfilled balloon.
A cloud of fine dream dust enveloped Ludger entirely.
‘A smokescreen? Or poison?’
Ludger morphed the mask on his face into a plague doctor’s mask, fully sealing his features like a gas mask.
But it was impossible to block the dream sand completely.
Already, through his breathing, the particles had entered and violently shook his mind.
“...!”
Seeing this, Nirva’s lips curled into a triumphant smile.
“How is it? This powder will grant you the most enchanting dream.”
Yet, despite his words, it was not truly poison.
If anything, it was the opposite.
Ludger’s body stiffened like a puppet with its strings cut.
He did not plummet to the ground, but hung in the air, unmoving—so much that the sight was uncanny.
The dream dust Nirva wielded burrowed into the victim’s psyche, drawing them into dreams.
And then into ever deeper sleep.
A dream within a dream.
And then, within that, another dream.
“I shall grant you the dream of the butterfly. When you awaken, perhaps no trace of Ludger Cherish will remain.”
Nirva slowly approached him.
He had removed the most dangerous threat—at least for the moment, he could savor a taste of victory.
But just as Nirva drew close enough to touch, something felt wrong.
A faint aura still stirred within Ludger, twitching ever so slightly.
Nirva twisted his body aside.
In that instant, the blade of Ludger’s swordstick darted past, grazing his shoulder.
Slice.
Nirva’s clothing tore, and for the first time, his skin bore a wound.
Golden blood splattered from the cut.
In Nirva’s wide, shocked eyes, he saw Ludger with head lowered, arm still outstretched.
“A shame. It was a perfect ambush.”
Ludger’s {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} voice carried regret at missing Nirva’s heart.
He had intended to lull his foe completely, then strike with a single killing blow—but Nirva’s quick instincts had reacted in the barest instant.
Nirva glanced down at his wound, then looked back at Ludger.
“How did you manage this?”
What troubled him more than the injury was how Ludger had resisted even after inhaling dream sand.
“In a dream already, why would I fall asleep again within it?”
“You must know my dream sand doesn’t fail for such a simple reason.”
Nirva shook his head.
“I see. My dream sand seeps into the cracks of the mind, forcing one into slumber. But you—your mind is so solid there was not even a grain’s width of space for it to enter. That’s why it failed.”
Even an iron fortress has hairline gaps in its walls.
If only an ant could squeeze through, for Nirva, that was enough.
By bursting dream sand at close range, he could always drive his enemy into sleep.
But with Ludger—there was not even that.
Could he even be called human at this point? The doubt was justified.
“Or perhaps this is your divine authority, gained by serving your god?”
“Authority, is it.”
Ludger gave a derisive laugh at the word.
Nirva’s brow twitched. Ludger’s reaction mocked his ignorance far too openly.
He could not tell if his guess had been wrong—or if it had been right, and Ludger was simply bluffing.
But one thing was certain:
Petty tricks would not work on Ludger.
“This is troublesome.”
To slay him was no simple task—his power was formidable.
In raw output, Nirva held the advantage.
But in every other aspect of battle, Ludger stood superior.
Mind games to pierce an opponent’s guard, a boundless array of bizarre spells and combat methods, and unyielding mental strength that could adapt to any situation.
Outside this world, Nirva could have crushed him with sheer might. But here, in Dreamland—where the psyche ruled—that became a disadvantage.
Ordinary humans grew weaker upon entering Dreamland.
But Ludger, shackled by constraints in reality, could wield his strength far more boldly here.
“It’s as though a sickly tiger has been given wings.”
The only way to subdue him was to drag him into a dream within a dream.
But with a psyche that solid, even that seemed impossible.
A head-on clash might not yield a conclusion at all.
So Nirva would have to rattle him—to crack that fortress of a mind.
And Nirva knew how.
“Do you know?”
Expecting another attack, Ludger tensed in caution when Nirva spoke instead. What trick was this demon preparing?
“While searching for traces of Zero Order in the middle layer, I came across quite the curious child. Faintly divine traces lingered upon her—and even her memories had been sealed.”
With a snap of his fingers, a colossal hand of dream sand rose from the ground, palm spread wide.
Inside it slept dozens of Seorn students.
Among them, a familiar face—Freuden.
But what seized Ludger’s eyes was a girl with ash-gray hair, sleeping peacefully like a princess of the forest.
“Rine...”
“I read her sealed memories through dreams.”
Nirva grinned at Ludger.
“You, it seems, have done something most vile to that girl.”
