Ssshhhhh.
It was a beach where waves crashed.
The shore, covered in pure white sand, stretched on endlessly, with no end in sight.
To the left, to the right—nothing could be seen except the boundary where the white sand met the sea.
Each time the foamy waves surged forward, his bare soles were soaked with a splashing sound.
Looking down, he saw he wore no shoes. Bare feet.
‘What am I doing here.’
His head felt hazy, as if just awakened from sleep.
Where this was, what he was doing here—none of it came to mind.
He only gazed endlessly...
At the horizon where the waves rolled in.
It was a silent world.
Aside from the periodic sound of the waves, there were no creatures, no voices.
‘Who am I.’
From the cloud-filled sky, faint sunlight scattered across the sea.
White light broke apart like tens of thousands of shards of glass. The waves, mingled with light, continued to rush in.
‘That’s right. I was making something.’
Ludger crouched quietly, molding the sand with his hands.
Like a child playing on the beach, he scraped together the white sand with his hands, piling and shaping it into a castle.
Too crude to be called a castle—just a clump of sand hurriedly built.
He had no idea what meaning there was in making it.
It wasn’t something he thought out.
It was simply instinct, as though he had no choice but to do it.
Ssshhhhh.
The incoming waves struck the sandcastle.
The outer wall, weakly built, collapsed and was swept away with the retreating water.
Scrape. Scrape.
Ludger pulled in more sand and patched the castle.
He built, the waves knocked it down, and he built again.
Made and broken.
Made again, and broken again.
The waves were endless. As long as the sea existed, they would keep coming.
No matter how sturdily Ludger built the castle, before the waves it was useless.
At best, he could scrape up the wreckage and barely keep it from being washed away.
And suddenly, a thought came.
‘Why am I doing this?’
No matter how hard he worked, the sandcastle would always collapse under the eternal waves.
Why put such desperate effort into something doomed to be destroyed?
Rationally, it would make more sense to give up.
Building sandcastles before the waves—was that not something even a stray dog would laugh at?
But contrary to reason, his hands kept moving, scooping sand.
Strangely, he could not give it up.
He felt that the moment he stopped, something would be lost forever, irretrievable.
He did not know what would be lost—only that the thought drove him onward.
Don’t stop.
Don’t give up.
An inaudible voice whispered to him.
Ssshhhhh.
The waves struck.
The waves were dreams, and they were someone’s memories.
Within them was an entire lifetime—birth, growth, and death.
Ludger desperately defended the sandcastle against the waves.
It’s precious.
It’s yours.
So never forget it.
Ludger suddenly realized—someone was speaking to him.
Behind him, as he built the sandcastle with all his strength, someone was cheering him on.
‘Who are you?’
Still building, he asked the question.
The encouraging voice fell silent.
It had not vanished—just stilled, as though not expecting the question to be turned back.
‘Why are you helping me?’
Ludger wanted to know.
Why did they urge him on in this meaningless act?
Why not mock him—why cheer him?
No answer came.
Instead, Ludger sensed faint laughter from the other.
Why were they smiling?
As he tried to ask, a breeze blew from beyond the horizon.
Awooooo.
Within the wind carried on the waves, came the sound of a wolf’s howl.
Ludger’s eyes opened wide.
‘Hans?’
It was a beast’s cry, but Ludger knew whose voice it was.
At the same time, the fog on his mind lifted, and his blurred reason returned with clarity.
“Yes, I am...”
He had fallen into the dream Nirva had woven, a dream without waking.
In that dream he had been a child, an old man, a soldier, a noble, a woman, a butterfly, a knight, an adventurer.
Thousands of dreams.
Thousands of memories and experiences all jumbled together, threatening to erase the self called Ludger Cherish.
But Ludger had not vanished.
In that moment, when the faint spark was nearly extinguished, fuel was cast on the fire.
The self that had been swept away by the waves returned to its true form, and Ludger realized what he must do.
“I’m getting out of here.”
For that, he had to wake from the dream.
But there was no immediate way to do so.
What Ludger could do was purely straightforward.
Break through head-on.
‘There’s no other path.’
No matter how many dreams remained, he had to keep advancing to the end without forgetting who he was.
He did not know how many more memories would flood in.
Now, alone at the helm, he would cross the raging sea of waves.
If swept away, if his ship was swallowed, everything would end.
A perilous voyage where only another’s salvation could seem to matter—
“It’s worth it.”
He would not rely on salvation.
No matter the hardship, in the end the one who must overcome crisis was himself.
The only one who could save him—was himself.
* * *
Sedina and Julia ran with all their strength.
While the beast of Jévaudan and Nirva fought, they had to get as far away as possible.
As the distant roars and explosions faded, the noise suddenly stopped.
The fight was over.
“Wh-what happened?”
Julia looked bewildered.
It was the natural reaction when she did not know who had won.
Sedina’s expression, however, was grim.
Whether the beast of Jévaudan won, or Nirva won—it was equally bad.
But it was the silence that troubled her.
If the beast had won, it would not be this quiet.
‘That means...’
The worst had happened.
Nirva had triumphed.
‘Hans-sunbae.’
The thought that Hans had fallen made Sedina want to turn back and rescue him at once.
But she forced herself to suppress the urge.
From the course of the battle before they fled, it was unlikely Hans—transformed into the beast of Jévaudan—had been defeated easily.
This silence meant more likely Nirva had used some method to separate himself from Hans.
‘Yes. Nirva must be in a very worn-down state now. There’s no way the fight ended in an instant.’
Finishing her judgment, Sedina urged Julia on.
“Julia. We have to keep running. That demon will be after us now.”
Once Nirva had marked them, no matter where they fled, there would be no escaping his grasp.
But if they could reunite with the others, there might at least be a chance to counterattack—better than being taken down without doing anything at all.
Just as Sedina said this, a golden shimmer flared beyond the twisted darkness in the distance.
“He’s already here!”
Nirva’s speed was terrifying.
He shot toward them through a local sandstorm, his face split by a grotesque, chilling smile.
“Where do you think you’re going? Did you really think running away would let you escape me?”
Sedina bit her lip.
A direct clash was impossible. Not only had she spent too much strength, even at full power she was no match for Nirva as he was now.
She had to stall for time somehow.
“...What happened to that monster?”
“Don’t you understand from the fact that I came personally to find you?”
“You must think I’m a fool. But tell me—who was it that floundered against that monster? Seems you couldn’t settle the fight properly.”
At her jab, Nirva’s expression twisted.
Sedina pressed the advantage.
“Do you even know what that monster really is?”
“A monster is a monster. What else could it be?”
Good. She had caught his attention.
“That was a person. Someone I know well.”
She wasn’t lying.
Before the Apostle of Dreams, a careless lie would be exposed instantly.
‘I’m sorry, sunbae.’
Feeling guilty toward Hans, Sedina nevertheless chose to sell his information to buy time.
He would learn it eventually anyway—better to bring it up now to distract him.
“He only has a peculiar constitution. He’s not really that strong.”
“Ridiculous. How could a mere constitution produce such a monster?”
Nirva’s eyes flared, searching for truth.
What he saw confirmed it: Sedina was telling the truth.
That was surprising.
That creature—his greatest counter—was actually human?
“When he comes into contact with a beast’s factor, he transforms into that beast. Because of that, he was able to wield the power of a cryptid that once terrorized an entire nation.”
“The power of a cryptid... You mean that monster.”
“The beast of Jévaudan. A very famous cryptid.”
“So what? That thing isn’t here now.”
“That’s not the point. You couldn’t defeat it either—you had to use tricks to escape the fight, didn’t you?”
Obvious provocation, but Nirva, already in a foul mood, took the bait.
His eyes narrowed, murderous intent spilling out and choking Sedina and Julia by the throat.
Sedina swallowed hard.
“But there are still strong ones here who can kill that monster. I know at least two.”
Two humans capable of slaying what he had failed to—did that not imply the Apostle of Dreams was inferior to mere humans?
His pride, already battered, writhed. Being placed beneath humans was unbearable.
Yet Nirva did not strike.
He even jerked his chin at her, as if to say, Go on.
“One is a mighty warrior of the beastkin, the other a very skilled knight. Both are extraordinary—far beyond what you could handle carelessly.”
“The beastkin and the knight. You mean those two.”
He remembered.
After losing an arm to Franz, those two had ambushed him.
The massive beastkin who hurled a harpoon, and the brown-skinned blond man with strange swordsmanship.
They had worn masks to hide themselves, but such petty disguises had been obvious to him.
Could they really slay that monster?
Nirva’s eyes gleamed again, seeking truth.
What he found was an ambiguous truth.
Not a lie, but not certain either.
Sedina herself had never witnessed the true power of the beast of Jévaudan. She only knew from hearsay that it was a great cryptid.
But she had seen ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) Phantos and Alex fight many times.
Alex, who grew stronger every moment, and Phantos, his equal.
If anyone could hunt the beast, it was them—she had that faint conviction.
So Nirva could not dismiss her words outright.
“Wherever they are, they’re growing stronger even now. Strong enough to threaten you.”
Sedina’s point was simple: there was no need for him to waste time here.
It might look like she was foisting everything onto her seniors—but in truth, she believed in them.
More precisely, she believed in Owens.
With Ludger absent, they were the strongest she knew of.
“If even part of your words are true, then yes, those two are dangerous. But why should I move to eliminate them myself?”
Nirva did not take the bait.
He grinned slyly at Sedina’s disappointed face.
“Why? Did you think I wouldn’t see through such a shallow ploy?”
“That’s...”
“Exactly. And do you know why I listened to your little story? To make sure you won’t escape this time.”
Already, the surroundings had been sealed by sand.
“If I absorb your energy, I’ll recover far more than from ordinary humans. And then, one by one, I’ll devour the people you hold dear. Don’t be too lonely.”
Sedina bit her lip.
She knew her struggle was meaningless.
Still, she also knew—if you surrendered everything at the moment of crisis and despair, it was truly the end.
That was what Ludger had taught her.
Even if hopeless, one must resist to the very last.
Sedina met Julia’s eyes.
Julia gave her a nod, as if to say, You did well.
A faint smile curved Sedina’s lips.
Her resistance hadn’t been meaningless.
Flash!
White light burst from behind Julia.
Nirva frowned.
“What trick is this? A flash of light to blind me? Or do you call this pitiful thing an attack?”
“This isn’t an attack. It’s a signal flare.”
“What?”
“Did you think we were only running aimlessly?”
Even while fleeing, Julia had been analyzing the structure of this infinite prison.
Without pause. Without stop.
Even as Sedina bought time.
“I’ve finished analyzing the basic framework of this prison.”
“My space, unraveled so easily...?”
“You must have forgotten who I am.”
Julia sneered at him.
“I’m the next Master of the Dream School.”
The light intensified.
It wasn’t a bluff. As Nirva lunged to stop her, the ceiling opened—and a column of pink light poured down.
Nirva abandoned his charge and leapt back.
Thud.
With light steps, a single flower landed upon the ground.
“To think an old monster would hound young students like this. As Headmaster, I can’t simply overlook it.”
Elisa Willow smiled brightly at Nirva.
But her eyes were not smiling in the least.
