The sympathetic interference generated by the violent Tier 9 mana caused the entire viewpoint of the projected recording to tremble.
Caliera had originally hoped that one of the great demons would wake first and help her seal away Fourth Progenitor Eduardo, but now the situation had teetered onto the brink of total catastrophe.
Furthermore, Caliera had noticed just moments ago that Tenth Progenitor Ulysses cared far less about helping Eduardo blow up the Demon King's Castle than he did about securing the little wolf girl.
A war destined to convulse both the Northern and Southern Continents was already inevitable; whatever the Blood Clan desired, she could least afford to give them.
Yet Fall Lord Caliera could not find a single great demon who showed any promise of breaking free from the Land of Gentle Slumber.
The only thing she knew for certain was that the little wolf girl was trapped exceptionally deep within her dream, drawing a substantial portion of the Land of Gentle Slumber's mana.
And even that was a mere drop in the ocean compared to the peak Tier 7 Glow Demon beside the wolf girl.
This couldn't help but prompt the Fall Lord to subconsciously peer into what sort of dream held the Glow Demon beside her.
In a mere instant, the Fall Lord was submerged into a completely new world as unstable ripples washed across the surrounding space.
When the projected footage before Lanqi and Hyperion lit up once more, it was no longer the scene of the regency hall in Naicalis Palace.
Caliera stood like a translucent specter beside a cathedral.
The mercurial sky of this world displayed an ever-shifting spectrum of colors, transitioning from dawn's gentle pastel blues and pinks to twilight's golden reds.
Whether time flowed swiftly or crawled, the climate remained forever mild and pleasant. Sunlight filtered down through wisps of clouds, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of blossoms and crisp, fresh air.
And the master of this dream stood at the far end of the cathedral.
He was no longer the white-haired Glow Demon from the palace, but a spirited young human man with black hair, looking around thirty years old.
His hair was meticulously combed, exposing his ears, where an earring caught a faint glimmer of reflected light.
The black-haired, green-eyed youth gazed around him in a daze.
He was standing beneath the magnificent dome of St. Trick Cathedral in his homeland, the Horning Empire.
Statues and murals of deities looked as though the gods themselves had descended from the heavens to silently bestow blessings upon those below.
The air was steeped in a sacred aura. Every ornament in the Age of Gods style bore witness to the passage of time, interweaving with the pure white and pale gold blossoms tracing the walls and arches to form a dreamy corridor.
The young man seemed utterly lost, unaware of why he was standing there.
"Lankeluosi."
Until a soft, airy voice called his name from behind.
He turned around.
Crosses, kaleidoscopic paintings upon the dozens of meters of towering walls, and stained-glass windows refracted the sunlight into myriad sparkling particles, dusting the pale gold and white petals.
A silver-haired woman stood holding a bouquet of flowers, dressed in a gown she would never normally wear.
A faint smile graced her lips.
The gossamer gown she wore was pure and flawless, its airy, splendid hem trailing softly against the carpet.
Brushed by a soft breeze, the white and gold blossoms appeared all the gentler, exuding an elegant, captivating fragrance.
At the end of the flower-strewn aisle...
...there she stood.
"..."
His eyes wide, he stared blankly at the figure in the wedding dress, frozen where he stood.
This moment felt like eternity.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," she said with a smile.
Only now did the black-haired youth realize that the cathedral was filled to capacity. Row upon row of pews were occupied by family, friends, and comrades-in-arms whom he thought he would never see again.
Suddenly, the black-haired youth felt afraid to speak to the people gathered before him in the cathedral. He was terrified that, unable to distinguish dream from reality, it would abruptly twist back into a nightmare, robbing him once again of this fierce yet tranquil happiness.
It was so wondrous that he was on the verge of losing himself completely.
"No... this isn't right."
His lips trembled as his thoughts churned.
It felt as if there had been a nightmare—he had dreamed of a world worse than death, where his homeland, his family, and his friends were all gone.
A wedding with Miss Witch?
He could no longer tell which side was the dream.
Sometimes impressions from a dream ran so deep that one could scarcely tell whether they were lived memories or mere lingering traces from a night's sleep.
In the end...
His eyes burned, and as if his body acted beyond his control, he rushed forward and pulled Miss Witch into an embrace.
"I missed you so much. I have so much I want to tell you."
Ignoring the eruption of cheers and shouts from the loved ones in the cathedral, he held Miss Witch tight and murmured to her.
No matter how loud the clamor grew, it could not drive a wedge between them.
Even Caliera, watching as a translucent ghost from the sidelines, could only sigh.
This cathedral in the dream was, in reality, likely a graveyard.
Not a single person mourned by this Glow Demon was still alive.
It was no wonder he had sunk so deep; in reality, he had nothing left.
Yet just as Caliera was preparing to leave...
...she abruptly froze.
Because she saw—
Miss Witch was momentarily taken aback, then slowly lifted her hands and rested them on the black-haired youth's back.
Her smile held a touch of indulgence, tinged with sorrow and helplessness.
"Wake up," Miss Witch said to the black-haired youth, reluctance heavy in her voice.
"What... did you say...?"
The youth's voice was stiff, as if he understood something, yet didn't understand at all.
"This is a dream. A dream you can never fulfill, yet cannot pull yourself from. If you stay here, your soul will dissolve," Miss Witch whispered softly into his ear.
"No, no, that makes even less sense. If this is a dream meant to entice me to fall, then why... why would you try to drive me away?" he questioned, his voice trembling.
"Even though I have passed away, I will protect you just as I promised," Miss Witch continued, raising her hand to gently caress his earring. "Remember, Lankeluosi. Sixteen years ago, in that late autumn, I already..."
"Don't say it!"
Tears welled from the corners of his eyes. Like a child refusing to get out of bed, he pleaded to indulge for even one more second.
"Sigh..."
Miss Witch lowered her gaze in a helpless smile. She had never imagined that the man she once thought invincible would fall so deep into an illusion spell like this.
Yet she remained patient.
They held each other like that for who knew how long.
It seemed like ages, yet perhaps it was only a fleeting instant.
Outside the projected footage, in the space beneath the starlit sky...
Hyperion watched the screen, the dim flickering light and shadow from the recording playing across her face.
The voices of the Child of the Sun and Miss Witch from the Shadow World recording echoed through the space.
Gradually immersed in the story, Hyperion felt as if cut off from the rest of the world. She stared at the young woman's figure on screen, somewhat dazed.
She knew that Miss Witch's simple words brought only greater agony to the Child of the Sun, who was already struggling to tear himself away from the Land of Gentle Slumber.
What he feared was neither death nor living, but a parting with no hope of reunion.
Chapter 608