NOVPUBThe violent interference of Ninth-order magic power caused the entire shadowy tableau to tremble.
Initially, Calila had hoped a member of the Great Demon Clan would awaken first to assist her in sealing the Fourth Ancestor Eduado, but now the situation had become extremely critical.
Moreover, Calila had just realized that Naikarisu, the Tenth Ancestor, was less interested in helping the Fourth Ancestor Eduado destroy Demon King’s Castle than he was in that Little Wolf Girl.
A major war that would rock the North and South Continent was already inevitable, the more the Blood Clan wanted something, the less she was willing to give it to them.
But Fallen Lord Calila now found no hopeful signs that a member of the Great Demon Clan would break free from Gentle Town.
The only thing she was certain of was that the Little Wolf Girl was deeply trapped in a dream, to which Gentle Town had allocated quite a bit of magic power.
Compared to the Seventh-order limit Radiant Demon by the Little Wolf Girl’s side, all of this was but a drop in the ocean.
This inadvertently made Fallen Lord Calila take a covert glance at the Radiant Demon by the Little Wolf Girl’s side, wondering what the dream was really like.
In just an instant, Fallen Lord Calila found herself immersed in a brand new world, where the surrounding space rippled with instability.
When Lanci and Hyperion’s tableau brightened again, the scene was no longer that of the Royal City Regency Hall.
Calila stood aside a cathedral like a transparent ghost.
The ever-changing sky of this world displayed a spectrum of colors, from the soft pink-blue of dawn to the golden-red hue of dusk.
Regardless of the speed of time, the climate was always mild and pleasant, the sun filtered through the light clouds, and a breeze carried the scent of flowers and fresh air.
The master of this dreamscape stood at the far end of the church.
He was no longer the white-haired Radiant Demon from the palace, but rather a spirited black-haired human youth in his thirties.
His hair was meticulously groomed, revealing his ears, and a faint reflected light passed over his earrings.
The black-haired, green-eyed young man seemed quite bewildered, staring around.
He stood beneath the majestic dome of St. Trick Cathedral in his homeland, the Huo Ning Empire.
The statues and murals of deities seemed to descend from the skies, silently bestowing blessings from above.
The air was filled with a sacred fragrance, the Divine Era-style decorations, each a testament to time, intertwined with pure white and soft gold flowers lining the walls and arches, weaving a corridor of dreams.
The young man appeared confused, unsure why he was standing there.
"Lankros."
It wasn’t until a gentle calling sounded from behind, calling his name.
He turned around.
The cross and the various light and shadow icons on the walls high above and the stained-glass windows refracted sunlight into countless particles, lightly sprinkling on those white-gold petals.
A silver-haired woman stood in a dress she would never normally wear, holding a bouquet.
She wore a faint smile.
The light fabric of the dress, pure and flawless, elegantly flowed over the carpet.
The white-gold flowers softened under the breeze, exuding a delicate and enchanting fragrance.
At the end of the path of flowers.
She stood there.
"..."
His eyes wide, he stared at the figure in the wedding dress, then couldn’t move an inch.
That moment felt like eternity.
"I kept you waiting," she said with a smile.
It was only then that the black-haired young man realized that the church was filled with people, row upon row of seats occupied by his family and comrades he thought he’d never see again.
The black-haired youth suddenly felt uneasy about speaking more with the people in the church, afraid he couldn’t distinguish dream from reality, and that it might morph into a nightmare, causing him to lose this intense yet stable happiness once again.
A happiness so profound it made him nearly forget himself.
"No, that’s not right."
His lips trembling, he pondered.
It seemed like a nightmare, he dreamed of a world where it was better to be dead, where his hometown, his family, his friends, no longer existed.
A wedding with Miss Witch?
He could no longer distinguish which was the dream.
Sometimes the impression of a dream was so deep that he couldn’t tell if it was a real memory or just remnants from a dream one night.
Ultimately,
he only felt his eyes stinging, and uncontrollably, he ran forward and embraced Miss Witch.
"I really missed you so much, there are so many things I want to share with you."
Ignoring the cheers and shouts erupting from the families and friends in the church, he just held Miss Witch tightly and spoke to her.
No matter how noisy it became, it seemed like it couldn’t separate them.
Even Calila, who had turned into a transparent ghost watching from the side, could only sigh.
This church in the dream, if placed in reality, was probably a graveyard.
Not a single person cherished by the Radiant Demon was still alive. 𝓃𝓸𝓋𝓅𝓊𝒷.𝓬𝓸𝓂
No wonder he had fallen so deeply; he just had nothing in reality.
However, just when Calila was about to leave,
Calila suddenly stopped again.
Because she saw—
Miss Witch initially looked stunned, then slowly raised her hand, placing it on the black-haired youth’s back.
Her smile carried a bit of indulgence, and also some sadness and helplessness.
"Wake up,"
Miss Witch said to the black-haired youth, with reluctance in her voice.
"You said... what...?"
The black-haired youth’s voice was rigid, as if he understood something, yet as if he understood nothing at all.
"This is a dream, a dream you’re bound to not realize yet cannot pull yourself away from, if you continue to stay here, your soul will dissolve,"
Miss Witch whispered gently into his ear.
"No, no, this is even less possible now, if this is a dream that deceives me into falling, why then, why would you tell me to leave?"
He questioned with a trembling voice.
"Even though I’ve died, I will keep the promise to protect you,"
Miss Witch continued, as she gently stroked his earring,
"Remember, Lankros, I already on that deep autumn sixteen years ago..."
"Don’t say anymore!"
He cried, like a child refusing to wake from bed, indulging even for one more second.
"Sigh..."
Miss Witch, with a hint of helplessness in her downcast smile, never expected that the man she thought invincible would fall so deeply into such a phantasmagorical magic.
Yet she remained patient.
They embraced like this, not knowing for how long.
It seemed like a long time, yet maybe it was just a fleeting moment.
Outside the painted scene, in the space under the starry sky.
Hyperion watched the screen, with the dim light and shadow of the image reflected on his face, sometimes bright, sometimes dark.
The voices of the Son of the Sun and Miss Witch from the Shadow World recording echoed in this space.
Hyperion gradually immersed himself in the story, as if cut off from the world, staring blankly at the image of the girl on screen.
He knew that Miss Witch’s simple words made the Son of the Sun, already struggling to escape Gentle Town, even more pained.
What he feared was not death, nor was it living, but the separation of never being able to meet again.
