Cloney slowly gazed at the crumbling sky.
It was clear that the world had been turned upside down.
Her enlightenment had risen.
That much was certain.
Yet, the way out of this world was still not in sight.
Shaaaaa…
Cloney, standing tall, watched countless landscapes and people vanish like dust around her.
Everything was disappearing.
Empress Brigitte. Bell. Hestia.
Cloney swept her gaze over the figures vanishing before her eyes.
Still, there was no ‘exit’ from this nightmare to be seen.
Blackout.
The world darkened.
“…Ah.”
Cloney gaped, her mouth ajar.
From within the thick darkness, a beam of light flowed down.
– Well done, Cloney.
It was Yuma’s voice.
The realm of nightmares unleashed by Morg was slowly crumbling.
As the nightmare disintegrated, memories began to seep into Cloney’s mind.
All the events that had occurred before being trapped in the nightmare clawed at her brain.
Alongside the scene of Yuma slaying Barbatos, every recent event of Yuma wiping out the remaining gods invading the Intermediate World surged through.
And even the moment she was struck by the curse attack of Morg, the ‘God of the Precarious Mace.’
The feeling of accomplishment in breaking the nightmare was fleeting.
The sheer weight of not even being able to resist the curse crushed her spirit.
As the nightmare fell apart, Yuma, now able to interfere with Cloney’s mindscape, spoke.
– You made it through well.
A beam of light began to gather before Cloney’s eyes.
– Follow me.
Cloney stepped forward into the pitch-black world.
– It’s time to go outside now.
*
Yuma slowly opened his eyes.
His right hand was gripping Cloney’s right wrist.
He gradually released the hand he had seized to enter Cloney’s mindscape.
Bell’s eyes widened at that action.
“Y-Yuma. Is Cloney okay?”
Bell’s urgent question reached Yuma’s ears. He nodded.
“She’ll be fine.”
The path had definitely opened.
Now, it was just a matter of slowly lifting the fog and stepping outside.
Yuma turned his gaze to another someone trapped in the nightmare.
Hestia, the Cat-Folk Swordswoman and Saintess of the God of War.
It was now time to wake Hestia.
Yuma grabbed the wrist of Hestia, who was lying on the bed.
*
Hestia was smiling brightly.
“Mom.”
Her family was right before her eyes.
Family.
A village where blood relatives all lived together.
Sixteen-year-old Hestia looked at a Cat-Folk woman who looked just like her.
Camerlen.
“Go collect some tea leaves with your younger siblings.”
“Okay!”
With a bright response, Hestia began climbing the mountain with her younger siblings, Calion and Peln.
Thirteen-year-old Calion and ten-year-old Peln showed no signs of annoyance even while running errands. Instead, they climbed the mountain with cheerful smiles.
For Cat-Folk, the forest and fields were like friends, so it might have been a given.
“Hey, sis.”
Hestia grinned as she saw Peln staring at her intently.
“Yeah, Peln?”
Peln looked so much like Hestia that she could be considered a smaller version of her. With bright red hair and green eyes.
“I heard you’ve been learning sword techniques from Dad lately!”
Hestia chuckled as she looked into Peln’s sparkling eyes.
Peln didn’t have quite the same eagerness for swordsmanship as Hestia; she just wanted to learn because her older sister was. It was a cute little pout.
Hestia gently patted Peln’s long red hair.
“But Peln, you’re not really that interested in swordsmanship, are you?”
Hestia smiled at Peln’s expression of being caught.
“Well…! That’s true!”
Calion responded even faster than Hestia to Peln’s firm reply.
“That was too quick to admit, Peln.”
“Really? Hehe.”
Peln smiled shyly at her older brother Calion’s words.
Hestia looked at Peln and spoke again.
“But Peln, you’re really good with your hands. You could help mom with her work.”
Peln slowly nodded in agreement with Hestia’s words but suddenly puffed her cheeks in a small show of discontent.
“The Rune Wood tribe’s heir rule! A chosen heir of the Cat-Folk must leave the village the moment they turn seventeen, go out for five years to see the world, and then return!”
Peln clung adorably to Hestia’s left leg.
“Sis, you’re going to leave the village soon.”
Hestia picked Peln up with a princess carry.
“Of course, sis is leaving! Are you trying to learn swordsmanship because you don’t want me to go?”
“Are you trying to learn swordsmanship so we can go together?”
Peln nodded vigorously while being held in Hestia’s arms.
“Yeah!”
“But you’re scared of swords, Peln. How about learning magic like mom?”
Peln raised her arms high and asked.
“Magic…? If I learn that, can I follow you, sis?”
At Peln’s words, Hestia slowly shook her head.
“You have to stay in the village; I’m leaving alone.”
Peln puffed her cheeks out again.
“…Sis, I don’t want to. I hate it. Put me down!”
Hestia continued walking forward, still holding Peln.
Someone was trailing behind the three as they climbed the mountain.
That someone was none other than Duke Yuma.
Of course, Hestia and the other three Cat-Folk didn’t notice Yuma quietly following them.
Yuma couldn’t directly appear in the [Nightmare].
‘Besides, Hestia’s dream is far from a nightmare.’
Nightmare.
Contrary to its dictionary definition, it was a peaceful world at first glance.
Yuma once again recalled his conversation with Legolas from the Join Tribe, who was well-versed in curses.
– A nightmare in the context of curses isn’t a nightmare at all times.
– During the happiest times… whether it’s past memories or shaped current memories. Getting trapped in happiness is even more dangerous.
– It’s several times harder to recognize it as a dream than a nightmare.
Legolas’s final words, spoken with a serious expression, left a lasting impression.
– Especially past happiness is harder to escape from.
– Because those things that you can’t gain in the current situation were present in the past. Family… friends. Those connections.
Yuma saw with his own eyes that those words were true.
Hestia’s dream was proof of Legolas’s words.
Hestia looked at her younger brother, Kallion.
“You picked a lot. Tea leaves.”
Kallion chuckled as he watched Hestia slightly bend her knees to match his eye level.
“Since you only picked a few while talking with Peln, I did the rest.”
“I see. Hehe, when did you grow up so nicely, my little brother?”
Swoosh-
As Kallion stroked his head, he scrunched up his brows.
“Aaaah! Don’t pet my head!”
Kallion clearly didn’t want to be treated like a kid anymore.
“Hehehe.”
“Uwaaaaaah!”
Ignoring Kallion’s protests, Hestia petted his head a few more times before finally putting her hand down.
The three picked leaves until the sun slowly began to set.
Gurgle…
That was the sound of hunger coming from Peln.
Hestia approached with a bright smile and pinched Peln’s chubby cheeks.
“Peln, you’re hungry!”
At Hestia’s words, Peln’s face turned red. She looked embarrassed.
“Hehe, so shall we head down now?”
Karyon slung a bag filled with herb leaves and tea leaves over his shoulder.
“Yeah, the sun’s going down. Sister.”
And then it happened.
Kuguguguguung!
Something came charging through the forest.
It was a gigantic wild boar.
The boar charged towards them, bellowing loudly.
Without hesitation, Hestia drew the sword strapped to her back.
Ssergak!
The red blade sliced down diagonally, piercing through the boar’s body like lightning.
The massive boar’s bulk slowly tilted.
Thud thud…!
Hestia swung her sword vertically, shaking off the blood splattered all over it.
She rushed over to her frozen siblings.
“Are you hurt?”
“Um….”
In response to Hestia’s question, Peln nodded blankly, while Karyon slowly approached the dead boar.
“Hurt or not, you killed it before it could charge us, Sister.”
“Hmmm!”
Hestia scratched her head, looking troubled.
“I didn’t bring anything we could carry the boar with!”
Karyon sighed as he spoke.
“But Mother gave us the Spatial Pocket for situations like this.”
Hestia’s eyes widened at Karyon’s words.
“Ah, that’s right!”
Then, unlike Peln’s plump cheeks, she pulled at Karyon’s slender ones.
“Wuuh!”
“Indeed, Karyon is clever!”
Hestia took out the Spatial Pocket and, with Karyon’s help, stuffed the boar’s corpse inside.
It was also a unique custom of the Cat-Folk not to pack in the tea leaves and herbs, reflecting the Roonwood tribe’s habit of pushing their children towards physical training.
“Let’s go!”
With a cheerful shout, Hestia led the way, followed by the two Cat-Folk.
And behind them trailed a man.
To them, he was Duke Yuma, whom they were oblivious to.
‘…How.’
How could I make Hestia realize this situation is a dream?
Yuma’s mind was filled with that thought as he walked.
As they went down, the three chatted cheerfully, their faces all lit up with smiles.
