Ch.176Beyond the Dream (4)

“…You can’t see it?”

Arba and her soldiers’ expressions were scrutinized. Llewellyn immediately knew they weren’t lying.

By now, the red-purple blood flowing from the transcendent being’s body had soaked through the black greaves, specifically the soles.

Yet seeing no mention or reaction from them confirmed it.

They couldn’t see it. Perhaps it was an illusion.

Llewellyn subtly shifted his gaze to the handle of the Screamer remaining in his right hand.

It appeared broken. But what did they see?

Llewellyn glanced at Arba. No attack had come yet, so it should be fine.

“How does this look to you?”

To his touch, only the base of the handle remained. But whether they perceived it the same was unknown.

So Llewellyn asked, and Arba replied with confusion.

“It looks like a broken weapon. Why are you holding onto that?”

Not an illusion. Llewellyn looked around for anything else and met eyes with his sister who was staring at him.

“Sister… I mean, how does Lucilla’s arm look to you?”

Arba had perceived Llewellyn and Lucilla’s battle as merely slashing at empty air.

It was bizarre. The changes clearly indicated they were fighting something.

Llewellyn recognized a familiar pattern—a perceptual distortion similar to his influence on the Three Tribes.

Sure enough, Arba responded with continued confusion.

“I don’t understand what you’re asking. Is this what you wanted me to watch carefully?”

She even showed slight irritation. Llewellyn interpreted this differently.

Either she couldn’t perceive the arm severed by spatial distortion, or she accepted it as something completely natural.

Clear perceptual distortion. Llewellyn narrowed his eyes at the still-silent transcendent being.

Its attack methods were diverse—defending, attacking, and repelling with spatial distortion.

Even if an attack connected, its effectiveness remained uncertain.

So Llewellyn contemplated.

Should he go upstairs and collapse the floor to crush it?

Given its spatial distortion ability, it would likely counter such an attack. It might even backfire.

Should he continue attacking then?

If his neck got caught, he’d die. Without knowing exactly how the spatial distortion worked, he shouldn’t rush.

But Llewellyn’s creativity wasn’t exceptional, and what divine power enhanced was his intuition.

So he couldn’t think of a solution.

His gaze naturally shifted to Ortemilia standing right behind him.

He was about to tell her to back away from danger, but before he could, Ortemilia was looking at him with firm resolve.

Llewellyn froze at those bright yellow pupils, missing his sister’s complex gaze toward him and Ortemilia.

But that wasn’t important. What mattered was what Ortemilia said.

“I can see it. That massive body and the sword stuck in it.”

Sword. Llewellyn knew the word itself was a clue. He glanced back at the transcendent being.

There was indeed a sword embedded in its body.

Whether it was truly a sword wasn’t certain, but at first glance it appeared as a linear combination resembling a sword.

As Llewellyn’s gaze fixed, Ortemilia asked:

“Arba, can you see that sword?”

“Sword? What…?”

“Arba.”

Llewellyn finally knew what he had to do.

It was close to intuition, but Llewellyn’s intuition was divinely guided.

A sixth sense that read fate and provided insight into achieving victory.

“Have the soldiers block all entrances.”

A sudden order. Yet his voice carried an undeniable authority.

Arba hesitated briefly before nodding. She knew how to prioritize matters.

The soldiers, though confused, followed their lord’s command and moved busily.

In an instant, they rushed away from the center of the cavern to block the approaching crowd in the distance.

As expected. A crowd was gathering toward the transcendent being at the center.

“Sejin.”

“Sister.”

“Do you know something?”

Llewellyn looked at his sister and confirmed she wasn’t hiding anything.

Despite being called a traitor by Netel after making some deal with him.

Even she knew nothing about this situation.

Netel seemed to know, though.

Llewellyn felt Netel’s energy stirring within him as he tossed and caught the axe handle in his right hand.

“Just a hunch. If you have a better idea, I’m listening.”

An unusual statement from him. Typically, Llewellyn would charge ahead recklessly and then berate his teammates for not following.

But he couldn’t do that with his sister.

To this man—both Llewellyn and Yoon Sejin—his sister was absolute truth and light, worthy of being humanity’s greatest intellect.

He trusted her. And to some extent, Ortemilia as well.

Llewellyn glanced at Ortemilia pressed close behind him and said:

“That sword is keeping it anchored here.”

As evidence, the transcendent being couldn’t move. Despite bleeding profusely, it remained motionless.

Even during their first encounter, it only deployed spatial distortion after making eye contact with Llewellyn, never directly moving to attack.

Even its initial attack was more like moving tentacles that sprouted from its body.

Most telling was its reaction when Llewellyn’s attack succeeded.

It distorted space to repel Llewellyn and Lucilla.

That seemed like a defensive reaction. As if preventing them from pulling out the sword at all costs.

But this raised a question. Ortemilia tilted her head in confusion.

“If it’s being restrained, essentially imprisoned, why prevent the sword from being removed?”

“I don’t know. But… that behind it is Renia, founder of the Structural School.”

Renia was the first contractor and a renowned witch.

How exactly she destroyed the world wasn’t well documented, but the world reportedly suffered countless casualties before subduing and killing her.

She clearly hadn’t died. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be here.

For whatever reason, through whatever process…

She had succeeded in binding the transcendent being to the ground. That was the transcendent being before them.

As evidence, the sword restraining it was made of the “lines” commonly used in the Structural School.

“And that thing doesn’t die. The amount of blood it’s losing—any normal being would have died long ago.”

The perception-distorted blood had already soaked up to their ankles.

Yet it showed no signs of dying. The bleeding continued relentlessly, like a flowing river.

It didn’t feel like it could be killed. That’s why Llewellyn was certain.

They needed to pull out that sword for anything to happen.

“Sister.”

“Yes?”

“Will you help me?”

Lucilla smiled. A gentle, kind smile. One that Yoon Sejin had always seen and thought he would always see.

A smile that made him feel he had truly returned.

Yes, home isn’t just a place.

Wherever his sister is, that’s home.

“Yes, anytime.”

Llewellyn felt his heart ease. He took a deep breath and handed North Wind to Lucilla.

“Let’s go.”

No tactical plan, no detailed instructions.

Nothing was decided. Nothing needed to be. Llewellyn trusted Lucilla.

He believed an experienced adventurer like her could follow whatever he attempted.

There wasn’t much of a plan anyway.

Just rush forward and pull out the sword.

Lucilla would draw attention while Llewellyn pulled the sword, then they’d see what happened.

Instead of explaining, Llewellyn looked at his sister, and Lucilla nodded, gripping North Wind.

No signal was needed. Llewellyn and Lucilla charged simultaneously.

Their launch speed was incredible.

Even Arba, with senses beyond ordinary humans, saw only blurs, while Ortemilia couldn’t even perceive their movements.

This was possible due to Lucilla’s martial prowess—top-tier even among homunculi—and Llewellyn’s physical abilities that surpassed homunculi.

Normally, one wouldn’t expect a counterattack, but as Llewellyn approached, he sensed something.

The purple blood pooled on the floor rippled. Massive energy. Something neither divine nor magical.

Though utterly unfamiliar, Llewellyn handled both anti-magic and divine power. Through his black armor, he felt intangible energy trying to constrict him, and leapt with a powerful stomp.

With a splash, the pooled blood rose in concentric circles, but Llewellyn’s form accelerated without leaving a drop.

A faint sound, barely audible, echoed in the air.

But its effect was far from subtle.

The splashed blood pattern distorted, as if squeezed by a hand.

Had he been caught, he would have died—or at least been severed in half.

As Llewellyn neared the cavern ceiling, he reached out to touch it, using pure strength to propel himself downward.

From top to bottom, then bottom to top, then forward.

With each acceleration, space distorted. Signs of spatial warping crushed the spaces Llewellyn had occupied.

Ortemilia observed these distortions, then looked at Lucilla closing in on the transcendent being from the opposite side.

Lucilla didn’t possess Llewellyn’s explosive acceleration.

Her footwork was excellent, her movements agile, her strength abundant.

But she didn’t seem exceptionally fast. This was intentional.

Consequently, far more spatial distortions targeted Lucilla than Llewellyn.

Space constantly crumpled and twisted. Lucilla actively used North Wind in her left hand to narrowly evade every attack.

With a thunderous rumble!

Spatial distortion plunged toward her. Just before contact, Lucilla expelled North Wind’s red wind to accelerate, spinning to barely escape the trajectory.

Her long black hair fluttered, and between the strands, snow-white eyes scanned the air.

With a crackling sound!

Blood froze in midair.

Llewellyn used the frozen blood where he had jumped as a foothold, leaping again.

The frozen blood crumbled, and North Wind flew toward the space Llewellyn had vacated. The hand-axe soaring through the air served as another platform.

The scene resembled a well-choreographed acrobatic performance.

Llewellyn would step on the axe and jump, using frozen blood or the ceiling as footholds.

Meanwhile, Lucilla barely evaded countless attacks from the ground, her hair flowing wildly.

That wasn’t all. She somehow retrieved North Wind and threw it toward the transcendent being—specifically at the sword of light.

The attack surged forward with a red trajectory. The transcendent being rarely condensed space to block it.

With a resounding clang!

The spatial distortion covering the sword dispersed.

Lucilla sensed murderous intent poised to erase her very existence and leapt. A large amount of blood vanished from where she had jumped.

Now she was defenseless. Even Arba, who couldn’t properly perceive the situation, felt the danger.

But Lucilla didn’t evade further. She didn’t need to.

Instead, she watched her brother plunging down above the sword.

Landing beside the sword that seemed made of condensed light, Llewellyn immediately reached out and grasped the hilt.

Violent spatial tremors targeted his neck, but without hesitation, he pulled.

Intuition guided him. Not optimism that he wouldn’t die, but certainty that something would happen first.

Purple blood sprayed. The purple light gushing like a volcano along the extracted blade glinted in the light.

The purple light spread in all directions, enveloping the surroundings before being drawn back into the transcendent being’s body like it was being scraped from the floor.

Llewellyn saw the transcendent being he stood upon begin to move.

More precisely, something that was merely the transcendent being’s shell, something that couldn’t be called alive.

Their eyes met. Though it had no eyes, he felt they met.

It both hated Llewellyn and expressed gratitude.

For what?

The new weapon. Before its name and abilities could appear on his status screen.

With a soft sound.

The ceiling collapsed, debris scattered everywhere, and rubble on the floor shot in all directions as if caught in a storm.

Llewellyn’s body flew like paper and tumbled across the floor, while even Lucilla couldn’t dodge, her hair disheveled as she rolled.

In the silence that followed, a fierce storm engulfed everything and screamed.

A silent wail. In the suddenly empty cavern, stone dust and dirt swirled, while Arba and her soldiers lay face-down, coughing and retching.

The cavern was now empty. Whatever had occupied the center was gone, making it all feel dreamlike.

Only Llewellyn’s superhuman senses could still perceive fragments of it.

[Sword of the Night Sky, Star Cluster]

[“Forgive me.”

-Renia, the magician who dreamed of eternity.

A “line” created with the last of her life force by Renia, founder of the Structural School and the first contractor, harmonizing divine power, the transcendent being’s spatial power, and magic.

Hoping someday to close the sky, hoping her mistakes would be forgotten and forgiven, she left this sword.

What do you think? Can you forgive her?]

[Sword of the Night Sky: This weapon does not physically exist.

Divine and Magical: Stored in the wearer’s soul, can be manifested at will. Restores daily at night even if destroyed.

Legendary Weapon: Adds 3 points to hit rolls and damage rolls.

Light as Clouds: When manifested and equipped, grants additional attacks equal to the wearer’s attack count.

Spatial Distortion: Critical hits with this weapon are considered weakness attacks.]

Llewellyn saw it.

The transcendent being’s shell shooting skyward at a speed beyond even his perception the moment he pulled the sword.

It had waited for this moment, discarding Llewellyn and returning.

‘But where to?’

While still dazed, wondering what had happened.

Llewellyn saw through his status screen that his sister had stopped in mid-air as she approached him.

Not just Lucilla. Ortemilia standing in the distance, Arba who had removed her helmet and was panting, and her soldiers.

Everything had stopped. Except for two things.

Llewellyn, who had pulled and now held the greatsword that had been embedded in the transcendent being.

And a woman fixed to a pillar, impaled by an enormous spear.

What Llewellyn had thought was Renia, but clearly wasn’t.

It spoke through the mouth of the long-dead magician:

“It’s been a while, Steward.”

As if it knew Llewellyn well.