Ch.210Night’s God (1)

“By wife, do you mean the Goddess of Night?”

Llewellyn spoke calmly despite his confusion.

He didn’t want to embarrass himself if there was a misunderstanding, and perhaps there was something he didn’t know—maybe the God of Dreams had more than one wife.

So Llewellyn asked, and the God of Dreams showed a bitter smile for a moment. Despite being just a woman’s head, the emotion was clearly visible.

“Yes, the Goddess of Night… my wife… my other half.”

It wasn’t meant as a romantic expression.

Llewellyn remembered hearing similar words about the Goddess of Night before, so he finally voiced the question he had been suppressing.

“By the Goddess of Night, you mean your wife who participated in the Great Ascension, right? The Goddess of Night that I know?”

“I’m not sure if I should say you know her, but if you’re referring to what I’ve explained before… then yes.”

He was being unusually evasive. Llewellyn could sense the anxiety hidden in those words.

This was, in a way, irritability—a typical reaction of humans who feel anxious and fear the worst outcome.

But one thing bothered him.

‘…Are gods no different from humans?’

This wasn’t how a god with infinite power—as long as there was even one human dreaming beyond human limits—should behave.

Rather, it was disconcertingly human. Llewellyn rolled his eyes to look at Melody, then at Eshatherna.

Eshatherna seemed completely thoughtless. If she had any thought at all, it was probably just wanting to be petted by Llewellyn’s hand.

Melody, on the other hand, seemed to notice Llewellyn’s gaze and snapped out of her contemplation.

“We were told the Great Ascension failed. The proof being that no gods returned, and people like us don’t know about the existence of gods… right?”

There was no answer. When no response came, Melody tilted her head and tugged on Llewellyn’s arm.

“Hey, Llewellyn. Is the God of Dreams not here?”

“…No, he’s right here.”

The God of Dreams, belatedly realizing she was blind, wore an unpleasant expression.

He looked troubled, clearly showing that he too had considered this possibility.

He revealed this sentiment plainly as he spoke.

“Yes, I know. I said with my own mouth that the Great Ascension failed. That it could only have failed, that there was no way it could have succeeded.”

His face contorted in agony. Llewellyn saw a man suffering beneath an awkward expression that didn’t suit him.

“But… but how could I not recognize the Goddess of Night? When my beloved calls to me just as she always did… just as she did before leaving for the Great Ascension. How—”

“Talking head.”

The smiling elf spoke, making the rambling god flinch. As his eyes rolled, the elf placed her index finger on her lips.

“Please calm yourself. You’re troubling the little lord.”

“Oh, I’m fine. A little more blood wouldn’t…”

A brief silence fell. Esha seemed thoughtless, while Melody tilted her head, pondering what that meant.

“Llewellyn!”

Smack!

She suddenly realized what he meant and slapped Llewellyn’s forearm.

The clear sound rang out. Llewellyn flinched as the slap landed on his exposed skin.

It didn’t hurt, but it definitely felt like being scolded.

Though her Adoration wasn’t activated, Melody immediately put her hands on her hips and confronted him.

“You can’t say things like that! No matter what, there are things you should and shouldn’t say…!”

“Ah, I understand. I understand. I’m sorry.”

But inwardly, Llewellyn had no intention of taking it back.

Having lived with his sister for a long time, Llewellyn was familiar with women. To him, what the God of Dreams was displaying was a classic case of hysteria and panic disorder.

In other words, what could be summarized as ‘having a fit.’

The God of Dreams gaped at the rudeness directed at him, which he could hardly believe, then sighed.

“Yes, I was indeed acting like a woman.”

“That’s offensive to this woman here. I’m going to throw something.”

“Wait, wait! I take it back! I’ll correct myself!”

“Fine. I’ll let it go this time.”

Eshatherna smiled sweetly.

Even if it was someone she liked, an assassin who could stab at will was superior to a god, and the God of Dreams groaned in her grasp.

“The point.”

“The point, yes. The point…”

The God of Dreams glanced at Llewellyn nervously before speaking.

“I told you that the Goddess of Night, my wife, is calling for me and you.”

This was something he’d already mentioned. But repetition meant it was important.

And indeed it was. A god who had disappeared into the Great Ascension had appeared and was calling?

Directly to the God of Dreams?

Something was suspicious. Not coming to find them, but calling?

The God of Dreams knew this well.

“My wife… said she would wait at the place where the Gods of Life and Death died last time.”

Yet he couldn’t ignore it. The long emptiness and loneliness had eaten away at him. With only his head remaining, he pleaded.

“Please, please, will you come with me?”

*

“…Anyone can see it’s a trap, right?”

Melody said after the God of Dreams had withdrawn with Eshatherna.

“Well, it would be strange if it weren’t.”

The God of Dreams knew it too. His expression had been troubled even as he left.

Everyone here knew it was a trap, yet Llewellyn couldn’t readily agree to go.

So he sent him away saying he would think about it. Llewellyn felt uneasy, but knew this was the best option.

The request was too obviously a trap to accept.

But there were too many concerns to simply ignore it.

It probably wasn’t a trap set by the God of Dreams himself, but Llewellyn couldn’t understand how someone impersonating the Goddess of Night had managed to deceive the God of Dreams.

‘The God of Dreams isn’t just any god. Even in a world like this, there are people who dream. Whether it’s dreams during sleep… or dreams of the future.’

Even in these times, human dreams couldn’t be blocked. Llewellyn knew this well.

The Cannibal Baron was like that, Ethan was like that.

And so was the shapeshifter he had to kill again not long ago.

Everyone dreams. Regardless of good or evil, as long as they were human, they were bound to dream in some direction.

So the God of Dreams is powerful. He has to be. If someone had deceived such a god.

‘…Could it be related to Mother?’

Netel, something that seemed to be a transcendent being or perhaps a god, the will of this land.

The thought suddenly occurred to him that it might be connected to her.

“Llewellyn?”

There hadn’t been any problems recently with Netel plotting or doing anything, but essentially, Netel was the only being that could be considered an enemy.

She could be called the root of all evil. Llewellyn still remembered how she had tried to devour him.

And if this was indeed Netel’s doing, it meant it was time to carry out what Llewellyn had proudly declared in front of everyone not long ago.

“Llewellyn? Did you leave me behind…?”

“No matter how quiet I am, I wouldn’t do that. Or are you deliberately saying that?”

“Ah, you caught me.”

“‘Ah, you caught me,’ she says.”

Llewellyn gently stroked Melody’s head as she clung to his arm again.

Melody’s hair rustling in his hand felt pleasant, perhaps due to her uniquely high body temperature, and it smelled nice too.

A different scent from Sister Islana. Llewellyn stood dazed for a moment, intoxicated by Melody’s fragrance.

“…Melody.”

“Yes?”

“Do you remember what I said before? About Mother Netel plotting something—”

“That you’d go and crush her? I think you said something like that… Oh.”

Melody’s shoulders jerked as she stopped mid-sentence. Her outfit revealed her shoulders, but she wasn’t shivering from cold.

“You don’t mean this is…”

“It’s a possibility, but doesn’t it seem plausible?”

“Hmm, certainly.”

The girl, nearly two heads shorter than Llewellyn, took his hand and moved it to her cheek, burying her face in his large palm as she agreed.

“Then… I guess it’s time to put those words into action.”

Her expression softened. Though she knew it was a trap, Melody was calculating Llewellyn’s words and their forces.

Lucilla, herself, Islana, and Lorian.

And if that wasn’t enough, they could even bring Valterok. Their forces were more than sufficient.

She thought that no matter what kind of trap it was, with enough preparation and vigilance, there would be no danger.

And that wasn’t all.

Melody had recently been researching and looking up documents about Adorers.

Most of the wanted criminals who had struck back against any surprise attack and repeatedly found gaps to escape through encircling armies, terrorizing the entire empire, were Adorers.

They didn’t fall into traps, and they struck at the weaknesses of armies with such precision that it seemed as if someone had told them the future, creating escape routes.

Llewellyn was like that too. He was a superhuman who had already achieved the impossible multiple times, and according to the self-proclaimed God of Dreams, a god.

A being no different from a transcendent in hierarchy. After lengthy consideration, Melody nodded in agreement.

“Alright. But just in case, let’s take everyone. Then…”

“No.”

Melody froze. Her head, which had been about to tilt, stopped, blocked by Llewellyn’s hand.

“What? What do you…”

“They might be planning to rob an empty house.”

If this was indeed “Mother’s” doing, the trap wouldn’t end so simply.

Something might happen at the Temple of All Gods while the core forces were away.

“So I won’t take everyone. I’m thinking of taking just a few people.”

Normally, this would be when Melody would correct him and argue, trying to persuade him to take everyone.

But Llewellyn didn’t wait.

Rather, this was an opportunity to solve most of the current problems.

“I’m going to take the Sword Saint.”

“…What?”

Melody opened her mouth in surprise, and Llewellyn smiled as he observed her expression.

She looked like she wanted to say it was absurd, that it couldn’t possibly work.

But Llewellyn was confident.

After all, he had seen the Sword Saint’s life directly, held it in his hand and wielded it.

In the trajectory of the Sword Saint’s life, there had been countless things that could be called traps.

Though many of them were ones he hadn’t intended to fall into, even when he knew they were traps, he didn’t avoid them.

Though Llewellyn had only vaguely read it, that sensation was certain. He thought:

If there was a trap for the Sword Saint, and if he asked him to walk into that trap together.

He would be a man who would raise both hands in joy and walk with him all the way to hell.

A monster who could endure terrible pain and hardship beyond life itself for the sake of his sword.

Only such a foolish being could become the Sword Saint.

Llewellyn smiled as he tousled Melody’s hair.

“It feels a bit awkward to go back, but since we’re on the subject, let’s go now.”

The Sword Saint Circuit.