Ch.215Night God (6)

Before the sun rises, in the darkest hour of dawn.

Llewellyn saw a woman standing tall on the horizon.

With the God of Dreams clutched in her right hand, she observed the situation with a stern face.

It was an arrival. They were facing an entity impersonating the God of Night, or perhaps… the actual God of Night.

Though it clearly seemed like a trap, they had no choice but to proceed forward on a path they couldn’t avoid.

To reach this point, they had to cut down countless “duplicates” of each other.

Do ominous assumptions always come true?

Llewellyn recalled the “fake” who had died by his hand not long ago.

He also remembered the countless “fakes” who met their deaths one after another.

It was painful. Just recalling it made him frown involuntarily.

Melody had once asked what he would do if even personalities could be replicated.

Llewellyn had clearly feared and avoided that possibility.

Terribly enough, it was exactly as Melody had said.

The woman he loved, the knight loyal to him.

And even killing the woman who loved him with his own hands was a horrific act.

As if saving Lorian’s appearance for this moment, the fake Lorian had persistently tried to persuade him.

That she was the real one, and the other was the fake.

That he was being deceived again.

He didn’t fall for it. He had to kill her.

But the tears that the fake Lorian shed with sighs and a sad face.

Granted him mourning despite killing someone who deserved to die.

[Mourning 2/5]

Two mournings remained. It wouldn’t matter anyway if he got hurt or fought.

That number revealed nothing less than the mental anguish Llewellyn had suffered.

Certainly, replicating personalities was far more troublesome.

Even now, the ominous thought that what he killed might have been real and the one beside him might be fake arose spontaneously.

‘No, that’s a futile thought. I made the right choice.’

The problem was that these thoughts kept surfacing despite divine assurance.

Llewellyn desperately shook his head to erase the information flooding his mind, and with a sound close to a sigh, he looked ahead.

There stood the God of Night.

“God of Dreams, what do you think?”

“…It appears to be my Night.”

The answer wasn’t clear.

But it couldn’t be helped. Appearance alone couldn’t determine it.

He didn’t know if divinity could be sensed. It was too far, and there was also divinity flowing from Llewellyn’s body and from the God of Dreams.

There was only one way to determine it. To get closer.

The five people and one head stared at the God of Night, standing tall.

Though twelve gazes were directed with different thoughts, the God of Night stood quietly.

It wasn’t normal. But.

“We need to check.”

“I’ll cover your side.”

There was no option to turn back. Llewellyn sighed and stepped forward, and the Sword Saint had already moved to his side.

The distance closed quickly. Despite the group approaching, the God of Night remained in place without moving an inch.

Finally, they reached a distance where they could speak without raising their voices. Yet the God of Night was quietly smiling.

It was unsettling.

“God of Dreams.”

“…Yes. I understand.”

Even the God of Dreams showed such signs. He spoke with hesitation.

“Night, my other half. Is it… truly you?”

The God of Dreams’ voice trembled, and deep hesitation was evident in his expression.

He was afraid.

And despite such fear, the God of Night smiled.

“Dream, my lovely part. Can you not recognize me?”

A gentle voice with deeply felt maternal warmth.

It was something that made even Llewellyn, who grew up without a mother and was insensitive to maternal affection, flinch.

There was a thick enchantment that could melt human reason and manipulate human emotions.

A charm different in nature from Llewellyn’s.

However, being alert, he wasn’t affected by the enchantment.

“Did you not hear my call, my voice desperately searching for you?”

“…No, I heard it. Night. Clearly… clearly I heard it.”

The sad-faced goddess was beautiful.

From her delicate yet kindly curved eyes and thoughtful gaze, to her well-proportioned features harmoniously arranged on pale skin.

The goddess was a beautiful being. Clearly recognizable even without the influence of enchantment.

Such a goddess’s eyes scanned Llewellyn.

“Steward, did you not hear?”

The goddess also regarded Llewellyn as the Steward, the father of the three tribes.

Was it inevitable to make such a mistake? Llewellyn thought so, yet couldn’t hide his softening expression.

“I did not hear. But… the God of Dreams guided me here.”

The God of Night made eye contact with the God of Dreams, and the God of Dreams smiled awkwardly.

Hope was visible in his expression.

“I will not blame you for not hearing the call. Rather, I should thank my companion who guided you here.”

A gentle smile and reasonable words. Llewellyn felt relieved and could let go of the tension he had felt while recalling the countless doppelgangers he had to cut down and destroy to get here.

The Sword Saint shouldered his sword as if letting off steam, and Isla held a bow made of light but showed no intention of shooting.

Lorian had her hand on her sword hilt but remained quiet, and Melody was exploring with her sheathed estoc resting on the ground.

No one displayed hostility. Fortunately indeed.

Llewellyn nodded to the God of Dreams with relief.

“S-so… Night. Why exactly did you lead us here? No, there was a, a more important question. Right.”

“Slowly. Stay calm.”

“Ah, yes. Right, thank you. For being considerate. It’s that…”

The God of Night listened attentively with hands gently folded, and the God of Dreams let out an awkward laugh.

“I should tell you why I became like this. I, when I was waiting for you… something from outside the world came to my cradle. It killed me, and I had no choice but to borrow a prisoner’s body.”

The God of Dreams desperately organized his words despite rambling.

For a god who self-proclaimed to be famous for wit, he seemed to stutter excessively.

But in a way, it was understandable. There must be so much to say.

So Llewellyn waited patiently.

“After that, I just waited for you indefinitely. Forever… until this one came and freed me.”

“Steward, thank you for freeing my companion.”

The goddess bowed with her hand on her chest. The God of Dreams, bewildered, chose his words carefully before adding.

“Night, I understand your misunderstanding… but this one is not the Steward. He is a newly born god who inherited the Steward’s divinity.”

He felt that if the misunderstanding about the Steward continued, the conversation wouldn’t progress.

Of course, he believed that even without adding this, there would be no problem in continuing the conversation.

Llewellyn and the others thought so too.

But perhaps because the words had already been spoken, he seemed to have decided to introduce the other companions as well.

“I should introduce these heroes too. Without their help, neither I nor this benefactor could have been brought here. They are…”

The God of Dreams stopped mid-sentence. His gaze turned to the God of Night.

There was a sense of dissonance.

In fact, it had been there from the beginning. From the first exchange of words, the God of Dreams had felt dissonance.

Divinity, aura, speech and behavior.

Everything was exactly like the God of Night, yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

It was a dissonance Llewellyn couldn’t sense. He felt that dissonance moving his mouth.

“Night, my companion… what are you looking at?”

The suddenly subdued voice and atmosphere.

He realized that the God of Night wasn’t looking at anyone standing behind Llewellyn and the God of Dreams.

It was different from simply not looking out of disinterest.

Rather…

Like something too small, too distant to be seen.

His spine tingled. The God of Dreams didn’t know where this sensation originated.

But he was certain. That the sensation he felt now was not false.

“Night, I have something to ask.”

The God of Night didn’t answer the previous question. Even Llewellyn now knew something was wrong.

“God of Dreams? What’s going on…”

“How did you return?”

Llewellyn’s mouth closed. Lorian, Isla, Melody, and the Sword Saint all sensed the change in atmosphere and tried to retreat.

But somehow, they didn’t feel their feet moving. Clearly they were retreating, yet the distance wasn’t increasing.

“The other gods, all the gods of the pantheon, what happened to them?”

The sequential sound of swords being drawn was heard, and the God of Dreams’ tone grew rough.

But the God of Night was still quietly smiling.

“What happened to the Great Ascension?”

“Dream, my companion. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The gentle response. The God of Dreams gritted his teeth.

“You can’t possibly not know!”

The thunderous shout. The God of Dreams, with only his head remaining, looked at his companion as if screaming.

“Why I remained in this abandoned world, this cursed land, why you left—you don’t even remember?! What on earth, what on earth happened to make—”

“God of Dreams.”

“Tell me! Please, so I can understand—”

“God of Dreams!”

The God of Dreams stopped, panting.

He opened his eyes wide when Llewellyn subtly raised his hand to show him something above.

“Can you… see that?”

The sun was rising. With the dawn light entering at an angle.

That light was shining on the God of Night.

It was a light too dim and dark to be called divine.

A sunlight smaller than what enters a closed chest.

But perhaps because darkness makes light more prominent.

The God of Dreams saw the dissonance spreading over the God of Night.

There was something there.

It was enormously vast. Though he had no head and had to roll his eyes to look up, there was a vastness with no visible end.

It wasn’t even a shadow. Only a vague outline existed.

Looking up at the enormous presence wavering along the sun’s trajectory, the God of Dreams soon breathed roughly.

That was the God of Night.

There was no doubt.

But that wasn’t all.

Intuitively, he realized. That was once the God of Night he loved, but now that fact was only a tiny part of it.

“Night, no… you, what exactly…?”

It was then.

The enormous something reached its hand toward the high-risen sun.

Toward the rising east, a law so natural that no one could defy it.

Belatedly, everyone there realized it resembled the outline of an arm.

And faster than such realization could become thought.

Crack—!

The sun was caught.

The enormous, faint hand grabbed the sun.

Crunch, crunch, fragments shed by the sun fell to the ground as flames.

Such an unreal sight. Even Isla, who rarely showed emotional changes, froze, and even the Sword Saint frowned as the sky moved.

No.

The enormous something shook the sky.

“Run—”

Faster than the word could be completed. Something extending from the God of Night thrust the sky it held in its hand down toward the ground.

Sound disappeared. Space blurred. Paint mixed too much, staining the canvas.

The trajectory thrust down toward the ground was vertical. Yet the entire world was stained.

There was no roaring sound. Nothing broke. Nevertheless, Llewellyn exhaled roughly.

It was night already.

And Llewellyn saw how it had pulled down the night sky like a shutter, pinning it to the ground to close it.

Something was moving in the dimly blurred sky.

Though invisible to the eye, he blankly watched what it was doing.

He saw it grab the God of Night, twist and pull it up.

[God of Night, ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■]

The sight of the night sky becoming a sword.

[Level: ■■■]