Chapter 1486: The Edge of the Dream

The old mage’s gaze was fixed unwaveringly on the thick black leather-bound tome before him.

He was absolutely certain—there had been no such book on this table before. Yet the feeling it gave him was strangely familiar. He couldn’t find it in his memories, but he knew exactly what this book was.

“So… I’ve already entered the dream,” Modir murmured suddenly, as if speaking to himself. His eyes flicked around the room, then out the porthole to the sea and coastline beyond. Everything appeared in normal color—none of that familiar monochrome black, white, and gray tint was present. “But this time, it seems I haven’t crossed into the Shadow Realm…”

“We stand on the most blurred boundary between reality and dream,” the voice from the book spoke again—familiar yet oddly alien to Modir’s ears. “You need not enter the dream; the dream will come to you. Nor must you return to reality, for reality lies within the dream. Only here can I speak with you without fear of ‘leakage’ or ‘descent.’”

The old mage stared quietly at the black leather tome. After a moment, he spoke softly, “You are me.”

“Yes,” the book’s voice replied with a hint of amusement. “I am you.”

“I am Modir,” the old mage said gently.

“I am Wilde,” the book answered in the same soft tone.

“Looks like we’re the same… both slowly reclaiming ‘ourselves,’” Modir suddenly realized. “I’ve recently recalled some things, and you… seem to be doing the same? What happens if this continues? Will we merge into one?”

The black leather tome gave no reply.

But Modir didn’t mind.

“So even the Four Seas beyond the shore aren’t a ‘safe zone.’ Even here, we’re still affected by the Violet Anomaly?” the old mage asked bluntly. “What about the others on the ship…”

“No need to worry about them. The dream’s power has waned; it will no longer drag people from the real world into the ‘other side,’” Wilde said calmly. “Only because we are special can we communicate here.”

“You keep emphasizing ‘dream,’” Modir frowned slightly. Though he knew this black leather book was essentially his lost ‘other half,’ and that he was literally talking to himself, a strange sense of alienation lingered in his heart. So he decided to treat this ‘Wilde’ as another person—it made the conversation flow more naturally. “So the entire Violet Kingdom is actually…”

“It is a dream of the Lady of Night,” Wilde said matter-of-factly, his candid tone catching Modir off guard. “Or you could say it’s a projection of her divine realm into the real world… Projection and original, dream and reality—things that mortals see as sharply divided are not so clear to gods. They are beings born crossing the line between illusion and reality. The so-called ‘boundary’ is often just a matter of perception to them.”

“The entire Violet Kingdom is a dream of the Lady of Night?!” Though he had suspected it, the truth hit Modir like a thunderclap. His eyes widened as he stared at the book that was theoretically his ‘other half.’ “Then the countless people in the Violet Kingdom, the mages traveling the continent, those who dealt with the Loran people, taught magic, took mercenary jobs…”

“They are part of the dream… but also not,” Wilde said lightly. “They once truly lived in this world, leaving real traces behind. They had their joys and sorrows, their own thoughts and understanding of the world… Violet is a dream, but only from the gods’ perspective. To this world, the kingdoms that once existed were just as real.”

Modir opened his mouth, speechless. This was beyond his usual understanding. Even with his rich experience as an adventurer and his capacity to accept new knowledge, this was not easy to grasp. “So what about them now…”

“They have returned to where they belong. But that is not a bad thing for them, though… we may find it hard to understand.”

Modir lowered his head slightly, lost in thought. After a long pause, he suddenly asked, “Why come to me—was this the Lady of Night’s will?”

“The Lady of Night does not concern herself with such trivial matters… at least not now,” Wilde replied. “She is slowly awakening from a long slumber. According to her, she has hundreds of thousands of years’ worth of work piled up, mountains of information to sort through. What happens at the edge of the dream is unimportant—I came to you simply because you are here.”

“Curiosity, and the drive to satisfy it—seems that’s a trait we share,” Modir smiled. “But is it really just curiosity? If I’m right, it can’t be easy for you to come to this boundary between reality and dream. All that effort just to chat a bit?”

The heavy black leather tome fell silent for a few seconds before the voice returned. “For centuries, I have accompanied the Lady of Night as a ‘lost traveler’ trapped in her dream, unable to return to reality. I told her many stories of journeys and adventures. She is deeply curious about the world, but also quite bored being trapped in the dream…”

“Get to the point,” Modir raised an eyebrow. “I’m not one for long-winded talk.”

“…Lately, I’ve run out of stories,” Wilde sighed deeply.

Modir was momentarily stunned, then tentatively asked, “…Too much pressure to update?”

“…I’ve always been confident in my creativity and imagination, but…” Wilde’s voice sounded like it wanted to resist a little longer, then finally gave in with a long sigh. “…Alright, maybe a bit. The Lady of Night is gradually awakening, her attention to the real world growing day by day. As you can see, this long dream is finally coming to an end. Perhaps… my mission is nearly over as well.”

Modir frowned slightly. Talking to a book was strange enough, but talking to his own ‘other half’ was even stranger. After much thought, he finally decided to speak. “I’ve actually heard the Lady of Night’s voice… but I didn’t expect her to be in a state of slumber.”

“A god’s ‘sleep’ is different from mortal understanding. Their activity does not cease in dreams. And beside a sleeping god, what you see may not be ‘real’—it could be another layer of the dream,” Wilde’s tone held a hint of amusement. After a pause, he added casually, “You know, gods have perfect awareness of everything happening within their domains.”

Modir’s breath caught slightly, his expression turning serious. He shook his head and asked earnestly, “What does the Lady of Night intend? What plans does she have for the real world?”

“I don’t know,” Wilde answered frankly. “Though I have been by her side for centuries, she has never spoken of her mission. She only says… the time is not yet come. But one thing I am sure of: the ‘time’ she waits for is finally near. She is actively preparing, even… excited.”

Modir said nothing. He suddenly looked up toward the porthole, gazing at the Violet Coast shrouded in night. The hazy night sky cloaked the land, where cliffs and trees overlapped like a half-formed illusion. He stared for a long while before finally speaking, “Should we head into the heart of Violet?”

“Do you want to go?”

Modir paused, then a genuine smile spread across his face. “Of course. I’m an adventurer, after all.”

“Then go. There is much there still worth witnessing.”

The voice from the black leather tome carried a smile. It began to grow faint, the book’s cover wreathed in a thin veil of black smoke, a transparent sheen quickly enveloping it. Modir realized their conversation—this meeting between reality and dream—was about to end. Suddenly alert, he blurted out, “Wait, I still have questions! Those taken away, those who vanished into the thick fog—can they come back?”

The black leather tome on the sailor’s table had almost vanished, Wilde’s voice drifting like a faint whisper in Modir’s mind: “They each have their own fate. There is no need to force things…”

“I have one more question!” Modir saw a faint shadow still lingering on the table and clung to hope as he asked his final question, “Why did the Lady of Night create such a powerful dream? Could it be that she does not actually wield shadow power, but rather the authority over the realm of dreams? Is the identity of ‘Lady of Night’ just a…”

Before he could finish, a voice, barely more than a whisper—like a murmur in a dream—floated into his ear, still understandable but ethereal:

“She’s… a little dazed from sleep…”

…

Amber suddenly snapped her eyes open.

She saw a gray-white sky, no stars or sun—only a hazy, indistinct swirl of clouds and mist.

A dry, empty wind blew from afar, stirring up gray-white sand grains. The rough texture against her skin made her suddenly realize she was not lying on her familiar bed.

In the next instant, she flipped up like a swift bird, moving from lying flat to a cautious crouch, eyes wide and alert for any movement nearby.

Before her stretched a gray-white desert, the familiar monotone colors filling her view of earth and sky. The wind whipped up dust, and shadowy sandstorms swirled low to the ground, raising a veil of mist.

“Ah, my eyes!” The Shadow Assault Goose immediately covered her eyes and rubbed them hard. “My eyes… they’re all blurry…”

A faint sigh suddenly echoed in her mind, halting her frantic rubbing.

The Shadow Assault Goose blinked her reddened eyes, trying to locate the source of the sigh, but soon realized it was inside her head. She gave up trying to argue with this strange ‘spiritual phenomenon’ and instead cautiously scanned her surroundings for anything familiar.

She already knew where she was—this was not the first time.

This was the mysterious gray-white desert, the theoretical domain of the Shadow God—the Lady of Night’s realm.

“Just a moment ago I was sleeping in bed…” After confirming the area was safe, Amber muttered to herself as she followed a vague feeling toward a distant towering dune. “Haven’t touched anything I shouldn’t have lately… how come now even sleeping can pull me right in?”

She climbed the tall dune, and as expected, the magnificent “throne” came into view.

The throne remained just as she remembered it—surrounded by massive, altar-like structures. Crumbled, leaning stone pillars and broken walls lay scattered around the seat, while gray-white dust buried the once elaborate reliefs that adorned the altar, as well as the pilgrims’ long-forgotten pathways.

Amber stood atop a sand dune, her gaze sweeping over the entire throne. Just like last time, the seat itself was empty; she saw no sign of the Lady of Night.

But she did notice a long scepter resting quietly beside the throne. It was black and white, with shimmering, flowing patterns rippling across its surface, as if it breathed in sync with the endless gray desert around them. It seemed to pulse with a powerful presence, like the very axis of this strange space.

Amber hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward toward the throne. Though the dune was still far from the seat, in this place suffused with shadowy power, each step felt as if she were effortlessly crossing space itself. It was similar to her usual shadow-step ability, yet subtly different—almost as if she wasn’t moving toward the throne, but the throne was drawing closer to her with every step.

In no time, she arrived at the ancient altar where the throne stood. Towering stone pillars and the massive seat loomed like mountains, radiating an indescribable sense of oppression.

“…Wilde?” After a brief pause, Amber called out a name, searching her memory for the distinctive pillar she remembered—one that stood on a small platform before the throne.

The last time she had stumbled into this place, she had seen a large black leather-bound book on that pillar, titled Wilde. There was evidence that this book was the “half” of Modir Wilde, severed and trapped within the Shadow Divine Realm.

But the altar was empty now, and the wind and sand carried no response from the great adventurer.

“Is anyone here?” Amber hesitated, then boldly shouted, “If no one’s around, I’m just going to explore on my own!”

She waited a moment, then nodded to herself. “Looks like no one’s here.”

With that, she stepped boldly toward the throne at the altar’s peak. Halfway there, she finally spotted the familiar pillar—but its top was empty. The black leather book she expected to find was nowhere in sight.

“The Lady of Night’s not here, and neither is Wilde… where could they have gone?” Amber muttered, a sudden chill creeping into her heart. In this vast, empty world, she seemed to be the only living thing. The boundless loneliness and alienation crawled over her like insects. But she quickly shook her head, forcing herself calm. “Probably just out for a walk. Yeah, out for a walk.”

As she spoke, she reached the towering throne.

Looking up, she saw part of the throne rising straight up like a cliff, while the scepter leaned against its side, stretching toward the sky—impossibly striking.

After staring up for several seconds, a bold thought suddenly popped into the shadow-assault goose’s mind.

Should she climb up and take a look?

(End of chapter)