Chapter 167: Courting Disaster

The Sleeper.

When Gawain heard those three words, he wasn’t particularly surprised.

He had pondered who—or what force—would come after him using such an unorthodox method. The scheming nobles of the royal capital only dared to play petty, covert tricks; the royal family had no reason to oppose him at this point; and beyond that, the Cecil family had no entanglements with any current powers in the world—except for those heretics who seemed to be at odds with everyone by nature.

Among the main heretical sects, the Sleeper was the most enigmatic and the most skilled in mental sorcery.

Curious, Gawain scanned his surroundings again. He had to admit the craftsmanship behind this “illusion” was exquisite. Everything before his eyes felt utterly real—whether it was the towering magical spires, the massive energy shield enveloping the imperial capital, or the deep blue beam of the Well beside the city—there wasn’t a single flaw to betray the illusion. Even the tactile sensations were genuine; the round table and the chair beneath him felt solid and tangible. Gawain even had reason to believe that the tea and snacks on the table would taste authentic if he ate them.

This was a world easy to lose oneself in.

But the more real it felt, the more wary he became.

He carefully controlled his expression, forcing himself to sound casual and neutral as he said, “I’ve heard the Sleepers excel at crafting illusions and dreams, but this is my first time experiencing it firsthand. I have to say, your skills are impressive.”

“If a person perceives the world only through sight, touch, and smell, then once those senses are perfectly simulated, what’s the difference between reality and illusion?” The robed figure spoke in a strange, androgynous voice. “Compared to a dark, despairing reality, wouldn’t a perfect dream be far better?”

“But in this ‘perfect’ dream, isn’t your outfit a bit… conspicuous?” Gawain finally couldn’t hold back his curiosity about the figure’s bizarre attire and gender-ambiguous voice. “Whatever you want to talk about, shouldn’t you show your true face? And you haven’t even introduced yourself yet—that’s hardly polite.”

“I am but a humble seeker of the path. The Sleeper needs no surname or given name. As for a ‘true face’… that’s a notion bound to the real world,” the robed figure sighed. Then, his mask seemed to melt away like flowing water, revealing a face that constantly shifted—changing between male and female, young and old. “Alas, those bound by reality will never understand the grandeur of the Sleeper’s dream. In this perfect world, individual appearances lose all meaning. So, which face do you think suits me better? This one… or this one?”

The figure’s face kept shifting, each expression dripping with mockery and disdain. Gawain simply watched quietly as the figure toyed with his own visage, waiting half a minute before calmly saying, “Keep changing. It’s refreshing.”

The face froze on a stern middle-aged man.

“Seems you have plenty of patience to waste on me. Unfortunately, I don’t,” the man said bluntly, locking eyes with Gawain. “I called you here for one simple reason.”

“What reason?”

“What did you see in those lost seas?”

Gawain’s earlier composure was partly an act, but now he was genuinely taken aback. “What did you say?”

The robed man frowned, interpreting Gawain’s confusion as mockery. “Don’t play dumb. We both know what the ‘Eternal Dark Seas’ are. Outsiders may not know about your secret voyage, but some who sailed with you returned alive. We know you entered the Eternal Dark Seas with a clear purpose, gained some kind of enlightenment there, and even brought something back… and we’re very curious.”

A wave of turmoil surged in Gawain’s mind.

This Sleeper cultist knew a secret even Gawain Cecil himself had forgotten!

What were these Eternal Dark Seas? What was this secret voyage? What enlightenment and what did he bring back?!

Suddenly, Gawain connected the dots to those crystals—the ones entrusted to the Mithril Treasury by the original owner of his body, yet completely absent from his memories. Could it all be linked here?

But now he had to hide all his shock and inner turmoil. He desperately wanted to extract information from this cultist—who had no idea that Gawain Cecil’s body housed a foreign soul. That was his leverage.

“Is it you who wants to know, or the Sleeper cult behind you? Or… are there others?” Gawain’s expression turned serious as he stared at the middle-aged man, unwavering.

“If I said it was just my personal curiosity, you wouldn’t believe me,” the man smiled stiffly. “The entire Sleeper cult cares about this. Unlike those groups bent on destroying the world, though we’re branded a ‘heretical cult,’ all we do is protect all living beings. Our methods may be misunderstood, but if the enlightenment you gained in the Eternal Dark Seas reveals the truth of this world… then you would understand the Sleeper’s actions.”

Gawain Cecil’s enlightenment in the Eternal Dark Seas would lead him to sympathize with this heretical cult?

That was a bombshell.

He straightened his face and stared into the man’s eyes. “Who else knows about my time in the Eternal Dark Seas? And how do you know?”

“I told you—some who sailed with you returned alive, not just one. I can tell you now, one of them was a Sleeper spy planted by us,” the man answered frankly. “As for who else knows, rest assured, very few. Even within the Sleeper cult, only a handful above the rank of Nightmare Bishop know parts of the truth. We have no intention of spreading this secret—it serves no purpose. And for ordinary forgetful people, a seven-hundred-year-old secret is hardly something they care about.”

“I did bring something back,” Gawain loosened up slightly, “but how can you be sure that if I learned the so-called truth of the world there, I’d understand your cult’s ideology? In other words—how do you know I’ll cooperate?”

Gawain tried to bait the verbose cultist into revealing what he knew about the voyage’s cause and effect. But the middle-aged man suddenly fell silent. After a few seconds, he smirked, “Of course I know you won’t cooperate or answer my questions. You’re a hero from seven centuries ago—how could you trust a heretic after a few words?

“By the same logic, why do you think I’m still talking to you here, answering your questions one by one?”

As the man’s words fell, the entire scene around Gawain shook violently. The ancient city of Gondor crumbled, the magical dome above shattered, and waves of noise flooded his mind.

He finally understood the real danger. He finally realized why this cunning cultist had revealed so much during their conversation—though he had been suspicious and cautious from the start, only now did he grasp the cultist’s true scheme.

Something was invading his consciousness! Probing his memories!

“In the Sleeper’s dream, even dragons eventually fall,” the man stood, and the table with tea and snacks before him dissolved into writhing starlight before fading away. “Spirit and consciousness are wondrous things. They make us human, yet we barely control them. In a person’s subconscious, everything runs automatically. Even legendary figures reveal their greatest flaws here.”

Gawain felt his memories loosening, an external “reader” searching for entry points. He struggled to control his thoughts, to manage the flickering memory fragments like slides in his mind. The mental strain was immense—he couldn’t even speak, only fixed his gaze on the man’s eyes.

“By talking to me here, you’re gradually opening the doors to your memories. Whether you answer or ask questions, this ‘conversation’ builds a connection—including now, as you listen to my voice and accept my information, your mental defenses crumble. Unfortunately, you can hardly stop this process…” The man’s smile grew wider, clearly confident. “Ah, your resistance is strong—befitting a great hero. But don’t you know? The Sleeper’s greatest power isn’t illusions or psychic attacks, but stealing others’ memories and turning them into new strength… while using these ‘memory paths’ as springboards. You’ll forget this meeting, but after I finish reading your memories, I’ll leave a passage in your subconscious so my will can ‘descend’ into your body anytime… Yes, yes, that fleeting image of the poor mercenary in your mind just now—that’s the kind of springboard the Sleeper uses to roam dreams and thoughts.”

Gawain silently sorted through his memories, refusing to respond to the cultist’s taunts. Before the mental noise became unbearable, he finished his final arrangement.

Under the cultist’s astonished gaze, Gawain lifted his head, a long-hidden smile playing on his lips. “Are you sure… you want to see my memories?”

The man froze. “You…”

Gawain fully unleashed his mental barriers.

“If everyone’s consciousness has a memory wall, mine isn’t to protect myself, but to guard against reckless intruders like you.”

He stood tall, calmly watching the man’s eyes widen in sheer terror, watching him scream madly as his face melted like wax, his body twisting and collapsing, and even after becoming a puddle of blood and flesh, the screams echoed from nowhere.

“You dare to peek into a surveillance archive that’s hundreds of thousands of years old? Are you out of your mind?”

(End of chapter)