Chapter 181: Dawn Breaks

The creature, its entire body shimmering like starlight and constantly shifting in an amorphous, writhing mass, launched a fierce assault on Gawain. Its indescribably bizarre limbs seemed capable of transforming into countless destructive forms—razor-sharp claws, massive swords, even bows and tentacle-like appendages—each materializing continuously from that “starlight conglomerate.” This ever-changing form hinted at its true nature: a dream-born abomination, a nightmare made flesh, formless and endless, forever in flux.

Gawain met every attack head-on, severing the creature’s proliferating limbs and the weapons it mimicked with relentless precision.

“Steelstorm!”

His blade ignited with magical energy, splitting into countless searing light shards. A shockwave surged forward, tearing apart the stone floor and the mutant limbs that reached out to him. Seizing the moment, Gawain leapt into the air and unleashed his long-charged “Champion’s Strike”—a blade wrapped in white light descending from above, cleaving into Lilith Kond’s body.

Lilith’s form was nearly bisected by the blow, but in the next instant, a faint purple glow radiated from the lantern she held. Her torn body rapidly mended and reassembled amid the sparkling starlight. The madwoman laughed wildly, brandishing the lantern. “It’s useless! Hahaha, useless! I have merged with the power of the dream—you cannot kill a dream! As long as I refuse to wake, I will never die!”

Gawain smiled faintly, casually slicing off a sharp claw that had sneaked in from his blind spot. “Is there truly everything in a dream…? Seems the Sleeper’s doctrine has taken deep root in your mind.”

“Give up,” Lilith’s manic expression suddenly cooled. She looked at Gawain with cold eyes and said calmly, “I admit your strength is formidable. No one on this land can defeat you in battle. But no matter how strong, no power can destroy a dream. Likewise, I cannot kill you. You can pretend nothing has happened here, and I promise not to harm your people.”

“I see the madness in your eyes, madam. The dark artifact’s power has corrupted your mind. I won’t trust a single promise you make while holding that lantern,” Gawain said, stepping forward toward Lilith, who was now half-fused with the starlight mass. “Besides, why should I give up? Haven’t you noticed? Your regeneration is slowing down with each cycle.”

“Huh?!” Lilith finally noticed the change Gawain pointed out. She gasped sharply, eyes blazing with fury. “What have you done?!”

“Looks like Sir Philip has found the true ‘pillar’ sustaining your dream,” Gawain raised his sword. “How much longer can you hold on now?”

Behind the castle’s main building, in the ruins of the stables, Sir Philip hacked through a dark door blocking his path. With the nightmare’s power waning, the once impenetrable doors sealed by the dream’s magic had lost their protection. His magic-infused sword shattered wood and steel alike with a single strike.

Beyond the door lay a staircase descending into a vast underground chamber.

Philip’s brow furrowed deeply as he took in the scene.

The expansive hall was dimly lit by magical crystal lamps, casting obscure light over rows of square stone pillars. Each pillar was etched with countless arcane runes and cryptic lines. But what truly enraged the young knight wasn’t the evil inscriptions—it was what surrounded the pillars.

Rectangular platforms were arranged around each pillar in a precise matrix. On each platform lay a gaunt, twisted, withered human body—alive, but barely. They were trapped in a living hell, lying on a layer of dark brown, soft substance, connected to the pillars by strange, cord-like “biological tissues” resembling umbilical cords or blood vessels. One end of these tendrils plunged into the pillars, while the other branched into the skulls of the people on the platforms.

These wretched souls sustained the entire dream world. Their minds were drained, sucked dry, trapped in endless, overlapping dreams from which they could not awaken. Their bodies twitched occasionally, and low, hoarse murmurs escaped their throats—mere reflexes of a broken nervous system.

Scattered across the floor between the platforms and pillars were bleached bones—the spent “firewood,” the homeless missing from the Kond lands over the past thirty years.

“This is… pure evil!!” Philip roared in fury, raising his sword to strike the nearest pillar.

Back in the northern tower’s cellar, the runes on the pillars began to fade one by one. The power sustaining the “starlight conglomerate” faltered violently. Gawain effortlessly severed every newly sprouted limb from the shifting monster, exposing Lilith Kond’s true form once more. This time, her regeneration had nearly ceased, with only faint, scattered purple glimmers flickering in the air.

The deranged woman howled, “How do you know… how do you know?!”

“Because you sent Butler Carter to divert our attention, but you accidentally revealed your last secret,” Gawain sighed softly, sensing the end was near. “If I’m right, that butler is also a dream creation. The real Carter must have died years ago—no one can vanish from Amber’s sight without a trace, not even the world’s greatest shadow master. His disappearance near the stable ruins means that’s the dream’s ‘inner border’…”

“In the end, you’re no true nightmare master. Though the Sleeper granted you great power, it’s channeled through an ancient lantern. You yourself… are just an amateur.”

Lilith’s face twisted further at Gawain’s words. Then she grinned suddenly. “You remind me—I still have this lantern… though unfinished, it’s already gathered enough energy to—what?!”

She looked down in shock. The magical lantern in her hand had somehow been replaced by an ordinary horse lantern. At that moment, Amber’s figure appeared in the distance, the lantern now in her possession.

The half-elf thief waved the lantern smugly, her tone cocky and cheeky. “I’m telling you, failing to pick your lock was the biggest disgrace of my career! If I can’t steal your lantern, I’m quitting this line of work!”

Even Gawain couldn’t help but glance at Amber with surprise and admiration. He truly hadn’t expected her to pull this off. How many skill points had she invested in thievery?

Meanwhile, Lilith, now lanternless, grew eerily calm. The starlight conglomerate behind her dissipated, replaced by a gathering shadow at her feet. Looking at Gawain and Amber, the Vicountess of Kond smiled strangely. “You think you’ve won?”

Gawain frowned.

“Our son… is coming home.”

Lilith spread her arms wide, as if welcoming a son who had been away for years. Her voice brimmed with joy and pride. “Belm, my proud child. He’s traveled the world for decades, grown into a true man, a rightful heir! Today is the day he returns… Do you hear it? The carriage bells ringing on the castle’s stone road. He’s coming back to the land that bore him, to inherit the Kond family’s legacy and honor… And you will never stop his inheritance!”

Gawain’s grip tightened on his sword. He truly heard it—the faint sound of carriage wheels and bells echoing in his ears. He sensed a nonhuman nightmare creature stepping down from the carriage, striding toward the castle.

This was the true fruit of the thirty-year dream—the very thing hinted at in the Sleeper cult’s fragmented memories:

“The lost shall return, not only in dreams but in reality…”

For three decades, everyone in these lands believed in the existence of “Young Master Belm,” a traveler who never appeared in the territory but whose presence was confirmed by letters, lordly accounts, and rumors. Lilith Kond had spent thirty years and countless lives amassing dark power to manifest this being—who had existed only in dreams—into reality.

Her true goal was not just to keep her husband by her side; she sought to resurrect her son in the real world.

But in this corrupted, dark ritual, what she revived was a monster—a grotesque abomination cloaked in human skin, built from countless subconscious whispers.

Now separated from the lantern, killing Lilith was meaningless. But Gawain had already anticipated the worst. He stood firm, sword ready, waiting for the Kond heir to step into the castle.

The newborn nightmare was not invincible. After Sir Philip destroyed the dream’s sustaining force, “Young Master Belm” was just a flesh-and-blood monster that could be defeated.

At the castle gate, a black carriage waited in the rainy night. A faceless visitor in a black long coat approached and knocked. Moments later, the heavy door opened, revealing Butler Carter smiling.

Inside the main hall, a welcoming party appeared instantly. The band began to play, greeting the return of the territory’s heir.

In the northern tower’s cellar, Lilith Kond’s life force visibly drained. Pale as a corpse, unable to stand, she knelt beside the stone sarcophagus, wearing a defiant smile as she faced Gawain and Amber.

Suddenly, the oak door to the cellar was pushed open.

The figure of Vicount Victor Kond appeared in the doorway.

In that instant, Lilith’s eyes widened in shock and terror as she stared at the figure standing in the doorway.

“My love… how did you come here?!”

Victor Kant’s form seemed shrouded in a thin veil, hazy and almost transparent. He stepped toward the center of the cellar, his voice low and gentle. “I came to see you. To see me. To see… our son.”

“No… don’t come any closer! You can’t be here!” Lilith cried out, miraculously rising to her feet once more. “You can’t come here!”

“Madam, don’t stop me,” Victor’s figure wavered slightly but pressed forward. “And don’t interfere with my mind any longer. This is my final wish in this nightmare.”

Meanwhile, in the castle’s main hall, the faceless visitor passed through rows of servants lined up to greet him. Beside him walked the butler, Carter. From within the visitor came a hoarse, chaotic voice—words no human mind could comprehend. Yet Carter seemed to understand perfectly, nodding with a faint smile as he accompanied his “young master” across the hall and down the corridor.

Back in the north tower’s cellar, the viscountess rushed desperately toward her husband—her fingers passing right through his form. She screamed, “How can this be a nightmare? How could it possibly be a nightmare? This…”

“This is a nightmare for all of us, Lilith,” Viscount Kant said, lowering his gaze to his own body, then back to his wife. “Let it go. You should wake up. You already have.”

He strode past her and approached the stone crypt, placing his hands on the coffin lid.

Before pushing it open, the viscount glanced back at Gawain.

“Thank you for your help, Duke Gawain Cecil. You truly are the hero of the people, just as the legends say.”

With a heavy push, the coffin lid slid open.

Inside, Kant saw a shattered skeleton. Beside it lay several smaller, more delicate bones.

Between the two sets of remains lay a woman with her eyes closed—Lilith Kant’s true body, resting forever within this stone tomb.

“The dawn has finally come…”

With a sigh, Victor Kant’s figure slowly dissolved into the air. At the same moment, the “Lilith Kant” standing outside the crypt vanished like smoke.

A furious roar echoed from the castle’s main building—ultimately, the faceless visitor never crossed into the real world.

Sir Philip, exhausted, left the underground hall. Climbing back to the surface, he looked up at the sky with some surprise: the storm had passed unnoticed, and a faint light was rising on the horizon.

“The dawn has finally come…”

The young knight muttered to himself.

(End of chapter)