Chapter 229: The Inhuman

The Eternal Dream, once sealed shut, had been reactivated. After a brief fluctuation, the vast psychic network gradually stabilized. The grand halls, temples, towering spires, and floating islands rooted in the mind’s illusions were reconstructed anew. At the same time, countless followers of the Sleeper Faith linked their consciousnesses into this network—they were both its users and its architects, its caretakers and its power source. They offered their brain’s computational capacity freely to the network, allowing it to allocate and draw upon it as needed. Unlike the so-called “brain servants”—those living dead-like beings lying dormant in hidden sanctuaries, mere suppliers of computing power—these faithful did not suffer loss of life or soul in the process.

After all, the Sleepers were the true masters of the Eternal Dream. They would never sacrifice themselves while their servants still lived.

Deep within the Eternal Dream, beneath the city, lay the Dream Hall. Here, the High Council and their Pontiff were assembled, ready.

Twenty-two seats formed a perfect circle at the room’s center. Eleven white-robed bishops and Ilaven black-robed bishops occupied opposite halves, as if divided by day and night. Floating in the center hovered a nebulous black shadow, sometimes coalescing into a human form, but more often shifting into indescribable masses shimmering with faint violet starlight. Whether in the real world or this virtual realm, the Sleeper Pontiff never revealed their true face. In fact, the faithful believed their Pontiff had transcended mortal form long ago, becoming an entity equal in power to the dream itself. This shifting shadow was merely a projection—a “interface” created to communicate with mortal followers.

Today, the Pontiff would lead the High Council in the eighteenth attempt to decrypt the memory fragments of Gawain Cecil.

“The Eternal Dream is stable. Neural network connections are optimal.”

“Subordinate computing nodes are ready. ‘Brain servant’ arrays are operational.”

“The monitoring team has reached their positions and can respond to emergencies in the real world at any moment.”

“We are prepared, Your Holiness.”

One by one, the bishops reported on their assigned protocols. When all were ready, the formless shadow in the center rippled slightly, as if granting approval. Its voice echoed inside each bishop’s mind: “Let us begin—let us see what lies within the memories of that ancient hero.”

The link to the memory fragments was activated. Driven by the immense computational power of the Eternal Dream, the terrifying memories—responsible for hundreds of casualties—began to unravel. In truth, Gawain had deliberately left a weak point within the fragments, but the Sleepers were oblivious to this.

They only rejoiced to see their long efforts finally bear fruit—a faint glimmer of hope piercing the vast fog of information. Gradually, the fragments were dismantled, and the comprehensible parts entered the minds of every council member.

At first, they saw a field of starlight.

A deep, silent cosmos—an endless void sprinkled with countless stars against a dark, profound backdrop. The council was momentarily puzzled, but soon assumed this was Gawain Cecil’s perspective after death: did humans truly return to the heavens after passing?

Before they could dwell on the meaning of the starlit scene, the vision began to shift wildly.

Stars receded, twisted shadows appeared. They saw the viewpoint’s owner darting through the cosmos, hurtling past one planet after another at unimaginable speeds…

They saw the owner arrive on a burning battlefield, massive demons rampaging, fiery meteors crashing down, soldiers clad in strange armor and of unknown races clashing fiercely…

They saw the owner leading an army assaulting a fortress of incomprehensible architecture—seemingly built from the flesh and blood of some creature. Horrifying swarms of monstrous insects poured forth, engaging in brutal combat with the owner’s forces…

Then the owner suddenly appeared in a frozen, snowy world, where a steel structure belched thick smoke before exploding in the blizzard…

They saw the owner traverse one world after another—sometimes sweeping battlefields with armies, sometimes single-handedly razing entire nations, sometimes turning the tide to protect something, and other times engulfing entire planets in apocalyptic flames. He fought, protected, destroyed, and created. Throughout it all, he maintained a detached, almost spectator-like calm, as if all were merely tasks to complete or amusements to pass the time.

This eerie “feeling” was embedded deep within the memories, transmitted directly from the viewpoint’s owner into the minds of every Sleeper bishop present.

Each time the vision shifted worlds, the same pattern repeated: an endless starry sky, followed by a journey through the cosmos…

The bishops trembled as wave after wave of memories flooded their minds. They dared not think further, yet the memories played on relentlessly—until, at last, the stars reappeared. As the starlight shifted, a faintly glowing planet emerged in the background. The viewpoint’s owner lunged toward it—the land rapidly expanding in view. Some details on that land were so familiar, so painfully recognizable, that no one dared imagine what it meant.

This time, as the owner descended toward the land, he seemed to change direction mid-flight—the bishops saw the stars again. In that familiar sky, the one visible from the Loren Continent, points of light darted among the stars. A massive metallic structure hung suspended in the heavens, gradually cloaked by an incredible invisibility effect, vanishing from mortal sight.

The memory fragments ended there.

The illusions receded like a tide. Everyone’s gaze refocused. The council’s consciousness returned to the hall. They exchanged horrified looks, their robes soaked with sweat.

No one spoke. None could find words. Half a minute passed before the shadowy projection in the center broke the silence: “Let the Nightmare Tutors outside temporarily take over the Eternal Dream. The High Council will convene an emergency meeting. Today’s events are not to be disclosed.”

The Eternal Dream swiftly sealed and segmented the information. Once the hall became a secure, closed space, a white-robed bishop finally spoke: “The authenticity of those memory fragments…”

“There is no doubt,” the Pontiff’s voice resonated in their minds. “I have personally verified them. They are true memories, not fabricated illusions. Everything within those fragments is genuine experience.”

“So Gawain Cecil’s resurrection was a lie…” another white-robed bishop’s voice trembled. “The one who awoke was not an ancient hero at all! Within that body dwells an alien, inhuman, indescribable… entity!”

“What is its purpose? What will it do?”

“We cannot discern any pattern… Those shattered, chaotic memories, those scenes… they defy logic! That ‘inhuman thing’ seems to traverse world after world, constantly changing the bodies it inhabits. Sometimes it appears to save worlds, sometimes to destroy them, and sometimes it merely wanders aimlessly. Its actions lack any discernible purpose—we cannot fathom how such a being thinks!”

“Do those worlds truly exist? Those worlds so utterly different from ours—do they exist, or have they ever existed?”

“That is irrelevant. The greatest issue now is to understand the ‘inhuman thing’ occupying Gawain Cecil’s body—what it intends in our world. This time, is it here to destroy, to protect, or merely passing through? Or… will it commit acts even more terrifying and bizarre than those in the memories?”

“It cannot be just passing through!” A black-robed bishop, focused on the Ansu situation, suddenly spoke. “It chose the body of a founding duke as its ‘vessel’ this time, and established a territory near the Dark Mountains, acting like a mortal, developing and expanding. There must be a purpose. And it even killed a Sleeper bishop…”

“That bishop acted rashly and brought disaster upon himself,” someone interrupted. “But without his rashness, we wouldn’t have this intelligence.”

“In any case,” the Pontiff suddenly spoke, silencing the room, “perhaps we should refer to that inhuman entity as ‘He’…”

“Your Holiness, what course of action should we take?” a white-robed bishop asked cautiously. “No matter what this entity intends, He is a massive destabilizing factor. Should we consider…”

“Do not act!” The Pontiff’s tone was sterner than ever. “The situation could spiral out of control!”

“But His current vessel is just a mortal. Perhaps if we destroy His ‘host,’ we can banish Him back to where He came from… or even destroy Him completely!”

A black-robed bishop opposite shook his head. “Too risky. In those memories, we saw Him traverse countless perilous worlds—battlefields and desperate situations far worse than anything we’ve faced. In some scenes, we even saw Him fall—but He never died. He always returned to the fight. This proves destroying the vessel cannot truly harm Him. Even banishment is temporary; He can come back. As for sealing… who can guarantee known sealing methods will work on such an otherworldly, inhuman entity? Failure would be catastrophic. And remember: the vessel is just a ‘host.’ He can change bodies at will. Any action against the vessel is meaningless and risks losing our only lead.”

“More importantly,” another beside him added, “don’t forget what we saw at the end of those memory fragments—there was more than one traveler among the stars, and a hidden steel palace still hung among the constellations. This means the inhuman entity is not alone. He has kin, a lair. If we act rashly, we may attract more…”

He trailed off, but the meaning was clear. Everyone in the hall understood the danger. For a moment, the room was so silent you could hear a pin drop.

The bishops suddenly felt the situation was so bizarre, so absurd, it was almost laughable.

A group of heretics, at odds with civilized society… and yet here they were, agonizing over something like this—how to deal with a “non-human entity.” If this entity truly came to destroy the world, maybe they wouldn’t be so conflicted. But the real problem was, they had no clue what this non-human thing was actually here for!

This left the cultists in a state of utter confusion.

The Pope sighed—a sound that was probably the first since their transformation into this new form of life.

They had hoped the breakthrough would be significant, that it would finally shed light on the secrets of Gawain Cecil from long ago, and reveal some truths about this world. But who could have predicted that the fragment of memory would instead unveil a clue no one had expected…

Or perhaps… this was only part of the world’s true nature?

The Pope’s ethereal form stirred, channeling their spiritual power to send a message directly into everyone’s minds:

“Remember the lesson of the previous ‘contact.’ Do not act rashly. Do not test recklessly. Observe carefully first. Only when we have gathered more intelligence should we proceed with cautious engagement.”

(End of chapter)