Chapter 301: A Servant

The mage Daniel watched in horror as the entire world before him slowly crumbled—the resplendent arcane spires, the unparalleled halls of magic, that world of freedom, light, and hope—all silently disintegrated before his eyes. And a terrifying presence was rapidly descending upon him.

Saying it “descended before him” was just an illusion. Having studied the secrets of the mind, Daniel knew the truth: his thoughts were being invaded, and the intruder’s power was beyond comprehension. He had constructed illusions and decoys within his mind to shield his memories and block prying eyes, but the invader seemed to utterly disregard these defenses, smashing through them all. In that fleeting second, Daniel felt an overwhelming torrent of information forcibly poured into his brain—an unstoppable flood he had no means to resist.

Under such a massive onslaught, all mental barriers and memory buffers were useless.

In the last shred of his sanity, Daniel recalled the recent data released on the psychic network—information about the “Extradimensional Wanderers” and the Sleeper bishop who had died at their hands. He suddenly understood what the incomprehensible flood of information in his mind truly was. Realizing this, his first instinct was to sever the network connection—

His thoughts flickered rapidly between the psychic network and the real world. In a lucky moment, less than a millisecond, he glimpsed his magical laboratory on the Typhon border. Nearby, his clumsy female apprentice was handling samples at the workbench. Summoning all his strength, he raised his hand—but the next instant, he was back in the collapsing dreamscape.

Around him, the palace and towers continued to crumble slowly. The city’s pedestrians dissolved into abstract brushstrokes in the air. The old mage squeezed out his last breath and shouted one final warning: “He’s in the network—”

But the shout was only a hallucination in his own mind. In reality, he stood frozen, and a voice exploded inside his head: “Don’t move. I’ve got you now!”

After that sentence, the surroundings changed completely.

The magnificent dream city vanished. Before him stretched an endless expanse of water, dotted with strange metallic platforms rising from the surface. Above, a starless sky loomed, filled with massive geometric shapes constantly shifting and recombining into incomprehensible patterns. And standing quietly before him was the master of this world—a man with short, pale golden hair.

It was the face of Charles I, the founding king of the Ansu Kingdom. Many in the “Eternal Dream” liked to fashion themselves in this image, but the old mage knew that this “Charles I” was far more terrifying than any Sleeper.

“Extradimensional Wanderer…” he muttered.

“To be honest, I don’t much like the name you gave me. It sounds awkward,” Gawain said, eyeing the old mage carefully. Before being dragged here, Daniel had appeared as a dignified middle-aged man clad in a starry magical robe, holding a gem-encrusted staff. But in this “in-between world,” governed solely by Gawain’s rules, all disguises were stripped away. Now he was just a shriveled, frail old man in a black mage’s robe. “Your name is Daniel… a Typhon native, right?”

“How do you know—” Daniel’s eyes widened in shock, but he quickly realized how foolish it was to question this. Against such an Extradimensional Wanderer, how much resistance could a human mind truly muster?

In truth, Gawain didn’t know much. He could use his powerful memory assault to shatter most Sleepers’ mental defenses, or trap a Sleeper in an abnormal data space isolated from the network. But reading memories was a far more complex and subtle art. He had some knowledge but was far from proficient.

He had only skimmed Daniel’s surface memories—but even those held many interesting details.

Before becoming a Sleeper cultist, this old man Daniel was a mage, a member of the Typhon Imperial Mage Association.

It was normal for cultists to recruit new members—from poor commoners to spiritually empty nobles. The Viscountess Lilith Kant had been seduced by the cult, and the earlier cultist Bard Wendell was similar. But as far as Gawain knew, it was rare for mages to fall to the cult. Mages had a unique worldview and belief system. They were already wielders of extraordinary power, making them hard to corrupt. Moreover, they worshipped the magic goddess Mylmina, considered the source of all magic. If a mage were to believe in anything, wouldn’t faith in a magic goddess be better than following a bunch of deluded madmen?

Yet after glimpsing Daniel’s shallow memories, Gawain realized that if an aging mage reached a dead end in his magical path, trapped with no way forward, and had a vulnerable will… then succumbing to the dreamlike cult wasn’t impossible.

In “making up for the regrets of the real world,” the Sleepers had a huge advantage.

Meanwhile, after his initial terror, Daniel regained his composure. He had tried secretly to escape or cast spells but found himself utterly trapped, his mental powers seemingly frozen. In this psychic realm, losing control of one’s mind meant all was lost. No matter how devastating his power outside might be, he could not resist the dream’s master. So he chose self-preservation and lowered his tone: “What… do you want from me?”

Mages were practical people, and Daniel would not stubbornly resist, especially knowing he faced an Extradimensional Wanderer—an unknowable being likely devoid of human emotions.

Since this “Wanderer” hadn’t killed him yet, it meant he still had value. He had to survive.

“What I want…” Gawain stroked his chin thoughtfully. “To be honest, I haven’t decided yet. Bringing you here was just an experiment. I didn’t see much value in you. Or rather, what do you think you can offer me?”

Just an experiment…

Daniel’s heart sank. Things were turning grim.

He was being treated like a test subject—just like the animals he had sent his apprentice Mary to handle.

Is this how the Extradimensional Wanderers truly viewed humans?

Gawain didn’t let Daniel stew in his thoughts—though it might have been amusing. Since this Typhon mage was so clear-eyed about reality, Gawain waved his hand: “Alright, relax. Let’s sit and talk.”

A small round table and two chairs materialized on the mirror-like water. Gawain sat first. After a brief hesitation, Daniel cautiously took a seat, still watching Gawain’s every move with unrelenting vigilance.

“How long have you been a Sleeper?”

Daniel blinked, surprised that this inhuman being actually wanted to talk. He answered quickly: “I came into contact with them over ten years ago.”

“Because your magical research hit a dead end?” Gawain smirked. “Escaping into dreams isn’t a solution.”

“Mortals are creatures limited by their talents,” Daniel said bitterly, shaking his head. “My gift led me to an early dead end on the path to truth.”

“Are the Sleepers a kind of salvation for you?”

“Perhaps you could say that.”

“Interesting,” Gawain tapped the table lightly. “Then I want to know—if a greater salvation were offered, would you betray the Sleepers?”

Daniel stared at Gawain, unsure how to respond.

“I need a servant,” Gawain said with a smile, deliberately mysterious. Since the Sleepers had woven such a compelling persona for him, he didn’t mind playing the part. “I’m not omniscient. There are many things I can’t do myself—so I’ve chosen you.”

In truth, it was a random choice.

“Chosen… me?” Daniel hesitated. “What do you want me to do?”

“To be my eyes and ears—within Typhon, within the Sleepers,” Gawain said, locking eyes with the old mage. “Of course, you’ll be compensated fairly—I’m a firm believer in equivalent exchange.”

Though Daniel didn’t expect much beyond survival from this encounter, he instinctively asked, “Compensation?”

“For you, it might be a greater salvation,” Gawain chuckled. “Knowledge—knowledge that will let you continue your quest for truth.”

Daniel’s breath caught.

…

Mary stared anxiously at her mentor. She had held this position for a long time.

After that strange sentence, her master had frozen like stone, his face frozen in terror. She wanted to step forward, to shake him or call out, but she restrained herself—he was likely suffering magical backlash, and rash contact wouldn’t help.

Yet no matter how she examined the blood-red rune arrays around them, she found no sign of spell malfunction.

Should she call the other apprentices? The old steward? Or… should she seize this chance to remove the shackles from her neck?

Countless thoughts—both anxious and terrifying—clashed violently in the young mage’s mind. Her hands and feet trembled. A reckless impulse to risk everything was rising, but just before she made the worst choice, she saw her mentor’s eyes blink.

She nearly gasped.

The old mage in black robes finally awoke. His stiff muscles relaxed, and his cloudy eyes cleared. He saw the nervous, frightened student standing before him.

He didn’t know how long he had been unconscious, but she hadn’t fled.

Mary’s voice trembled as she spoke: “Master… are you alright?”

“I made a deal with a terrible being,” the old mage rasped.

(End of chapter)