Chapter 782: The Trap Deep Within Memory

Yuri and Magnum stood on the empty streets of the deserted town, their faces mirroring the same confusion. Their minds were clearly disturbed, their senses blocked, all consciousness trapped behind a heavy “veil”—an identical state to what Daniel had experienced not long ago.

Gawain approached the two Everwake Archbishops, but before using his unique abilities to help them regain clarity, he cast a glance at Daniel.

“How do the clergy above the rank of bishop within the Everwake Order usually regard the ‘Outer Wanderers’?”

Daniel thought for a moment, then answered respectfully, “Your very existence is enough to instill dread and caution in most Everwakers. But the clergy above bishop rank tend to think more deeply than ordinary followers. While they fear you, they also analyze your actions, trying to deduce your possible stance…”

“Oh? Deduce my stance?” Gawain’s interest was piqued. “What kind of stance?”

“The bishops and archbishops believe that every Outer Wanderer carries a mission beyond mortal comprehension, and that your actions revolve around fulfilling this mission. They think it’s best to avoid conflict with you, as it serves no purpose. Some bishops see Outer Wanderers as beings without inherent good or evil, merely passing through this world—a temporary stopover in your eyes. A small number believe that limited, cautious contact with Outer Wanderers isn’t necessarily harmful. Although the Everwake’s first encounter with you was less than friendly, your activities in Ansu have shown you don’t mind cooperating or connecting with other mortals…”

Gawain stroked his chin, feeling as if the Everwakers had pigeonholed him as some kind of massive neutral monster roaming the wilds.

So these reclusive techies really live off their own imagination, huh?

Daniel quietly observed Gawain’s expression and cautiously asked, “My lord, may I ask why you inquire about this?”

“Nothing much, just curious,” Gawain replied casually, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he looked at Yuri and Magnum. “I wonder what would happen if I suddenly dropped my concealment and appeared before these two.”

Daniel’s face immediately showed surprise and shock, then he began seriously considering the feasibility of such an act.

Gawain chuckled, “Don’t take me seriously—I have no intention of doing that.”

With that, he approached the two archbishops still trapped in mental interference and gently placed his hand on one of them.

“From here on, I’ll return to the shadows.”

…

Yuri and Magnum had been lost in the boundless, chaotic mist for what felt like an endless, unending dream.

As experts in the realms of mind and dream, they were not panicked. They had already begun to grasp the cause of their predicament. Realizing the problem lay not in the external environment but within their own minds, the two archbishops ceased their futile wandering and instead tried to solve the problem from within.

“We’ll have to recalibrate our minds,” Magnum’s booming voice echoed through the fog. Yuri couldn’t make out his exact form or features, only a vaguely familiar gray-black silhouette drifting in the mist. This meant they were close, but the sensory interference made it impossible to see each other clearly, even at such proximity. “This damned fog must be some kind of mental projection interference, causing a disconnect between our conscious and sensory layers.”

“Probably more than just mental interference,” Yuri replied. “I can’t reach the monitoring team behind us. Beyond the sensory disruption, our entire minds have likely been shifted into a deeper level of confinement… This town is alive. It’s capable of crafting such a subtle and sinister trap to ensnare us.”

“This blasted place!” Magnum cursed. “Anyway, let’s recalibrate first. No matter where we’re trapped, we need to at least see what’s holding us.”

Listening to Magnum’s familiar loud grumbling, Yuri said calmly, “While you were shouting those curses, I was already doing just that.”

He gathered his scattered consciousness, focusing his slightly distorted thoughts, slowly redrawing his warped self-awareness in this chaotic, unbalanced sea of spirit.

The endless mist thickened around him, and many familiar yet strange shapes emerged within it. Yuri felt his mind sinking deeper into memory and consciousness. Gradually, the distracting fog lifted, and his vision finally revealed a coherent, “real” scene once more.

He found himself inside an ancient, gloomy castle—in the castle’s library.

The centuries-old stone walls were embedded with dimly glowing magic crystals. Classical “Trickle” style columns stretched into view, supporting a high vaulted ceiling of brick and stone. The intricate, mysterious murals and crests on the ceiling were covered in a layer of black-gray dust, as if merged with the darkness outside.

Between the columns and walls, beneath the somber vault and rough stone floor, stood rows of heavy oak bookshelves, each topped with brass lamp posts emitting a warm yellow light.

Yuri, clad in a white robe, quietly wandered through this ancient, shadowed castle, strolling among the towering shelves that seemed to swallow a person whole.

“Recalibrating the mind… is no pleasant task,” the Everwake Archbishop muttered softly, walking deeper along shelves that had long since faded in memory but now reappeared with crystal clarity.

This was a memory deeply buried—and one he could never forget.

He passed a black bookshelf, and between its two pillars was an oddly inset wooden door. As Yuri walked past, the door swung open on its own, light spilling out to reveal the scene beyond—

A boy dressed in a fine equestrian jacket ran through a bright castle, followed anxiously by servants and maids. An elderly steward stood nearby, panting, his face full of helplessness.

Yuri’s gaze didn’t waver; he quietly passed by, leaving the door behind.

The next bookshelf, the next door…

A boy rode swiftly along the manor’s paths, startled birds taking flight nearby. Servants in red and blue cloaks hurried close behind.

An older boy sat in the library, smiling as he read expensive tomes. The old steward stood quietly beside him, a peaceful smile on his face.

People came and went in the castle. A middle-aged noble couple, their faces blurred by time, stood in the courtyard with furrowed brows.

Someone read aloud the emperor’s decree. Others discussed the dark clouds over Aldernan, the intrigues and struggles within the Obsidian Palace. Whispers of Prince Rosetta Augustus’s name floated by, along with talk of the Augustus family’s madness and paranoia. They spoke of the fallen old imperial capital and the curse spreading among the royal family after its collapse.

Strangers appeared in the castle—knights with faces hidden behind iron masks. The servants lost their former radiance. The old steward frowned deeply. Whispered voices echoed between the shelves, filling Yuri’s ears with chilling words: rebellion, betrayal, the old emperor’s descent into madness, the Obsidian Palace engulfed in flames.

The castle’s lavish furnishings were stripped away. The heavy boots of royal infantry shattered the manor’s peaceful paths. The boy had grown into a young man—no longer riding horses or laughing freely. He sat quietly in the ancient library, buried in yellowed tomes and secret knowledge.

The servants were dismissed. The lord of the castle left for Aldernan and never returned. The lady of the house wandered the courtyard, muttering curses in madness. Yellowed leaves swirled into the now-empty hall. The young man’s cold gaze pierced through the door crack, watching the sparse servants outside, as if the world’s changes no longer concerned him.

The court intrigues of Aldernan, the shadow of madness over the Augustus family, nobles living in fear… none of it mattered to him.

Day after day, the young man sat in the library, deep within the last preserved family legacy. The scrolls in his hands grew darker and stranger, filled with terrible secrets and forbidden knowledge.

He studied the empire’s history, the records of the old capital’s collapse, with a mocking, superior gaze. He boldly delved into the forbidden secrets of the Augustus family’s curse, seemingly unconcerned that such research might bring more shame upon his house.

In the process, he uncovered countless dusty books and scrolls from the family’s collection.

They contained knowledge of dreams, mental arts, and dark sorcery.

Hidden knowledge seeped into his mind. A stranger’s consciousness connected with his through symbols and words tucked in the margins of the scrolls. He locked himself in the library, becoming the world’s despised “prisoner of the library,” the “fallen oathbreaker noble.” Yet his spirit found release, transcending the castle and manor’s bonds through repeated attempts at forbidden arts.

An Everwake was born deep within the ruined noble’s castle.

Yuri wandered through the library, gradually reaching the deepest part of this palace of memory.

Before the final door, he saw his younger self standing quietly among piles of scattered books. His pale, youthful face bore a calm yet maddened smile. Complex dream runes covered his robe, the floor, and walls nearby, glowing faintly in the dark.

Heavy footsteps echoed in the scene. Fully armored royal knights burst into the young man’s domain. Their leader loudly read Emperor Rosetta Augustus’s order: to arrest the oathbreaker noble secretly researching royal secrets, accused of offending the crown and practicing dark witchcraft.

The young man, now an Everwake, smiled and unleashed a massive spell array throughout the library. Within moments, all invading knights became loyal followers of the Everwake Order.

“There are no Everwakes here, because everyone is an Everwake…”

Yuri stopped before the last row of shelves, quietly watching the memory scene unfolding through the door.

It depicted the final step of his transformation into an Everwake.

But that was over a decade ago.

Traversing through his memories helped reconstruct the subconscious self-awareness. The archbishop felt his mind steadily regaining its stability. He had redrawn the contours of his self-perception, and in theory, the disruptive force that had caused the misalignment between his conscious and perceptual layers would be completely eradicated once this process was complete.

He relaxed slightly, facing the deepest recesses of his memory with calm composure. His gaze casually swept over the rows of nearby bookshelves, taking in the heavy, ancient volumes bound in ornate covers.

On the cover of each book was depicted a vast expanse of land, with a hand hovering above it, palm down.

Yuri’s eyes suddenly froze. A sharp pang gripped his heart, and from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a young man—himself from over a decade ago—standing behind the last door, wearing a strange, unsettling smile.

The figure smiled, slowly raising his hand, palm horizontal and facing downward, as if covering an invisible land beneath it.

“To the upper narrators, to our omniscient and omnipotent creator…”

Yuri’s eyes widened. Pale golden runes shimmered beside him as he struggled to break free from these deep-seated memories. He shouted urgently:

“Archbishop Magnum!
Don’t calibrate your mind! Don’t delve into your deepest memories!
This is a trap—”

He vaguely heard the archbishop’s furious roar in response, realizing that the hot-tempered Magnum was likely facing the same crisis as himself. But before he could react further, a violent turbulence shook his consciousness. The heavy shadow that had hung over his soul was abruptly swept away by some brutal force.

In the flickering chaos of light and shadow, the images of the castle and library vanished completely. He found himself standing on a street in a phantom town, lit by street lamps. Archbishop Daniel looked at him, bewildered.

“What were you shouting about?” Daniel frowned.

(End of chapter)