Chapter 784: Storm of the Mind

Under Selina’s lead, the Sleeper exploration team—now down to just eight—began making their way toward the center of the town.

The Dreamlight Lantern swayed gently in the seemingly eternal gloom, its hazy glow casting faint light over the silent, empty streets. Daniel and the others remained on high alert, eyes scanning every corner for any strange changes. Gawain followed silently at the side, his gaze fixed on Selina Gel’s figure.

In the dream world, Patty loved to run freely. In the real world, she was weak but still forced a smile. And now, before him, stood this solemn “Patty,” holding the lantern. These three shadows circled in his mind, overlapping with the scene before him, gradually forming a strange impression—

He seemed to see Selina Gel’s projection holding Patty’s hand, walking at the front of the team.

He shook his head, dismissing the unlikely thought, then looked up. At the far end of the street, a faint light was rising.

Dawn.

Daniel and the others halted, eyes wide with disbelief as a brilliant streak of light suddenly cut through the darkness at the edge of this town trapped in endless night. The glow rapidly expanded, and in the blink of an eye, it blossomed into a vast sea of golden-red dawn, spilling lavishly over the uneven rooftops. Then the golden-red hues softened into pale gold sunlight, completely banishing the shadows between the streets.

A massive sun slowly rose on the horizon, radiating boundless light, driving away the darkness.

“It’s morning…” Daniel stared blankly at the magnificent sunrise, struck speechless by the breathtaking sight. But he quickly snapped back, conjuring a long staff in his hand. Within seconds, protective spells shielding their minds were cast over the entire team.

Morning had come! This was a phenomenon never before seen in this phantom town—beyond the midnight before the bell tolls and the midnight after, this was a third state!

Here, anything unprecedented meant only one thing: danger.

The other Sleepers readied themselves, preparing offensive and defensive spells, eyes wary of the shifting streets. Soon, the change unfolded before them—

Figures suddenly appeared in the alleys and streets.

Like phantoms waking from a dream into reality, the once-empty town streets now filled with countless vague shadows. Over the next few breaths, these shadows solidified, becoming real and tangible. They transformed into passersby, into the town’s many residents!

These people wore classical clothing unlike anything in the real world, their faces blank and hollow. At first, they staggered like wandering spirits, but soon “awoke,” their expressions lively, movements agile. They passed by Daniel and the others, walking and talking as if they had always lived normally in this town, as if no strangeness had ever existed here.

Archbishop Magnum’s hands shimmered with dizzying waves of light, a powerful psychic storm nearly unleashed. But at the last moment, the hot-tempered archbishop forcibly cut off his spell and stopped the others: “Wait! Let’s see what happens first!”

Archbishop Yuri, surrounded by intricate golden runes, was about to launch an attack spell but halted when Magnum spoke. His gaze swept the surroundings—

The crowds bustling through the streets seemed utterly oblivious to Daniel’s group. They went about their business, hurrying along, chatting with friends and family. The Sleeper team, standing conspicuously in the middle of the road, appeared invisible to every resident.

A cold sweat broke out on Daniel’s forehead.

The phantom town had suddenly become “lively,” but this bustling, vibrant street scene was far more eerie and terrifying than the deserted streets shrouded in night.

“This is also a projection of Sandbox One,” Selina’s voice broke the silence. “These residents are simply acting out the recorded data from the projection, like a massive illusion. They won’t interact with us.”

“…This gives me a huge inspiration for weaving nightmares,” Archbishop Magnum muttered loudly, louder than normal speech. “How did I never think of a scene like this before?”

“Keep moving,” Selina shook her head. “Also, pay attention to what these ‘phantom residents’ say. Their everyday conversations might reveal some of Sandbox One’s current state.”

The group cautiously pressed on toward the town center, moving carefully among the passing phantom townsfolk.

Everyone was careful not to make contact with these “phantom residents”—though curiosity burned in all of them about whether these shadows could be touched, and what might happen if they did. But all who took part in the mission had at least a basic caution. Without knowing the risks, no one dared to try anything that might trigger unknown consequences.

Gawain split his attention, listening closely to the conversations of the phantom residents. He, too, was curious about the “life” inside Sandbox One.

Most of the chatter was meaningless—just like any normal town’s idle talk. The “residents” discussed the weather, the harvest, family matters, daily necessities.

The people in Sandbox One seemed to live ordinary lives. They were born, grew old, fell ill, died, married, mourned. They had their worries, their hopes, their struggles for life and anxieties for the future…

The only difference from the real world was that in their conversations, they occasionally mentioned the “Higher Narrator”—praying to Him, swearing by Him, even using Him as part of everyday expressions.

They’d say things like, “Even the Higher Narrator would be surprised,” to describe something unbelievable. Or, “The Higher Narrator surely knows,” meaning they themselves had no clue—only the god knew.

Gawain frowned, his thoughts stirred.

In a way, the Sleepers had truly created a miracle—one even greater than the “False God’s Vessel” of the End of All Things.

So many people, with living, genuine minds, alongside sandbox-generated “virtual personalities,” living in this simulated world, generation after generation, each living rich, colorful lives with their own joys, sorrows, and aspirations. This had gone on for over a thousand years—until a flaw finally appeared.

Such advanced technology…

Couldn’t these tech geeks have done something more practical?

If only they’d put half as much effort into AI development as they did into dooming themselves, maybe they’d have already recreated the iron minds of the old Gondor Empire!

Gawain fought the urge to rant as the team reached the end of the street, arriving at the edge of the town square.

There stood the small church with its gray-white walls and tall spire, quietly poised in the square.

The church’s steeple basked in glorious sunlight, its walls gleaming under the giant sun. Before the mural symbolizing the Higher Narrator, residents paused to pay their respects and worship.

An elderly cleric in a simple gray robe stood at the church’s open door, smiling as he watched the bustling square. Residents lingered by his side, listening to his teachings about the Higher Narrator’s truth. Everything looked so peaceful and harmonious.

It was almost enough to make one forget this was a strange projection in the “Imaginary Zone,” a phantom town filled with twisted, dangerous forces. Almost enough to make one forget they were part of a mission-driven exploration team…

Archbishop Yuri snapped out of his daze. He saw a lantern flicker before him, and Selina Gel’s voice whispered in his ear: “Don’t let your guard down. Remember, this is just a projection. Everything here is false.”

Gawain glanced at the other Sleepers, puzzled. What had just happened? Was some force trying to invade their minds? Why hadn’t he felt it?

Nearby, the elderly cleric at the church door looked up, smiling gently at the tense, battle-ready Sleepers. His voice was calm: “Why resist? Isn’t this a beautiful world?”

As the cleric’s words fell, the busy townsfolk in the nearby streets and the square suddenly froze, like puppets caught mid-motion.

Then, in unison, they slowly turned their heads, their gazes settling on the unwelcome visitors standing in the square.

Every resident of the town quietly fixed their eyes on the Sleepers. Even Gawain felt a chill run down his spine.

The Sleepers braced themselves, but only Selina met the cleric’s gaze calmly. After a few seconds, she spoke slowly: “So… you have a soul close to the real thing. Are you a projection formed by the town’s controlling intelligence?”

The elderly cleric’s expression remained serene as he shook his head: “I don’t understand what you mean. I only think you should stay here a while longer—land blessed by the Higher Narrator is fortunate. Why return to that dangerous void?”

Gawain frowned—dangerous void? What did he mean?

Was he referring to the “Imaginary Zone” beyond the town? Or some current state inside Sandbox One?

Yuri’s gaze shifted behind the cleric, resting on the church’s open doors. After carefully sensing the information structure of the area, he lowered his voice: “That church is the exit—it should connect to the surface-level phantom town, linking to the main layer of the mind network.”

Magnum snorted: “I bet that guy won’t just let us stroll in there.”

Selina slowly raised the soul lantern in her hand and stepped toward the church: “I’m curious—can your Higher Narrator really protect your soul here?”

“The Higher Narrator is everywhere…” the cleric slowly spread his arms. “Where the Lord’s people stand, there the Lord is…”

Layers of radiant halos appeared behind the old man. Suddenly, an overwhelming pressure descended. The entire church square was filled with ethereal, majestic sacred music—

Everyone present, except for Gawain who remained unseen, felt their minds begin to unravel, their resistance weakening.

Within this projected town—deep in the imaginary zone beyond Sandbox One—an upper-level narrative priest, at best a mere phantom, wielded true divine power through some form of “faith” alone, unleashing a genuinely potent miracle!

Selina and Gawain, who remained hidden in a psychological cloak, both paled slightly. Selina stepped forward, her lantern bursting forth with a brilliance more dazzling than ever before, its light clashing against the halo that had appeared behind the old man, pushing back the pervasive force on the square that relentlessly drained everyone’s minds.

Golden runes swirled around Yuri, expanding into layered barriers that shielded the entire group. Without turning, the archbishop shouted, “Magnus! It’s time to do what you do best!”

The red-haired, diminutive Magnus raised both hands. “Psychic Storm!”

In an instant, the entire square shimmered with waves of flickering, illusory light that suddenly coalesced into a radiant, roaring tempest. The overwhelming psychic energy swept through Gawain’s vision, washing away everything—including the fanatical “phantom residents” who surged forward in waves, their faces twisted with zeal.

In this mind-powered projection of the town, the Psychic Storm—a spell usually reserved for secrecy—had truly become a storm!

The grotesque projected townsfolk melted like wax figures in a blazing fire, torn apart and scattered by the tempest. From the church steps came the furious roar of the elderly priest—his polite facade shattered, revealing a maddened, warped mind as his true form.

More phantom residents poured out from every alley, flooding toward the exploration team at the square’s center. The owl priests guarding the group unleashed mental attacks, steadily thinning the enemy ranks. Meanwhile, Magnus’s thunderous voice rang in Gawain’s ears once more: “Psychic Storm!!”

Another storm surged forth, fracturing the stone pavement beneath their feet. The relentless waves of phantom residents disintegrated into ash and dust. The howling tempest drowned out even the grand, majestic hymns soaring above the church. The oppressive sensation of mental erosion and fading resistance that had gripped everyone’s minds began to ease rapidly.

Then, Magnus raised his hands again, his voice louder than the thunderous storm itself:

“Psy-chic—Storm!”

“Psy-chic—Storm!!”

(End of chapter)