Chapter 785: Returning to Reality

A psychic storm howled and raged, manifesting as a tangible tempest within this world forged from mental energies. Wherever the fierce magic swept through, the myriad constructs made of dreams and projections shattered and dissolved into nothingness.

Archbishop Magnum raised his hands high, a pleased smile spreading across his face.

In such a bizarre place, facing a horde of twisted projections and insidious traps of the mind, it was hardly a pleasant experience.

To be honest, unraveling these layered, unpredictable mental snares was not his forte.

But once the battle reached the stage where both sides revealed their health bars… oh, that was his element!

After all, before throwing himself into the bleak career of a cultist, he had been a priest serving the God of War.

Though the War God’s influence was weak in the Ansu-Cecil region, and its followers few, in the Typhon Empire the War God’s church was the most powerful faction. The empire’s armies were filled with War God priests—each one a grizzled, hot-tempered veteran.

Amid the howling psychic storm, Gawain, cloaked in psychological invisibility, narrowed his eyes slightly.

The pale golden runes summoned by Archbishop Yuri flickered and circled around the exploration team, forming a sturdy psychic barrier. Outside the barrier raged a storm that seemed intent on destroying everything; inside, all was calm and still.

So those golden runes were meant to protect the team from friendly fire…

A wry thought crossed Gawain’s mind as his gaze drifted past the Sleeper’s exploration squad toward the church steps not far away.

The psychic storm could only batter fragile projections and the passive plaza space. The elderly cleric with his strange divine arts still stood firmly at the top of the church steps, protected by some kind of ward against the storm’s damage. His face was twisted with fanatic fury and shock as he fixed his gaze on Selina Gervin, who was steadily ascending the steps.

Though Selina appeared to be no more than a thirteen- or fourteen-year-old girl, as she held her lantern and moved forward, a vast and terrifying aura radiated around her. That aura gradually suppressed the sacred, majestic hymns echoing above the church and even stifled the divine arts the old cleric was desperately casting.

Gawain was not surprised by this at all.

After all, this exploration team was the elite of the Sleeper faction, led by a legendary figure known as the “Saint” from seven centuries ago.

Though this legendary figure had fallen in the real world, in this realm sustained by souls and psychic power, her strength was undiminished—perhaps even greater.

At first, the strange nature of the Phantom Town and the overflow of power from Sandbox One had overwhelmed everyone, creating crisis and pressure. But now, face to face, in direct confrontation, how could a mere projection of a cleric stand against Selina?

“O Supreme Overarching Narrator! Send down your power! Punish these rioters who disturb the church’s peace!” The old cleric roared in desperation. It seemed he had resolved to pay a great price to unleash a power that could turn the tide. The layers of halos behind him suddenly expanded, covering half the plaza. His voice merged with the omnipresent sacred hymns, thundering through the town. “May your kingdom come upon the earth, may your will be done, as in heaven, so on this holy land—”

Above the church plaza, the magnificent and holy “Heavenly Choir” grew loud and clear once more. Within the halos behind the old cleric, layers of phantasmal images seemed to push against some barrier, trying to break through into this world. This divine descent ritual was clearly beyond what Daniel and the others had expected—

A projection, a believer in the Overarching Narrator, not only able to cast ordinary divine arts but even perform a godly descent ritual?!

For a moment, Archbishop Yuri hesitated. He even considered letting the old cleric finish the ritual to see what exactly he would summon—but he quickly dismissed the dangerous thought, knowing it was likely a trap planted by the enemy.

Just as he prepared to join the other Sleepers in interrupting the ritual, the grand divine magic abruptly ceased.

The sacred hymns in midair cut off sharply, the phantasmal images within the halos vanished instantly. The old cleric’s desperate ritual went unanswered.

Even the old cleric himself was stunned for a moment before his face twisted in terror. “Lord… why… why?!”

Selina stepped onto the final step before the church. She lifted her head and looked down at the old cleric, who was now lost in confusion and despair. Though she looked up, her aura was as if she were looking down from above. “You seem surprised… so your divine arts could indeed summon a projection of some of the Overarching Narrator’s power?”

“You heretic! What have you done?!” The old cleric snapped out of his shock, stepping back half a pace, eyes blazing with fury and fear as he stared at Selina holding the lantern. “Why… why can I no longer feel the Lord’s power? Why can I no longer hear—”

“I did nothing,” Selina said quietly, her gaze steady. “Need me to remind you? You’re just a projection. This town is a projection. Everything here is a projection.

“If you heard your ‘Lord’s’ voice during your prayers before, it was an illusion.

“If you could cast the divine arts your ‘Lord’ granted you, you were merely overdrawing on the power of this phantom town.

“Because you’re just a projection.”

The milky light from Selina’s lantern shone like sunlight piercing the depths of a dream, awakening the mind and breaking through the old cleric’s mental defenses.

The repeated word “projection” echoed with the light’s power, stabbing into the locked and sealed depths of his consciousness.

The entire Phantom Town trembled violently.

The jagged spires crumbled silently, streets cracked in an instant, and everything began to irreversibly disintegrate, as if some pillar holding this world had vanished. The town, sustained only by fragmented projection data, was on the brink of collapse.

Clearly, after confirming the limits of the projection cleric’s power and realizing that the Overarching Narrator in Sandbox One might be connected to this phantom town through divine arts, Selina Gervin no longer intended to preserve this dangerous “sample.”

“No… this can’t be…” The old cleric retreated in terror before the church’s great door, which bore the emblem of the Overarching Narrator. Black cracks spread across his body, as if he were a porcelain doll shattering rapidly—a horrifying sight. “The Lord will protect me! The Lord is supposed to be omniscient and omnipotent! Lord… why can I no longer hear…”

Selina looked at the projection cleric with a hint of pity—he was already doubting his own existence, even questioning the Overarching Narrator itself. Then she stepped forward toward the church doors. “Mission complete. Withdraw.”

The exploration team silently followed the figure holding the lantern. One by one, they passed through the now-fading projection of the cleric, who reached out in vain, as if trying to stop them. But he was now as insubstantial as a shadow, powerless to block anyone.

Gawain had stood quietly from the start, watching the Sleeper exploration team members disappear one by one through the church doors, their presence fading from this “town after the bell tolls.” Only after the last person left did he step forward to the church entrance.

The sky had darkened. The town was collapsing inward, buildings crumbling in the distance, black fragments swirling like fallen leaves blown toward the gloomy, chaotic sky.

The shattered projection cleric leaned against the church door, his eyes a mix of fanaticism and confusion.

Suddenly, a stranger’s figure reflected in his nearly broken eyes.

Gawain deliberately dispelled his psychological invisibility, as if to confirm something, and stood quietly before the projection.

“Can you see me?” he asked slowly, lowering his head.

“You are…” The projection cleric’s eyes widened in shock as he stared at the stranger. “What… what are you?!”

“Interesting that you can see me,” Gawain smiled faintly, then shook his head. “Too bad you’re just a projection, and your connection to Sandbox One has been severed. Otherwise, I might have asked you to pass a message to the Overarching Narrator.”

The projection’s consciousness was already fading, repeating instinctively: “Pass a message?”

“An otherworldly wanderer will visit your Lord soon.”

The last glimmer of light in the town vanished.

The longest-lasting overflow projection from Sandbox One in the psychic network dissipated into smoke and shadow.

With a familiar shift of light and a brief dizziness, Gawain returned to the real world.

Nearby, the sound of someone cracking sunflower seeds came through. Gawain barely turned his head when a handful of seeds was offered to him.

“Here, have some seeds.”

Gawain didn’t take them. Lost in thought, he muttered to himself, “After this, the Sleepers will probably take direct action against Sandbox One…”

In the Phantom Town, that nameless projection cleric had indeed wielded divine arts—though his final godly descent ritual failed, the very fact he could cast divine arts meant the Overarching Narrator in Sandbox One had, on some level, attained godlike traits!

The deep mental contamination Yuri and the others encountered during their calibration further proved that this “quasi-divine being” was no mere illusion—it could secretly influence and affect the outside world.

The Sleepers would not stand idly by. Even at great risk, they would likely escalate their actions.

As for Gawain himself… the words he spoke to the projection cleric were no idle remark. He had already anticipated that the Sleepers’ efforts would probably fail.

The Overarching Narrator they themselves had “created” was far too restrained in wielding its own power.

Gawain had resolved to find a way to intervene in the Sleepers’ next moves, even if it meant sneaking into Sandbox One when they opened it, to uncover its secrets firsthand.

Amber, used to Gawain’s occasional daydreams, smoothly gathered the seeds back into the snack box and continued cracking them, casually remarking, “Things over there are getting even bigger, huh?”

“Yeah.” Gawain replied absently, his gaze settling on Amber.

The matters within the psychic network demanded attention, but so did those in the real world.

Selina Gervin’s image lingered in his mind.

“Amber—how’s the investigation I assigned you going?”

“You mean the whereabouts of Selena Gervin?” Amber nodded. “Still investigating. And I already have a prime suspect…”

“A prime suspect?” Gawain raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Who?”

“The Kant region and the Grant region—those are the two main areas under suspicion for now,” Amber said, setting down her sunflower seeds and clapping her hands together with a serious expression. “The former had the ‘Dream Lantern,’ a relic of the Sleepless Cult. As for the latter… Patty’s crown is a highly suspicious object.”

“If Selena Gervin used magical artifacts to transfer her soul, these two items are the most likely ‘vessels.’ Either could have served as a container.”

“Of course, the Dream Lantern has since been moved to Cecil City, but Rebecca dismantled it into pieces, and Kamail has studied it multiple times. We know for sure it’s empty inside. So if it was a vessel, Selena must have left it before then…”

Amber laid out her reasoning clearly, and Gawain’s gaze grew increasingly astonished.

It seemed that even if he hadn’t uncovered any crucial clues during this investigation, this goose in front of him—with the intelligence she had gathered—would sooner or later find a lead on Selena Gervin. Even if they couldn’t pinpoint Patty herself, they could at least narrow down the circle around her.

Gawain chuckled, shook his head, and cut Amber off before she could say more.

“Make arrangements. I’m heading to Grant.”

Amber’s eyes went wide.

After studying Gawain’s expression for a moment, she blurted out, “Oh man… was all my work for nothing?”

Gawain: “…”

Why is this one getting sharper by the day?

(End of chapter)