Within the Nightmare
“A dragon! Even scouring the entire continent's history, it's been nearly 150 years since one last appeared, hasn't it?!”
“Heavens. I'm almost envious of Bardi County and the Ardia Kingdom...”
“Insane, truly insane. A status of 4,550—professors can't even pull that off easily, right?”
“Who would've thought Belluraca's prince would fall in a single blow...”
“Wow, damn. A dragon... I wish I could play a card like that just once...”
The audience seats erupted in a frenzy the moment Ricardo and Alexander's duel ended.
As one elderly professor had chattered, a dragon-type creature appearing on the continent was a phenomenon unseen for over 150 years.
It was no wonder people were going wild over the majesty of a real dragon—something none had laid eyes on in their lifetimes.
Of course, not everyone reacted positively.
“Th-this might sound weird, but... isn't it kinda grotesque? The books in my family library described dragons as so captivating you'd fall under their spell at first sight.”
“True. That Lost World zone was creepy too.”
“And that cursed wooden puppet. Sure, the tactics using those trash cards were innovative, but they're undeniably freakish-looking.”
“What on earth does it eat to grow up harboring such twisted imagery?”
Some, half-engulfed in fear, picked apart the appearances of the cards Ricardo had played.
“Hmm, shouldn't we look into Bardi County?”
“What are you talking about now?”
“Dragons are familiars that only manifest for figures like a kingdom's founder. Aside from their immense power, they can't emerge unless the psyche brims with ambition.”
“Watch your tongue—that's dangerous talk! Bardi County has been a loyal pillar of the kingdom for generations!”
“The current head, maybe. But who says the heir will be the same!”
Others sought to attack Bardi County and skim some profits.
“A dragon...? Damn it all!”
“C-calm down, Diego.”
“Yeah. If you dueled him directly, you'd win for sure.”
Diego Borromeo, the third son of Marquis Borromeo, gnawed at his nails with bloodshot eyes—pure jealousy burning in those like him.
In the chaos of tangled emotions, Ardia's princess Alessia Le Fell Ardia quietly spoke up.
“Matteo.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Her voice dripped with unease. The man standing silently behind her bowed his head.
“Look into Bardi County. But do it discreetly.”
“As you command.”
The owner of a dragon-type creature unseen for 150 years—a precious talent. Don't try to gut that fish. Matteo grasped the princess's intent and replied gravely.
“And...”
“Eek...”
Her clear voice turned even chillier. Ignoring Beatrice's trembling, Alessia continued like an edict from on high.
“Those prattling fools need a gentle reminder too.”
“It shall be done.”
Ardia Kingdom was one of the continent's top powers. Slandering its prized talents demanded equal resolve in return—no exceptions, even for the greedy pigs of their own nation.
“Hoo...”
“Eek...”
Alessia leaned back, exhaling softly. Truth be told, she wanted to face Ricardo and speak with him directly. But she couldn't chase after someone who'd left for rest right after the duel.
Magic & Creature didn't inflict physical damage on players, but it demanded tremendous mental strain. High-rank creatures like Nautilus exhausted their users just by being summoned.
Ricardo Bardi...
A man with unprecedented power for a student, yet fragile as cracked glass. Recalling his face stirred a muffled pang somewhere deep—a novel emotion she couldn't name. Maternal instinct? Alessia pressed a hand to her aching chest.
Whispering his name unbidden.
Ah, I'm beat. I clutched my throbbing temples and dragged my feet onward.
The crowd's reactions, this fatigue— all expected once I summoned Nautilus. But facing it head-on? Not easy.
Summoning creatures drained mental energy, more so for higher ranks in summoning and maintenance. Battle Tables minimized that burden.
But top-tier creatures beyond a certain rank overwhelmed even them.
Especially since most of my Origin Cards, Nautilus included, dredged up past-life memories.
Couldn't hold back against Belluraca's prince, though. Have to endure it.
“You did well, young master.”
Isabella hurried up with quick steps, bowing politely. I replied she'd suffered watching quietly too, but she called it her duty as a maid. Same old WWE.
“...This is the lounge?”
“Yes, young master.”
Somehow she'd mapped the academy's insides flawlessly, guiding without hesitation. What emerged was a private suite rivaling a luxury hotel—not just one, either.
From her, I learned the academy provided room and board for examinees from afar.
No cars in this era, and some like Belluraca crossed seas. Made sense.
But maintaining this? Federico Academy's facilities were made by the founder archmage, so maybe self-sustaining magic handled it. No way humans managed all these rooms—slaves couldn't even.
“Guess I'll wash up...”
Said that, but truth was, I was too lazy. Limbs heavy as soaked cotton; didn't wanna move. I'd sweated buckets, though—
“Perhaps rest first, young master. You look exhausted.”
Isabella knelt gracefully on the bed, patting her lap.
“...I sweated a lot.”
“I know. You expend so much energy in duels.”
“I'll stink.”
“It's your scent—what's the problem?”
Deadpan, she dropped that bombshell. Problem was, this was routine WWE too.
“Young master.”
Pat, pat, pat.
Calling my name insistently again. As always, I couldn't resist—laid my head on her lap. ...Does she use the same perfume as Mom? It smelled warm, like sunlight.
“Then, just a bit... Put me down if I'm heavy.”
“Worry not...”
Sleep well, young master. Her sweet whisper burrowed into my ear. Consciousness fled reality in an instant.
But summoning Nautilus meant no true rest for me.
I came to alone amid barren ruins.
Shattered glass windows everywhere. Charred concrete buildings. Dangling, severed wires like a dead beast's guts.
Screee—screee—thud!
A precariously swinging sign crashed onto an abandoned car.
Black gasoline oozed thick as blood from the crushed frame.
The psyche Lost World projected. My dead old hometown.
Another nightmare today. I muttered flatly. As if drawn by the sound, rough hands gripped my leg.
Looking down: my squadmate Hyung-sik, lower body gone, entrails trailing, clutching my leg and staring up.
“Sergeant Kim Ji-hoon... find my legs, sir... Can't find 'em. Please find my legs...”
“...Hyung-sik.”
As you said, I was reborn in a world where I didn't have to shoot anyone anymore. Yet part of my soul lingered there.
My left arm yanked. Nails digging into flesh, vivid. Turning: squadmate Choi Tae-won, forehead rotting, spewing pus, screaming.
Aaahhh!
“Get this out, Ji-hoon! Head hurts so much! Get it out!!”
Even alive, he demanded the impossible—dead, still the same bastard. How the hell was I supposed to extract that bullet from your forehead?
“Ji-hoon...”
“Sergeant Kim Ji-hoon!”
“Ji-hoon!!”
“Jiii-hooon...”
Amid my comrades' clamor, I squeezed my eyes shut as always.
The dead hands crawling up, dragging me down endlessly—that moment.
Snow fell from the sky. As if to embrace this dead world.
“Nngh...”
Ricardo grimaced, groaning in torment. Isabella gently wiped the tears and cold sweat from his face with her handkerchief.
Another nightmare today. She gazed down at her beloved, pitiable master with misty eyes.
Not every duel brought this, but summoning something like Nautilus always tormented him without fail.
“...Young master.”
The girl saved by a red-eyed boy on a frigid winter day stroked his hair tenderly. The red scarf he'd gifted her that night slipped down.
“...Ricardo.”
As if to strip away her beloved man's nightmares, fears, and pains entirely.