The Repeating Dream
As soon as one person's words trailed off, another mouth opened.
"Didn't that guy fail to awaken his divine power?"
The silence shattered with those words, and the surroundings quickly grew noisy. Ludenberg Lavante couldn't help but frown at the clamor.
"Yeah, I heard he couldn't awaken it."
"Isn't he using some weird trick? It doesn't make sense otherwise. Pure physical ability alone producing those results?"
"But I didn't sense any flow of divine power from Ludenberg. Doesn't seem like he's using any tricks... Still, why does looking at him make me feel so repulsed?"
"Maybe you've got good instincts? He's kinda off in real life too. At Eden's birthday, he suddenly went wild and attacked Eden out of nowhere."
"For real?"
"Yeah, I was there and saw it clear as day. Definitely not a good guy."
The murmurs treated Ludenberg like some monster. They refused to believe the results they'd witnessed, unwilling to acknowledge his pure skill even after seeing it. A moment's rational thought would reveal how absurd their claims were, but they couldn't accept what they'd seen logically. And when the rumor of him assaulting Eden spread, the crowd nodded as if it all made sense.
Ignoring the negative reactions around him, Ludenberg asked Hainkel Hereis directly.
"Is the sparring done after one round?"
"Ah, I forgot to mention. The professors have to evaluate two hundred freshmen individually, so spars happen once a day over three days. That's why the Knight Faculty freshmen start three days earlier than the second- and third-years. You're free to go once it's over."
"Understood."
With that, Ludenberg left the training ground immediately. He could have stayed to scout the other students' skills, but he'd clash with them endlessly in the future anyway—no need to waste time now.
On the way back, doubts swirled in his mind, and he muttered to himself.
"What the hell was that dream...?"
He was genuinely curious about the dream he'd had. The vastly improved skill and senses. The swordsmanship that let him leap over the wall he'd faced in an instant. It wasn't just his growth. Why was the dream version of himself slaughtering all life? And why did those sensations feel so vividly real? Everything was a mystery. What was that dream? Why show him such things?
Come to think of it, today's fight with Gawin had been strange too. Why had his senses sharpened so suddenly? Ludenberg recalled the words of the enigmatic woman on the jade throne from the dream.
"Even if the world turns against you, advance. Do not falter."
"Do not yield yourself."
'The world turns against me?'
Thinking it over, it rang true. Cursed and shunned for failing to awaken divine power. Maybe she was telling him not to give up.
'Who the hell is she? Why say those things to me? Don't yield myself? To what?'
Lost in such thoughts, Ludenberg felt drowsiness creeping in.
Again. The same dream, repeating for the third time.
At this point, Ludenberg was convinced. This wasn't just a dream.
Gazing at the scene, he watched his dream-self mercilessly cut down humans and erosion beasts alike. Just like last time, he memorized every movement, every action. The flawless precision was so captivating he couldn't look away. He had to make those motions his own.
How? How could he replicate them?
The answer came simply: face it directly. It was a dream, after all—dying here wouldn't kill his real self. He could challenge his dream counterpart endlessly.
But then he realized something from the previous dreams: the dream-self had never noticed him.
'How do I make it recognize me?'
After a moment's thought, Ludenberg picked up a sword scattered among the corpses. If he attacked with it, surely it'd notice?
He took stance and thrust. The blade shot straight, poised to strike true.
But it was blocked.
In that instant, the boundary of perception shattered. The dream Ludenberg locked eyes with the real one. Ludenberg's breath caught.
He couldn't breathe.
"...!"
Immense pressure crushed his body. But it lasted only a moment—time froze, and the vise released as before. Gasping, Ludenberg steadied his ragged breaths.
"You reached me."
The voice echoed—the same cryptic one from every dream. Normally, it would end the dream here, but this time felt different. Instinct told him so.
Ludenberg seized the chance and asked the voice.
"Who are you?"
"Raha."
"Are you just a figment of this dream?"
"No."
"Then why show me this scene?"
"This unfolding scene is the future you'll bring."
"My... future? You mean I'll become that monster someday?"
A beast that only slaughtered everything around it. That was Ludenberg's assessment of his dream-self. The insane strength tempted him, but he didn't want to become a monster stripped of humanity.
"Yes. You'll be tainted by evil."
The declarative words felt like a death sentence, sealing his fate. Ludenberg snapped irritably, dropping all formality.
"...Don't make me laugh. I have no intention of becoming that monster."
"If that's your wish."
Space warped. The dream landscape shattered piece by piece. Once it fully crumbled, a new scene overlaid it: a pitch-black void with a jade throne.
Seated there was a woman clad entirely in black, bound by seven layers of iron chains. A grotesque mask of mist shrouded her face, hiding its contours.
She spoke.
"I'll help you. So your future can change."
The dream ended, and Ludenberg opened his eyes. Pondering the woman named Raha's words,
'She'll help me?'
One thing he'd gleaned from the dream: her warning not to yield himself likely meant not to surrender to the 'evil' coming for him.
But could he trust her? His closest friend had betrayed him—why trust some dream woman who appeared out of nowhere? Normally, he'd scoff. Yet considering the irrational events befalling him, maybe he should. The notion of evil devouring him from within planted an ominous seed.
Ominous or not, there was nothing he could do now. These mysteries were beyond his current means. For the time being, he'd gather info from the dreams. Even scraps, accumulated, might reveal something.
Still, Ludenberg made vows in his heart. He wouldn't lose himself to whatever evil sought to consume him. And he'd keep advancing, never giving up.
As these grave thoughts deepened, his stomach suddenly growled fiercely.
'Oh right, I haven't eaten. Complicated stuff later—fill the gut first.'
He was starving.
Solemnute Adem's shopping district bustled with all sorts of shops: groceries, blacksmiths, even stores selling saint law tools powered by divine power. But as an academy town, restaurants and dessert shops dominated.
They couldn't match the student cafeteria, but generations-old eateries guaranteed decent flavor. Perfect for cheap meals when skipping cafeteria hours—like Ludenberg now.
Expecting intense activity ahead, hearty fare was best. Meat-heavy menu it was.
First time in the district, Ludenberg picked a random spot. It was packed. Glancing around, he saw Knight Faculty freshmen sightseeing, faces flushed from drink.
Many faces from today's spars. Admitted to Solemnute Adem, they were adults—drinking wasn't odd. Ludenberg shrugged it off.
But their drunken racket grated. He sat with a scowl and ordered a steak.
His temper would've stormed out normally, but hunger pinned him down.
As irritation peaked from noise and emptiness, the fancy steak arrived. It was decent. Ludenberg ate quietly.
Soon, he finished in his pocket of calm and left the restaurant. Vowing never to miss dinner again.
'Hurry back and train.'
Heading to the dorms, he changed into training gear and hit the training ground.
It was deserted. No one swinging a blade. Relieved, Ludenberg grabbed a weapon from the rack.
Sword first. Gripping it summoned dream visions to mind. He recalled and mimicked every motion his dream-self made.
Unsatisfying. Choppy, off-balance, like something was wrong.
Still, no disappointment. Persistence would improve it. Believing that, he redoubled his efforts.