Illusory Dream (3)
“...Hmm.”
“……”
Choi Siwoo watched Cecilia, who stood with arms crossed, eyes squeezed shut in deep concentration. The furrow etched between her brows. The subtle tapping of her fingers she wasn't even aware of. These were quirks he knew intimately after years together.
…It's really her. Cecilia.
No mere doppelganger could mimic this level of detail. Even copying every action perfectly couldn't fool the senses.
“...Regression. Truly hard to believe.”
“That's right.”
“And no one knows this except the goddess?”
“Probably. I figured someone on the level of the Six Demon Lords might notice... but judging by the Empress's state, no.”
“Either way. Traversing time... Hmmm...”
Cecilia shook her head skeptically, arms still crossed. It was the nuance of disbelief, yet silenced by the living witness before her.
“However...”
“However?”
“It suddenly crossed my mind during my talk with Goddess Irelua. I'm starting to doubt if what I went through was really regression.”
“I've lived a thousand years. Never heard of any miracle that sends one decades into the past. And considering the Empress's authority, it just doesn't add up.”
“...World interference. Is that what you mean?”
“Indeed. The Empress of Illusory Dreams pulls existences from other worlds. But only from worlds that truly existed—a strict precondition. Worlds born of illusion are 'fake,' so her power doesn't mesh with others. That's why she stalls at rank six; her strength operates in isolation.”
“Yeah... I saw it firsthand.”
With that, Choi Siwoo fell silent.
...I think I've read something like this before.
A plot from a novel he'd devoured before possession. The protagonist defies time, only to uncover the world's truth and realize it wasn't regression after all—the shock and disconnect. Choi Siwoo felt something similar now.
Of course, nothing was certain yet. Could be his imagination or an unexpected variable.
But... his ominous hunches never missed. No way, no way, the thought flooded his mind.
The conversation lapsed.
Pop!
“Ugh! Wh-what the hell, Master?!”
Cecilia, having smacked his back hard, snorted with an hmph!
“Your dumb disciple's gloomy mug made me wanna slap it.”
“Huh?”
“What's with the brooding? I was excited for some heart-to-heart with my precious disciple after so long... and you pull this funeral face. Am I that ugly?”
“No way...”
“Then smile.”
She grabbed his cheeks and yanked them upward. The forced muscles formed a clumsy grin.
“Mmm! Much better. Smile. Good things come to those who do. I was smiling at our first meeting too, wasn't I?”
“...Yeah, you were. Though it was the mad cackle of someone who'd lost their stocks and muttered, 'Eh, just kill myself then.'”
“Meeeow! Don't spout nonsense! Anyway, quit worrying.”
Gazing at the high sun, she smiled softly. Crashing waves foamed white. A cool breeze tousled her hair in the air. Grinning broadly, Cecilia clasped his hands. Warm. Not the chill of the dead, but the heat of the living seeped into his chest.
“Regression or not, does it matter? This moment—us reunited—is the miracle.”
“……”
“You've been exhausted, drained. You bottle it all up, never expressing—the perfect recipe for inner turmoil.”
“...Only with you, Master.”
Cecilia climbed onto his lap. Her petite frame fit perfectly in his arms. Looking down, her lime-green eyes captivated like gems.
“Tell me more. Your life's moments... joys, sorrows, frustrations, even stupid failures. Spill it all to your master.”
“……”
Slowly, he opened up. He recounted right after her death. Then post-regression. Every bottled anguish poured out to his cherished master.
When topics ran dry, they'd reminisce and laugh. Tease, bicker—the joyous time flew. The blazing sun dipped, casting twilight. As darkness crept from the horizon, Choi Siwoo suddenly went quiet. No more wind, no crashing waves.
“Why the sudden silence?”
“……”
He couldn't answer. Instinct told him. Cecilia's body was fading. Crumbling ankles and hands. No more miracles. Their time was ending. He had to accept farewell.
Of course, he knew. Erina and the others were fighting hard. He needed to grab the fragments, help them.
But...
“Our disciple's awfully teary today. You mentioned possession first, right? By age, you're over fifty. Menopause, huh?”
“...I'd rather not hear that from my thousand-year virgin master.”
“Meeeooow! You brat!! So you did read the diary I left as a memento!!”
“Obviously. Who writes diaries at your age, Immutable Faith Woman? And hearts at the end— ”
“Y-you damned disciple!!!”
Her shriek filled the island. Soon, with an up you go! she stood, gazing at the approaching full moon.
“Time to part.”
“……”
“Don't mope too much. I'm in this world anyway.”
Steadying her breath, she fixed him with solemn eyes. The gentle mood shifted to awe-inspiring pressure.
“Still, before we part, I can't close my eyes without checking my disciple's state. Rise.”
A bolt of lightning split the starry night. In her hand swirled three silver swords. Her beloved blade, once wielded by the Empress of Illusory Dreams. But its power was worlds apart. The true master's brilliance dazzled.
Choi Siwoo silently extended his hand. The 'ROGUE' special-material sword that felled Ichimaru Ken materialized.
“Ready?”
“...Yes.”
Their forms vanished. Thunderous clashes echoed, sword winds filling the air. Deadly sword ki blanketed the island. Through strikes and realms, they shared unspoken tales.
“...So Choi Siwoo saved you too?”
“Yeah, Siwoo's a good guy.”
“C-calling him by name?”
“Yeah, didn't ask permission... but it'll be fine.”
Yurika forced down her unease, eyeing Seol Garam. An inscrutable face. But her smile at his name betrayed deep fondness.
A lump like a boulder rolled in Yurika's throat—awkward, uncomfortable. To change the subject, she pointed at another.
“Wien. You too?”
“Yeah. Choi Siwoo showed up and helped. Well, technically slapped a conical hat on me and sang happy birthday.”
“...What nightmare did you have...”
“Don't remember details... but I know he got me out.”
The trio battled endless sentinels, now catching a breather. Infinite shadows spawned beyond sight. Without destroying the domain, it'd be endless attrition. They needed a cooldown.
Somehow, talk of the phenomenon veered to Choi Siwoo.
“What the hell is he? Choi Siwoo.”
Seol Garam replied instantly to Wien's mutter.
“Good person.”
“...No, you? Seol Garam, right? You're acting like you've known him forever... Can't we think seriously? He definitely has some huge secret.”
Seol Garam shook her head.
“Saved me and you two. That's enough.”
“...Blind faith. Anyway, Yurika, you know anything?”
“……”
“...Yurika?”
“Ah, sorry. I don't really...”
With an ahaha... she deflected, but pondered Choi Siwoo silently. His hand holding hers as they walked. His back shielding her from threats. Warm whispers of it's okay blocking harsh sounds.
And finally...
...What was that?
An adult Choi Siwoo hugging her, stroking her hair like it was fine. His tear-streaked end lingered.
She'd mentioned it, but as Saintess, Yurika knew miracles. Unexplainable powers sometimes manifested. Like peering into lifetimes and souls.
So she was certain. That memory was Choi Siwoo's past.
……
It defied logic. How could the past look more future? The two names he whispered at the end.
“...Choi Haru. Choi Uri...”
“Yurika?”
“Ah... yes?”
“What'd you say...”
“N-nothing.”
A gurgling rasp echoed from afar. The sentinels approached; the three readied for battle.
Yurika infused holy power into her staff, thinking:
A little more...
I want to know more about Choi Siwoo.
Purple sword ki carved a straight path through raging lightning. Metal clashed, scorching hotter than fire.
Spinning half-turn, Cecilia unleashed dozens of sword ki bolts shaped like thunder. Linked bolts netted the area.
Kaboom!
“Ngh!”
Lightning scorched the shore; the rock encasing his body shattered.
Petrified Skin (Lv.12)
To buy time, he snapped his fingers. Twin flame arms erupted beneath Cecilia. She shrugged them off effortlessly, assuming a stance.
“You've picked up some tricks while apart!”
Her form vanished, closing distance instantly. Choi Siwoo sweated inwardly. Not his prime self—half strength or less against his master was no joke; he was dying here.
Every downward strike weighs like a mountain.
Wave-like barrages prioritized offense. Punching unbreakable rock barehanded. Precise, blinding speed. Like fighting a phantom.
Without knowing her habits from long spars, he'd be down already.
Clang!
He couldn't block the flash thrust, vomiting blood. Cecilia pursued faster than his retreat. Absurd extreme speed. Her eyes gleamed blue—unyielding until victory. He swallowed hard.
Then.
“?!”
“!!”
A scroll blocked her strike with faint light.
“This is...?”
Before surprise faded, the centipede drawing writhed alive, lunging forward.
“Queeeesh!”
With a roar, its iron-whip tail lashed.
Boom!
Choi Siwoo eyed the flung-back Cecilia, then the massive centipede coiling around him.