The Great Madness (12)
The situation every Tolkienist dreams of—but in a real dream, it’s an absolutely unwelcome sight. Why? Because this otherworldly Gandalf is radiating an overwhelming pressure without saying a single word.
Even though it’s a dream, who the hell wants to meet a monster that looks like it could harvest my nuts with a single punch? At least I wasn’t some masochist who enjoyed that kind of nightmare.
──Swish.
The solo rider of the rainbow—no, Gandalf—raised his hand. I should probably be grateful he wasn’t using a spear.
──Kwaaaaaaaaang!!
I’d underestimated him because the mana I sensed from him felt faint. The moment I lowered my guard, a streak of lightning slammed into me like an actual bolt from the sky.
“What the fuck, Mom…?!”
I flew backward as if I’d taken a soccer kick from a mammoth’s front leg. I was too slow to activate Beast Regression. If this hadn’t been a dream, I would’ve died instantly. If this dream didn’t nullify pain, and if I hadn’t kept the ᚦ (Thurisaz) rune active to maintain my sanity, an innocent, hardworking graduate student like me would’ve been on his way to Valhalla.
They say the good die young and get taken to heaven early by the gods. Who knew I’d become a victim of that urban legend? Living a decent life was literally tripping me up right now! Who could’ve predicted this?!
“──Ugh!”
Franc hurled the mithril spear I’d brought with me. It was a desperate counterattack born from having no weapon, but her throw—boosted by racial bonuses to strength and dexterity—was every bit as powerful as mine.
Yet the result was a complete failure. That damn Gandalf didn’t even glance at it. He simply whipped up a whirlwind in the air and twisted the spear’s trajectory sideways.
“What the hell is that old bastard doing now?!”
Dana shouted as she rushed toward me, clearly trying to heal me. Her instinct to prioritize the injured and her husband in any situation was truly admirable, but injuries meant nothing in a dream anyway. I raised my hand to stop her from coming closer.
‘…He ignored the ridiculously eye-catching Adelaide and went straight for me with the first strike?’
So I was the target. Adelaide and Veronica had frozen solid like hamsters tossed in front of a cat. I couldn’t blame them. In this world where bloodline supremacy reigned supreme, their compatibility with that Gandalf was utterly disastrous. It was no different from ordering a rural lord to fight the king one-on-one.
“……A man can’t get hit first and then beg his wives for help. That’s just pathetic.”
My brain, which had been spinning at full speed ever since I dropped to one knee from that lightning combo, reached its conclusion.
‘I’ll fight alone.’
Even if I died in the dream, nothing serious would happen—but looking at the situation, I doubted it would end that cleanly. This was one hundred percent the arrangement of that one-eyed German god.
Whoosh—!
I consciously wove the image I wanted into the dream. Black holes opened beneath the feet of everyone except me. Just like when I woke up from a dream, they would be able to return to reality through those holes.
“──Huh?!”
“Hey, what the fuck?! Nord!”
They couldn’t resist the black holes sucking them in. My wives and Adelaide were expelled from my dream so that no mental aftereffects would remain. After all, the host of the dream had the right to kick out his guests, didn’t he?
“……That one’s the women’s hole. As a man, I’ll look for the manhole.”
I’d probably get an earful once I woke up, but this was a problem between me and that bastard. Even Gandalf was watching me send them away. I didn’t know how much consciousness or intelligence that thing had, but wanting a fair fight clearly aligned with the original purpose of both Gandalf and his creator.
I checked my mana reserves and let out a hollow laugh.
‘Holy shit. Half my mana gone in one shot?’
If this were me before I beat the crap out of Enlir, that first strike would’ve turned me into a well-done steak. I spat on the ground.
“That otherworldly Gandalf is ridiculously strong.”
Fucking stale old monster. Why the hell is he no-life grinding a low-level player? This is exactly why fighting games die. That crazy old man only swung a sword in the movies, but the moment he switched to mage class his damage output went completely insane. His spell feels stronger than the fake Mjolnir’s 100,000 volts, and it doesn’t even have a cast time. I can’t afford to let my guard down against this guy.
I activated Beast Regression and summoned my spear into my hand.
──Shuk!
As if that were the signal, heat surged up from beneath my feet. It felt like sleeping on an electric blanket turned to maximum—the temperature skyrocketed! But I didn’t dodge. My instincts told me it would be too late even if I tried.
I layered magic onto Beast Regression. The green mana coating blazed bright red. It was a full-body flame-type form change, Macho Zeus style.
Fwoooooosh—!!
The flames that erupted from the ground wrapped around me like a lizard’s tongue, but with Burning Hand’s fire resistance applied across my entire body, I barely felt any heat.
“Burning Fist!!”
I dodged out of the domain of flames and threw a punch. The ᛒ (Berkanan) mandala rose as fiery mana erupted forward. The old man struck the ground with his staff. It was the exact same ᛒ (Berkanan) mandala I used.
──Thud.
The material transformation of the transmutation spell turned the clouds into a wall. The heated clouds absorbed the flames.
I narrowed my eyes. Several strands of curiosity and reasoning swam chaotically through the sea of my neurons before finally crystallizing into a single conclusion.
“You son of a bitch… You were a professor.”
Right now, mana was pouring out of me in huge chunks. All I’d done was fire off a blazing gun, yet this much mana shouldn’t have disappeared. Well, maybe “huge chunks” was a bit of an exaggeration. For a technique of that caliber, the cost was actually quite efficient. Excellent cost-performance ratio.
“Who told you to use someone else’s mana for your spells, you bastard?”
From that single exchange of magic, I had already seen through the meaning of this dream space and the enemy’s true identity. Every time the old man cast a spell, my mana vanished. He was stealing my mana and using it as if it were his own.
And that wasn’t all. If I looked closely, he was only using spells I had learned. In other words, this old man was essentially my nightmare. A nightmare created by someone’s technique that had invaded my dream!
‘Is it the same principle as when I call forth the Flying Nimbus or a car?’
This was my dream. As long as my imagination could support it, I could do anything. But just as Veronica had once built a cabin in my dream, skilled mages could interfere with other people’s dreams. Someone had manipulated my dream and my mana to create this otherworldly Gandalf.
‘The one who installed this technique… was probably Odin.’
A fake Odin appearing in a dream. A fake Gandalf. But unlike the other dream objects, I couldn’t simply erase him. If I could get rid of anything I didn’t like, it wouldn’t be a nightmare, would it? That son of a bitch would most likely only disappear if I beat him to a pulp with mana. Nightmares aren’t cured from within the dream—they require external intervention like medicine or physical therapy.
‘So that’s why the initiative in this dream belongs to me.’
If he wanted to embezzle my mana, he had no choice but to leave the initiative with me. In that sense, I was something like a straw boss.
“I’m really sick of bastards who touch other people’s stuff.”
I clicked my tongue and broke into a run. Since that bastard was a being created within the dream, I probably couldn’t harm him with things I conjured inside the dream either. Even if I summoned a gun or a missile and opened fire, it would be like a kid charging at a debt collector with a Power Ranger sword. Role-playing only works if the other party plays along; otherwise it’s just pathetic behavior.
──Snap!
The old man flicked his fingers. A whirlwind enveloped me. Since I had resistance to heat, lightning, fire, and ice would be a waste of mana. He was trying to finish me off with the most efficient combination possible.
‘I expected that.’
I stomped on the cloud platform as if to shatter it and leaped sideways. I succeeded in dodging before the whirlwind could fully form. It was a speed I wouldn’t have been able to avoid if I hadn’t predicted it. Was this really a skill possible with my magic ability?
I noticed that the whirlwind was made of water vapor and clicked my tongue.
‘He’s similar to how I was when I fought Yerna.’
Combining existing techniques to create new magic! That was the most essential talent for the creation of spells. If that old man was a magical A.I. created by that one-eyed German goddess, he would naturally be capable of that much.
Our specs were the same, but I was overwhelmingly disadvantaged in both control and mana quantity. If that bastard sucked up all my mana and used it, I’d be left with an empty tank and nothing I could do! Drinking mana potions inside the dream wouldn’t restore the mana in my real body anyway.
‘Sending the wives away was the right call.’
If the old man had responded to their combined assault with magic, I would’ve passed out from mana exhaustion. Even if they managed to catch him, it would be meaningless if I fainted.
──Thud!
I burst through the floor and shot toward where the old man stood. I fired the Lightning Missile I had created while manipulating space to close the distance. The old man flicked his fingers, sending the electric current skyward. The difference in magical skill made me frown involuntarily.
‘This is too disadvantageous.’
We were using the same character, yet there was no comparison in technique. That alone was bad enough, but on top of that he was stealing and using my mana? In this situation, there was only one way to win.
To become a far superior technician than the opponent and crush him before he even had a chance to use mana. And the method to do that—
—was in my hands.
“Huu.”
I recalled what Adelaide had said. This was nothing but a dream. No matter what I did here, it wouldn’t affect reality. So there was no need to hesitate.
“Fuck, I don’t know if this will even work. It’s been way too long.”
Half-doubting, I raised my hand to my forehead. As if lowering the visor of a helmet, I closed one eye and poured fuel into the ancient divine mana accumulated within my body. An extraordinary rage took control of me, turning the mana of Beast Regression a murky, dark color.
──It works.
Just like back in the City of the Dead, I could use Odin’s wisdom.
“……You’re dead, you son of a bitch.”
Transformation. The moment I muttered those words and tried, for the first time, to willingly enter that berserk mode—
──Grab!
Someone suddenly seized my hand. My heart nearly dropped out of my chest. Only then did I realize just how tense I had been. But who the hell was grabbing my arm right now?
I steadied my startled heart and turned my head.
A hazy, pale shadow. Something blurry and indistinct was gripping my arm, preventing the transformation.
It was a being with an indescribably strange appearance, yet somehow familiar. In a voice filled with disbelief, I muttered.
“……Professor Slayer?”
Wait, what the fuck? Why the hell is hyung showing up here?