Dreaming Big, I See

The moment I laid eyes on Karabus's hammer again, I'd already made up my mind.

'I need to check.'

The Void Space, tethered to my soul.

It was a place where fragments of the consciousness of countless monsters I'd sealed over the years gradually pooled together — a space that came into being as a sort of consideration that wasn't really consideration at all.

'It'd be boring for them to sit alone, wouldn't it?'

Only one monster could be sealed within any given weapon, which meant the only person they ever got to talk to was me — and I didn't exactly swing those weapons around every day.

Setting aside the hammer and spear, I might use the others once a month, maybe.

So those monsters would stir to life for a brief moment, then drift back to sleepless idleness, eyes wide open, bored out of their minds.

That was why I'd built this place — a communal space where they could at least chat with one another. And yet...

Right now there was no conceivable way to open it, and with every sealed weapon gone from the world, the space had been forgotten in the far reaches of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my memory.

But discovering Karabus had made one thing certain: that place and Deoen were either the same world, or bound to each other by some tight, intimate connection.

'The weapons themselves are all gone, sure. But if the space still exists...'

Then at the very least, that guy should still be in there.

The Emperor who led tens of thousands of sand soldiers and brought the entire desert to heel — Pharaoh.

For an ancient monster, he'd maintained a surprisingly close relationship with humans. With his enormous golden frame and his overwhelming host, he was known as the Emperor of the Sands.

His disposition was hardly any different from the other ancient monsters who regarded humans and most species alike as lower lifeforms. But at least he never invaded human lands over something as petty as 'just because,''in a fit of rage,' the way the other monsters did.

I remember passing through his domain a few times myself, and even stopping to talk with him.

The impression I got back then: 'decent enough fellow.'

He did siphon an obscene amount of trade tariffs and tolls from the caravans crossing the desert between kingdoms, mind you — but by monster standards, that practically made him a saint.

The reason he changed was simple.

He lost nine-tenths of his territory to the demonkin.

Stripped of his golden mask — the very symbol of who he was — he had no choice but to flee into the colossal stone statue he'd cherished, and hide.

In a single stroke, the Emperor who had subdued an entire desert was reduced to a mere stone golem.

The ones responsible were the greater demonkin. And they hadn't even attacked him, technically.

They were simply building a vacation villa in the desert, and there was this inconvenient thing in the way, so they cleared it. The way you'd level ground before laying the foundation of a house.

Having lost everything, he longed to reclaim his glory, and turned his gaze away from the desert toward other lands.

And that was when...

"You stood in my way. When I sought to reclaim my glory!"

"It couldn't be helped. To the Celestials and the demonkin alike, every other race is nothing but a pebble on the road."

Pharaoh was willing to slaughter humans and seize their territory to get his glory back — and I blocked him at every turn, until at last I sealed him away.

That was the first time I ever created this meeting hall of ours.

The first case of a sealing performed not within a weapon, but in the Void Space itself.

Which was why, even after thousands of years, Pharaoh could still remain inside this space.

Thud-thud-thud.

"Thousands of years have passed. I have no way of knowing the state of the world ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠beyond, but seeing you scurry about freely in that body of yours, I take it the war has ended."

The time to reclaim my glory is at hand!

Behind Pharaoh's undulating waves, sand soldiers began to rise.

One became two. Two became a thousand.

A thousand became...

"You haven't spent those thousands of years idling, I see."

"Ha! Did you truly believe I whiled away the eons waiting for you and you alone?"

An endless golden army stood up behind him, weapons in hand — a host far greater than the tens of thousands he'd once commanded.

An army truly befitting the majesty of an Emperor.

Pharaoh raised his long golden blade and donned a golden mask carved from stone.

It was a mere replica, but one thing was certain: in his current state, the gap in power was beyond hopeless.

"I once thought it impossible. To defeat you, I would have to grow stronger — but with every passing year, you would grow stronger still."

Shrrring.

"But then a twist of fate. You have weakened, and I have grown mightier than I was then. Even should those demonkin return, they will be of no concern!"

".....Hm."

"Suppress him!"

The golden blade pointed my way, and countless soldiers surged toward me all at once.

Each and every one of them was on par with a top-thousand-ranked player.

And there were over a hundred thousand of them.

I reached out my hand.

The pristine white hammer settled into my grip.

Pharaoh's eyes behind the mask went wide enough to split.

So he'd finally remembered something he'd forgotten. But it was far too late.

"Wai—"

Thwack.

Everything came crashing down.

This was no physical reality — it was an imaginary realm formed from the gathered consciousness of countless minds.

Since everything here moved by the unconscious, will and mental fortitude mattered far more than external strength. And this place, after all, had been built on the foundation of my own soul.

'Weak body or not, there's no losing to anyone in here.'

I swung the hammer a few crisp times, then leaned on it against my shoulder.

That satisfying feel of weight in the hand.

"...Dammit all."

"I suspect thousands of years dulled your memory. I do recall telling you that to defeat me here, you'd have to win on willpower alone."

Tap, tap. I hopped up and perched on top of Pharaoh's massive stone statue, poking at his shoulder.

Beneath the shattered mask, his face twisted once more.

"Did you honestly believe power acquired in this place could carry beyond me — out into the world itself?"

"...It's been thousands of years. Thousands! Of course it would wor—"

"Well, it's not entirely impossible. Growth of the soul does influence the body, after all."

Snickerr.

I hopped down from the statue.

"But that's only when you have a body, Pharaoh. Yours, at the moment, does not exist."

His original body had died at the demonkin's hands, and the stone statue he'd hastily fled into had been broken once more — by me.

The Celestials were gone, the demonkin were gone. Was there any body left in this world that could house Pharaoh's soul?

He stared at me for a long moment.

"Dreaming big, aren't we."

"...You housed me once before. Surely you could manage it a second time."

"No — these days, I couldn't even hold a single fragment of you."

Back in the day, maybe. But Pharaoh, now far stronger than he'd been in his golden age, was without question mightier than a world boss — just as Yena had put it.

Raizaka, the last opponent I'd fought at full strength, was little more than a mudpuppy next to him.

"......Just how weak have I become?"

"Quite a lot. As of now, you couldn't beat even a lesser Celestial. Ah — you might manage to cut down a three-year-old, though?"

"And that doesn't strike you as unjust? You've lost most of the power you once had."

"...Never thought I'd hear those words from you, of all people."

I suppose living long enough changes the way a person thinks.

I shook my head with a bitter smile.

"To us, 'injustice' is a meaningless emotion. So long as the Celestials and the demonkin draw breath."

"...I see."

Pharaoh nodded as if conceding the point — then abruptly seemed to find the arrangement unfair, and lifted ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his head.

"...Come to think of it, 'us' is a rather strange way to put it, given our relationship, no?"

"Shall I start calling us master and slave, then?"

"......"

Sealing a being beyond a certain threshold of power required two things.

The first was a highly advanced magical formula, along with the raw material — mana — needed to manifest it.

The other was an apparatus sturdy enough to contain the whole thing.

At my current level, forget trapping the Shadow Spirit — even implementing the basic framework of a sealing formula was a struggle.

So I decided to take the divine authority Blue-Ring had left behind with Yena, and the inscriptions of the sealing shamans' rites, and jury-rig something workable out of them.

The method was simple.

I drove my spear in and absorbed the divine authority.

Then I drove it into the pillar of light — the foundation of the shamanic rites — and absorbed the wellspring of sealing itself.

Finally, rather than offering up a sacrifice, I burned the divine authority as fuel, unfurled the sealing rite, planted the spear into the beastman's heart, and locked it shut.

By the end of it, the Shadow Spirit — which had been clawing its way free — was bound inside my Void Space without even managing to resist.

Granted, it was a stopgap at best, and with no true divinity behind it, the binding could unravel at any moment...

'Even if it throws a tantrum, so what?'

Pharaoh, who had grown vastly stronger than before, was already living ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠there.

The thing could crawl out all it liked — it wouldn't punch through a single soldier before getting pinned down on its knees.

I planted the spear in the ground with one hand and stretched until my spine crackled.

"Haaaahh...! That's the stuff."

Loosening my arms properly for the first time in a while left me in a great mood. That feeling of one hammer blow erasing everything in its path.

'This is why I use the hammer.'

I turned my head.

There was Blen, kneeling outright, and the raccoon beastman running his paws over a chest so unmarked it made me wonder whether he'd ever been skewered by my spear at all.

I gave his cheek a little stroke, and his whole body flinched.

"So this child was a root as well."

Just as Blue-Ring's power had gathered until it birthed a will of its own, this beastman too had been a root conjured from the forest's darkness.

The reason the darkness had chosen to wear a beastman's shape was simple.

'Of all living things, a beastman draws the least suspicion. Easiest to move around unnoticed.'

The innocent nature, the childlike appearance — all of it was a mask crafted by the Shadow Spirit.

That false body was supposed to vanish the moment the darkness fully revealed itself...

But the opposite had happened. When the darkness was instead obliterated, the fake was left behind like an empty shell.

"I had a dream... a bad dream. A very bad one..."

"It wasn't a dream."

"...What?"

"So remember this. Something tells me we'll be meeting again."