Chapter 95. Nightmare Time (2)
Chapter 95. Nightmare Time (2)
My mother was a witch.
A being reviled as profane and wicked throughout human lands.
But later, when I joined the organization and began investigating witches for myself, I learned that every last accusation was the product of filthy propaganda.
When plagues swept the continent, when disasters struck — if you could pin all of it on women accused of consorting with the demonic races, the mob's hysteria was easy enough to quell.
By now I knew the truth all too well: the Church and the politicians who sought to parasitize the reigning Arhen royal house and seize power for themselves had orchestrated the witch hunts to strengthen their own standing.
"Ahh~ Aaahnn~ ♥"
So why was the sacrificial lamb of that sordid political struggle standing before me now, rocking her hips?
The woman who, even when she realized the pursuers were nearly at the door, hid me in the wardrobe — and then, fearing they might search the room, played the whore right in front of them to draw every last eye onto herself.
Afterward, when nothing but a scattering of white ash remained where she had been — I witnessed that with my own eyes, confirmed it beyond any doubt.
"Hah, haaahh~ F-feels good. M-more~ pound me harder~ ♥"
Ah, right. This is nothing more than a dream.
There was never any chance she would appear before me again.
This is merely a fragment of a memory I wanted to forget, clawing its way back the moment I fell asleep...
"Dave~"
And yet even in such a nightmare, I had been granted a reunion with the person who loved me.
"Dave, my son. The child I love most in all the world~"
I heard her gentle whisper one more time.
I was given the chance to be held in that boundless embrace again.
I knew it was a lure. But I couldn't bring myself to resist its intensity — and the moment I took a step toward it.
"Come here, son. Mommy's going to..."
As if welcoming me, her smile deepened.
And those tender hands slowly reached lower down my body, gradually spreading that cleft open.
"Mommy's going to make you feel good."
As if to stimulate the thing contained within, to make it stand stiff and erect...
Ah, now that I think about it — that was the moment, wasn't it? The first time I truly became aware of my own filthy desires.
When I watched my mother being violated through the gap in the wardrobe door, I had understood nothing. I simply stared at the sight in a daze and spent that time giving myself over entirely to my impulses.
Forgetting even the fact that I must not be discovered.
Just fixating on the scene visible through the crack, gripping the thing that had risen for reasons I couldn't comprehend, and shaking it until they finally left...
"...Disgusting."
Yes. If that searing memory had truly held nothing but lust — then perhaps I might have accepted the hand gripping my length in this moment, and chosen to melt into whatever would follow.
A reality filled only with pain and fear would make unleashing my urges upon the one I loved seem like the easier escape.
"Who the hell do you think you're pretending to be with that filthy mouth of yours?"
But I was an adult now.
And the emotions that surfaced when I recalled those days were not merely desire.
The bitter resentment over why we had been forced into such a situation. The regret that I had committed such an act while my mother was the one being defiled.
And the helplessness of having no choice but to stand by and watch it all happen — the self-loathing of living with those memories while still failing to do anything about them...
All of that was blooming and sharpening in this very moment, as I relived that day.
"Wh-what... what are you?"
And my opponent had failed to read those emotions correctly.
She had simply dredged up her target's most intense first experience, projected its figure onto herself, and put on a half-convincing act.
"H-how?! How can you resist my power!?"
Fata Morgana.
One of that whore's closest lackeys — the one I so desperately wanted to kill — the bitch who had constantly lurked around trying to get close to me even back when I was stationed at headquarters.
But the woman before me now carried none of the smug composure she had back then.
"What's wrong? Not going to call me 'big brother' like you always do?"
Yes, she was starting to realize by now.
That the one caught in the trap wasn't me — it was her.
To be precise, I hadn't deliberately lured her in from the start. But whatever the case — isn't the knowledge that I can counterattack anyone who tries to suppress me enough?
"You goddamn short-lived brat!!"
The composure she had flaunted all along.
The dream demon's signature seductiveness — all of it drained away the moment that shriek erupted.
Along with the power that rippled out from her, the remnants of memory encircling her form began to crumble, and darkness descended upon the world.
As my mother's image draped over her body gradually faded away...
The faint ache I felt in some corner of my heart was unmistakably a pang of regret at watching that form disappear.
Because even if it was nothing but a counterfeit — that appearance alone had been projected from my own memories.
My mother.
I knew that the likeness of the mother I had loved was vanishing.
"...Seems a little late for resistance."
But even that regret was now being swallowed by the fury surging back up.
And this place, after all, was none other than my own psyche.
She had tried to dominate me by prodding at my desires — yet ironically, I too was someone capable of seizing control of a mind, even if I was no dream demon myself.
-Crash!
Yes. Everything that unfolds in this realm responds to my mental state.
If I had chosen to surrender my consciousness and lose myself in a blissful dream, that would be one thing. But if I knew it was a sham — and if, even knowing it was a sham, I refused to indulge the desire to drown in it — then my awareness would hold, and the emotions I carried could be converted directly into raw power.
"Ghk!"
And from there, everything that followed would proceed with cold rationality.
Because right now, I had Ymir's drug in my system.
Created using demonic power attuned to primal impulse as its base, the substance freed the human body from every stray thought that might interfere with mental concentration.
Even rage could be governed with ice-cold clarity, keeping nothing but its intensity to fuel spiritual force...
"Wh-what is... this. Why... h-how can a mere human...?"
Morgana, having entered my mind without knowing any of that, had effectively thrown her own body into the jaws of a beast fully capable of devouring her.
All of it was evident from the way the space itself was bearing down as though responding to my will.
"W-wait. Just wait!!"
Was it because she was utterly helpless against the phenomenon?
The woman who had until moments ago regarded me with nothing but contempt was now belatedly turning pale, her body trembling uncontrollably.
Showing a face she had never once revealed even to her liege, Garbonia — as if she had sensed the genuine peril of her own existence being extinguished.
"I-I was wrong! I-if you just spare my life, I'll swear loyalty to you for the rest of my days...!!"
-Rumble!
Ignoring that shriek, the sky pressed down even further.
Her knees, unable to bear the weight pressing upon them, slammed into the ground — and soon even her wretched screams began to fade from her lips.
Almost there.
Just a little more force and I could kill that loathsome dream demon bitch with my own hands.
"P-please..."
Morgana, as if sensing that end, began to beg me desperately.
I could tell the plea was genuine.
No matter how much the demonic races looked down on humans — in the end, they were creatures who lived for their own pride and their own survival.
Binding themselves to a human with a lifetime contract to escape an immediate crisis wasn't hard to find in the historical records.
But...
"What meaning does a long-lived race's oath of loyalty to a short-lived species hold?"
A human's entire lifetime — to them, it amounts to little more than a passing moment.
"Ah, n-no..."
-Crunch!
At last the collapsing darkness crushed her body and erased her existence from before my eyes completely.
The dream demon known as Fata Morgana — that was her end.
Dream demons might lack a physical form — but this world was built upon the mind. A dream demon constructed within it was, in itself, no different from the genuine article.
-Rumble!
As if to prove that assumption correct, cracks began to spider across every corner of the mental world that had taken shape through her power.
Among them, the place where light streamed through would surely be the exit from this realm.
Having grasped that, I exhaled deeply and readied myself to walk toward the light without hesitation.
"Are you leaving?"
My stride halted the instant a voice reached me from behind.
Even as the space continued to collapse around me, I couldn't ignore that voice — I stopped in place.
Wasn't that strange?
The creature who had been acting with that voice had already vanished without a trace.
"...Yes."
It might have been nothing but a hallucination — yet even so, I decided I would answer that voice.
"Just as you protected me."
But I didn't turn around.
I already knew looking back would mean nothing. And even without facing her directly, I knew what expression she would be wearing as she looked at me.
"I have people I want to protect now, too."
Wasn't she the one who whispered love to me even during her final ordeal?
So if it was her — she would surely see me off with exactly the face I pictured.
"...I see."
As if answering that faith, she gave a soft laugh — fufu — and continued her farewell in a gentle voice.
"I'm glad. That you've found people precious to you, just as I did."
A goodbye that might well be the last.
"...Go on now, Dave."
The moment I heard those words, the swell of emotion rising in my chest felt like added weight anchoring my feet to the ground.
Couldn't I just... stay like this? I couldn't shake the lingering attachment. What if I just stayed here forever?
Even if it was nothing more than a delusion — if I could see her clearly one last time, the woman I had accepted I would never see again, wouldn't that be enough? I couldn't wipe the thought from my mind.
"...Yes."
Even so.
Even so, in the end, I chose to leave her behind and move forward.
"I'll be going now."
Turning my back on the sweet dream of being with my old love.
"I'll be going now, Mother."
To protect what I must protect.
To press onward into reality.
***
...And then.
"Cough!"
The moment my consciousness snapped back, my airway burst open so violently I couldn't catch my breath.
The headache that slammed into me right after sent my head, which I had barely lifted, crashing back to the floor.
This was nothing like simply waking up. It felt as though something had been rammed into my skull and yanked out again, over and over.
"Ghhk, guhh!!"
Ah, yes. That would be because that dog of a dream demon, Morgana, had rummaged through my psyche like a maniac, so convinced she could dominate me.
Maybe I'd also overtaxed myself crushing her to death... but, that aside, something felt different from usual.
Had killing her caused some kind of change in my body?
"Lord Dave. Are you all right?"
In that moment, a shadow emerged abruptly from beside me — slipping out of the room's darkness was a woman clad in black garments and a black mask.
"...Katarina."
Yes — my ally, the one I had encountered before losing consciousness.
But her body was soaked dark with blood. Had she been wounded? No, more importantly — why was she here?
-Thud. Thud.
I had barely begun turning the situation over in my head when noise sounded from the room's exit, and Katarina, gauging my reaction, quietly offered a suggestion.
"I believe relocating would be advisable for now..."
"...Let's do that."
Yes — grasping the situation came first.
Steadying my ragged breathing, I made my exit alongside Katarina.
Acutely aware, even as I escaped into reality, that the night of nightmares that the dream demons had conjured was far from over.