Eternal Nightmare
The moment the black vortex closed behind his back, what enveloped Jinwoo was neither triumph nor liberation.
It was the stench of despair, all too familiar and suffocating.
The musty odor wafting from moldy wallpaper, the damp and chilly air of a semi-basement room without a single window, the mingled reek of ramyeon crumbs and dust scattered across the floor. His kingdom. His prison.
He had returned to the heart of his wretched reality.
The overwhelming sensation of power that had just reduced the outer gods' abominations to dust now faded before this harsh reality.
He let out a hollow chuckle.
A great mage who had claimed the Magic Grimoire of conquest and domination, reduced to dwelling in a mold-infested hole for a measly 190,000 won monthly rent. There could be no greater comedy.
"First things first, I need a wash."
To cleanse the slime and blood from the Eternal Nightmare, along with the grime of his ashen reality, he headed to the cramped, filthy bathroom attached to the corner of the room.
Under the cold stream pouring from the rusted faucet, he replayed the recent events in his mind.
It hadn't been a dream. His body proved it.
The chronic back pain from a herniated disc that had tormented him for years was gone, as if by magic.
He bent and twisted his waist experimentally.
No pain whatsoever. Instead, he felt an alien yet potent surge of energy coursing through him.
He glanced at his reflection in the mirror.
The servile face of a young man hollowed by hunger and despair.
But his eyes had changed.
Darker than shadow, unyielding to anything—a cold, arrogant gaze of dominion. He stared at his new self for a moment, finished washing, and stepped out.
On his rickety old desk sat the Magic Grimoire, lying innocently as if it hadn't just fought alongside him in a desperate battle.
Crimson and amethyst runes pulsed faintly across its pitch-black leather cover. As he approached, the grimoire's voice echoed once more in his mind.
[Excellent first battle, my master.]
The grimoire continued.
[Thanks to the vermin you slaughtered, I've absorbed more than enough essence to replenish the power spent on your first display of authority. Their fear and despair made splendid nourishment.]
"I see," Jinwoo replied indifferently.
[Master.]
The grimoire's tone grew more serious.
[You loathe this space. As you should. It is far too cramped and squalid for a being like you. Allow me to propose a way to escape this miserable hovel.]
Jinwoo waited silently for what came next.
[If you wish, you can return to the 'Eternal Nightmare' every time you dream—not as helpless prey, but as the hunter.]
"Have you lost your mind? Why the hell would I go back to that infernal place?"
[There are several reasons.]
The grimoire began its systematic explanation.
[First, lost souls like you wander there. If you save them and guide them back to reality, it imprints your existence deeply on their souls. Not direct 'conquest' or 'domination,' but their awe and gratitude generate positive energy through your reputation as a 'savior,' even under an alias. This stabilizes my power and lubricates your core edict of conquest and domination. You'll also savor the thrill of omnipotence.]
[Second, the nightmare realm overflows with the outer gods' unconscious manifestations—treasures beyond your world's logic. Not just gold and jewels, but artifacts infused with mana: 'magic items' that will amplify your power.]
[Finally, culling its denizens periodically warns my kin: 'This is my hunting ground—stay away.' It also hones your mastery of my power through combat.]
The grimoire paused, then added a weightier proposal.
[Above all, expanding 'your own space' is essential for any dominator. You need not be bound by this cramped world's physics. With my knowledge, you can create an isolated sub-dimension, severed from reality.]
"A sub-dimension?"
[Indeed.]
Pride laced the grimoire's voice.
[You can build your own 'Magic Workshop' there. Using monster corpses and mana-infused relics from nightmares as materials, craft items impossible in reality—cursed but immensely useful. Talismans to bend minds, elixirs to fortify flesh, rituals to birth minions of absolute obedience.]
[More than that, your sub-dimension becomes your kingdom. Install 'summoning gates,' and teleport anywhere on Earth—or conquered realms. Open a door from this hovel to a Paris luxury suite. As your dominion grows, so do your gates.]
It was an offer impossible to refuse.
An escape from wretched reality, a path to power, wealth, fame—and a perfect stage for his desires.
"Understood."
Jinwoo nodded.
"Starting tonight, the hunt begins."
He stood once more before the cracked bathroom mirror.
Wet hair, sharpened gaze, threadbare T-shirt. The dissonance of overwhelming power and pathetic reality.
Suddenly, he recalled a tattered British fantasy novel he'd secretly read in the orphanage corner as a child.
The wizards there all wore pointed hats and carried staves.
"...Guess I should get a wizard hat at least. A staff too."
He snorted with laughter.
But it was no longer idle fantasy.
Now, he held the power to create anything with his own hands.
He addressed the partner on his desk, silently eavesdropping on his thoughts. A childish glee, like a boy with a new toy, laced his tone.
"Hey, book. What do you think? In the stories I read as a kid, every wizard had a 'familiar'—a servant beast. Shouldn't I get an owl or a cat? A black one would suit this fine interior perfectly."
The grimoire didn't respond immediately to his jest.
A cold silence pressed on his mind, as if offended.
At last, its voice rang sharper and more arrogant than before.
[A familiar...?]
Raw contempt dripped from the grimoire's voice.
[Do you mean those beasts of flesh and bone, plagued by disease, excretion, and woefully limited intellect? My master, you possess me—the nexus of cosmic knowledge, gateway to infinite authority. And you speak of needing some mewling creature? Such notions insult me.]
Amused by the grimoire's reaction, Jinwoo felt a strange thrill—the first time he'd held the upper hand over this transcendent entity.
Subtle jealousy.
Sensing his shift, the grimoire changed the subject.
[That 'story' you mentioned... What is 'Harry Potter'? Another grimoire unknown to me? Or a forgotten god's name?]
The grimoire seemed ignorant of human "novels."
Jinwoo paused, recalling orphanage days—the pang of closing that worn book's final page, the emptiness.
And now, wielding greater power than its hero.
A peculiar sensation.
"Nah, just a story. A novel for kids, with wizards and such."
He grinned.
"Someday... when I've got real money, I'll buy the full set from a bookstore. Or better, show you the movies. An old fogey like you would take ages to read."
To his light mockery, the grimoire fell silent again.
Perhaps grappling with "movies," or simply sulking.
Ignoring it, Jinwoo turned to scheming his first hunt as conqueror, opening the inaugural chapter of his new life.