I Guard The Book That Slays Gods

Raiden recognized something familiar in the darkness that consumed his vision. Words were unnecessary—they shared an understanding that transcended speech. The shadows bent to his will before he even formed the thought to command them.

Every step melted into the shadows instead of meeting the earth, the darkness catching and propelling him forward. Through his headache, he smiled—his body felt weightless, moving twice as fast as his mana usually allowed, each stride utterly silent.

Yet his supernatural pace proved futile. Hours passed as he combed through the desolate landscape, the storm clouds perpetually crackling with lightning, the moon suspended in the exact same position as when he'd first arrived. Nothing else lived in this place; only he, Ash, and the Lost Child.

He paused across multiple expanses of barren terrain, eyes sweeping every angle of the desolate landscape as he systematically covered all directions. Still, fortune eluded him.

It wasn't long before his hands found his knees for support, breath coming in ragged gasps as exhaustion claimed him, his body finally succumbing to the pain of his desperate search.

Doubt crept in as his head whipped frantically from side to side, second-guessing everything around him. What if his desperate search was exactly what the Lost Child wanted from him? Was he still in control of his own thoughts?

By his reckoning, he had been everywhere. How vast this realm truly was remained unknown to him, but he felt certain he had searched every corner of it.

He stood upright, fingers moving through what should have been fluffy white hair, yet found nothing solid to grasp. His entire white mane seemed like nothing more than an illusion, a phantom feature of his moon dragon form.

The frustration mounted as he clawed at his face, spitting curses at his phantom hair. His mind had gone blank—he desperately needed something real to anchor himself to.

But it didn't take long for him to realize he needed to collect himself and examine everything with logic.

"This is his world. I might be seeing what he wants me to see," he whispered to himself, then closed his eyes and drew in a slow, steadying breath to calm his frayed nerves.

With his eyes shut tight, he allowed himself to hope that perhaps, against all odds, when he opened them, everything would somehow be back to normal.

He braced himself and opened his eyes, but disappointment struck immediately as his gaze dropped reluctantly to the ground. Still, he refused to let it drag him down and began reasoning through the situation at once.

The Lost Child had claimed his comrades were still around, and he'd have no logical reason to lie about that in these circumstances. Maybe he could simply rewind time and begin the whole manipulation process anew.

Raiden's eyes narrowed as the conclusion became clear: the Lost Child was utterly confident in his own power.

The Lost Child was confident Raiden would either succumb to madness or fall victim to his schemes. This understanding made Raiden face the mansion, fingers thoughtfully stroking his chin as he weighed his options.

The area where he'd struggled most to explore was close to the mansion. Given the Lost Child's overconfidence in his abilities, it made sense that most of his illusions would be concentrated around the mansion itself.

"He thinks no one can endure this loop without losing their sanity," Raiden said with a smirk, his eyes sparkling. "Well, this is it. Time to break free from the loop."

Feeling his body grow lighter, he cracked his knuckles with purpose. The exact nature of the loop remained unclear to him, but he distinctly recalled that maddening sensation of making no progress toward the mansion, no matter how swiftly he moved.

Still, there was only one way to find out. He had to face it and discover the truth for himself.

Wasting no more time, he broke into a run toward the mansion. With each stride, the surrounding darkness caught and slingshot him forward like a living catapult.

He forced his way through the cold wind, gaze unwavering on the distant mansion. Each stride came faster than the last as he sought to break the loop's hold through relentless speed.

The logic seemed sound at first: move faster than the illusion could respond. But everything fell apart the instant he blinked.

Darkness flickered across his features as irritation consumed him. Refusing to accept he was fast enough, he drove his body beyond its limits and finally gave voice to his commands over the shadows.

He desperately tried to keep his eyes open, but the brutal speed sent cold air rushing past his face, relentlessly drying his eyes until blinking became unavoidable.

But every blink sent the mansion retreating deeper into the horizon. The maddening pattern repeated endlessly for hours before he finally gave up and crumpled to the ground in complete exhaustion.

He lay panting on the dusty ground, each breath coming in heavy, labored chunks. His gaze drifted aimlessly across the barren earth as the urge to surrender began creeping in.

He repositioned himself on the ground, rolling onto his back to face the turbulent sky above as his body went slack.

"God, I wish this was just a stupid-ass dream," he whispered, gazing up at the starless expanse dominated by thunderous clouds.

Then his eyes flew wide as he scrambled to his feet. "How could I have missed it? It's all a dream," he whispered with growing excitement, his eyes scanning erratically in all directions.

As he pieced together everything he'd witnessed, the truth became clear: Dark Dream wasn't just a name—it was exactly what this place was, a literal dark dream.

He couldn't run with the freedom he desired, just as happens in typical dreams. The familiar frustration of sprinting at full effort while staying perfectly still was one of dreams' most common torments.

Yet his face fell as the darker possibility crept into his mind. What if this wasn't simply a dream?

"No, it can't be," he muttered, though doubt flickered in his voice.

The Lost Child had specifically targeted his desires to manipulate him. This twisted dreamscape could only function by turning his own wants into weapons against him.

He smirked as he looked back toward the mansion with new understanding. The reason he could never reach it was painfully simple: because that's what he wanted most.

"What if I run with my eyes closed?" Raiden started stretching, realizing there was only one way to find out if his theory was correct.

Eyes shut, he placed his trust entirely in the darkness to navigate him through his own psychological shadows. He braced himself and broke into a run. It was all just a lucid dream brought to life.

His footsteps drummed against the ground, gaining speed with every moment. Sightless yet guided, he knew precisely where to step.

Minutes passed before he felt his body penetrating some kind of dense, foggy barrier. The temptation to open his eyes grew stronger and stronger, but he persevered until he broke through completely, filling him with an airy sense of liberation.

A smile of relief touched his lips, but without warning, something collided with his forehead, driving him hard into the ground.