Lord Of The Lost

A bird-like being floated above, radiating an immeasurable, divine presence.

The very void trembled, rippling under the sheer force of His existence.

Every feather shimmered with a brilliance so dazzling, so ethereal, it felt like witnessing the birth of a miracle.

Light poured out in every direction, erasing the darkness, consuming all obstacles until there was nothing left but blinding white.

A god had returned—

And the battle against the darkness had begun.

The gods' struggle unfolded on a plane too high to perceive.

To mortals, to even the most powerful of extraordinary beings, this war was beyond detection.

But one thing was clear—

The return of the [Anchoring Pen] had bought the God of Dreams a temporary escape from death.

His form was now as it once had been, alive, untouched by decay.

But even now, merely witnessing Him made reality bend.

A god existing where He should not be.

His eyes remained closed, but His beak opened—

And from within, bubbles poured forth.

Not just bubbles, but miniature stages—

Countless realities born from His dreams, swirling together in an unstoppable force.

Below Him, an illusory river stretched beyond comprehension.

A river that was not water, but a reflection of infinite futures.

Like rapids rushing forward, the bubbles surged toward the darkness, attempting to push it back.

But—

It failed.

The river of future possibilities met the darkness—

And vanished.

Not a ripple.

Not a splash.

Swallowed whole.

William's stomach twisted.

Even though the God of Dreams had stabilized reality, the darkness had not disappeared.

For all His foresight, all His arrangements, all His backup plans—

He could not escape His fate.

Because if He truly had a way to fight back,

He would not have died in the first place.

For William, the God of Dreams had died in the past.

But for the residents of Changhu Town and the Dream Kingdom,

He was destined to die in the future.

The Playwright understood this too.

The dreams of the God of Dreams always revealed the end of all things.

To enter His realm was to blur the line between dreams and reality—

To see one's own inevitable fate.

The future would become the present.

The present would become the future.

And now—

Their future had fallen into the darkness.

The Playwright's voice was heavy.

"We've lost our future."

Not in the way one loses a war.

Not in the way one faces a tragedy.

But in the way a stage curtain falls,

In the way a story ends without meaning.

No conflict.

No climax.

No tragedy.

No resolution.

Just emptiness.

And that—

Was something the God of Dreams had tried to prevent.

For Him, the only way to fight back was to live in the past.

Crack.

The space of Changhu Town shattered.

The loose-leaf plays, the very foundations of the stage, began to disintegrate.

This was a world built on memory.

A place that had only existed in the past.

And now—

It could no longer bear the pull of opposing forces.

The battle of light and darkness was tearing it apart.

Another violent tremor ripped through space.

The bubble of this dream was about to burst.

The darkness did not retreat.

It did not charge forward in a frenzy.

Instead, it spread—

Slowly.

Steadily.

Because it knew.

Changhu Town was never real.

It was never meant to last.

It was merely a short dream,

And all dreams must end.

The Playwright stood frozen, staring into the abyss.

For the first time, she looked lost.

For the first time, she had no lines to follow.

Then—

A deep breath.

She lifted her gaze to the God of Dreams, who still floated in the air.

Her voice, soft but steady—

"It's time to wake up."

"This dream is over."

"It's time to leave—and move on to the next one."

The God of Dreams—

Opened His eyes.

William felt his entire body freeze.

Those eyes were not human.

They were not divine.

They were the eyes of a sleepwalker, unfocused, distant—

Like someone who had been lost in a dream for too long.

Then—

His wings moved.

Slowly, at first.

Then faster.

William felt it.

"This is it."

"The dream is ending."

His instincts screamed—

He could escape.

He had the power of the Demon Wolf, the ability to slip away before the collapse.

But—

What about the Forum Master?

What about the others?

Would they vanish with the dream?

Would they be erased from existence?

William had no answers.

He only knew one thing—

The curtain was falling.

A Desperate Grip

"Don't—!"

William's hand moved instinctively, fingers grasping the longest, whitest feather of the God of Dreams.

The moment his fingers closed around it—

A force yanked him upward, as if gravity had reversed.

He was floating, rising toward the sky—

Until something grabbed his legs.

Before he even looked down, a childish voice rang out—

"Let go! You're going to kill yourself!"

Sophia.

She had rushed forward, arms wrapped around his legs, trying to pull him back.

William's first instinct was to release the feather—

But his hand refused to obey.

It was as if his fingers had been glued in place.

A mysterious force wrapped around them, binding him and Sophia together.

Neither of them could move.

Neither of them could escape.

And then—

Like two fish caught on the same hook, they were pulled upward together.

---

The Dream Collapses

Changhu Town blurred—

Flickering like a dying hologram, its edges warping and fraying.

The God of Dreams spread His pure white wings and soared higher, carrying William and Sophia with Him.

And as they ascended, the world below unraveled.

William looked down—

And for the first time, he saw the truth.

Changhu Town was nothing but a miniature stage.

Everything, the people, the buildings, the sky itself, was just an illusion.

What shocked him more was that, because he held the feather,

He could see the threads of fate woven throughout the town.

These were the lives of its people, the destinies they were meant to have.

And yet—

Behind the Playwright, her thread of fate was fading—

Unraveling into nothingness.

She stood at the Scarlet Theatre, gazing upward, watching the white bird ascend—

Watching as the dark tide rushed in like an unstoppable flood.

It consumed everything, swallowing the town whole.

Then—

William felt something shift.

A barrier broke.

Changhu Town became a floating bubble, a scene from a distant memory, playing like a drama trapped inside a glass sphere.

Inside, the Scarlet Troupe was performing their final play.

A tragic masterpiece, frozen in time.

Then—

A single drop of darkness bled into the bubble.

Like ink spreading in clear water, it tainted everything.

And then—

Pop.

The bubble shattered.

Not even a trace remained.

William's chest tightened.

Were the Forum Master, Metatron, and the others—

Gone?

Had they vanished along with the dream?

There was no time to think.

Because the next horror was already unfolding.

---

The Polluted River of Dreams

As the God of Dreams continued to ascend, William's vision expanded.

And then—

He saw it.

A river made of countless dream bubbles, flowing endlessly through an unimaginable expanse.

Each bubble was a world, a story, a piece of reality that had once existed.

But something was wrong.

The river was dying.

A massive, black wall loomed in the distance, consuming the downstream flow.

A contamination spreading upward, corrupting everything in its path.

It was as if the universe itself was being extinguished.

One by one, the bubbles burst, their light snuffed out.

Like stars blinking out of existence,

Like the end of creation itself.

The God of Dreams soared forward, searching—

Searching for the last remaining stars in a fading night sky.

And then—

A feeling of dread swept over William.

Something was coming.

From the depths of the darkness, something rose.

A wave—

But not of water.

A black tide, an ocean of nothingness, rising higher and higher.

It surged toward them, vast and unstoppable, a force that sought to swallow the last light in existence.

William's pulse pounded in his ears.

The God of Dreams kept flying—

But He did not seem to notice the doom approaching from below.

William opened his mouth—

"Hey! Watch out!"

But before he could even finish—

The wave hit.

And all he could do was scream—

"NIMA!"

Lost in the Depths of a Dying Dream

William's vision went black.

A crushing pressure wrapped around him, suffocating, unrelenting—

Like being caught in a storm at sea, tossed between towering waves that could pulverize him at any moment.

Yet—

The God of Dreams moved through the chaos like an unstoppable swordfish, slicing through the abyss, fighting to break free from this dark world.

William didn't know how long they struggled.

At some point, he felt the pressure ease, as if they had emerged from the deep ocean, gasping for air—

Only for another wave of darkness to crash down.

William clung tightly to the feather.

Even though the God of Dreams absorbed most of the impact, the remaining pressure was still enough to crush lesser beings.

Then—

Snap.

The force disappeared.

Like a kite with a snapped string, William and Sophia plummeted.

Straight into the void.

They floated.

Sinking.

Falling.

Then—

Nothing.

An eerie silence swallowed them whole.

There was no direction.

No gravity.

No sound.

Just pure, suffocating darkness—

A void so deep it felt like the vacuum of space.