Lord Of The Lost

William flinched as a sharp pain shot up his leg.

Looking down—

Sophia, wearing a black soft hat, was furiously punching his leg with her tiny fists.

"What the hell—?"

William scowled.

"Are we still in the God of Dreams' domain?"

Sophia huffed, crossing her arms.

"Yes. But this isn't the same place as before."

She looked around, unimpressed.

"Changhu Town was a shallow dream, a place where things were tangible, structured."

"This?" She gestured at the emptiness.

"This is a deep dream, an abstract space. A place of pure subconsciousness."

William's brow furrowed.

"And why are we here? You could've just left."

Sophia exploded.

"THAT'S WHAT I'M TRYING TO FIGURE OUT, YOU IDIOT!"

She shook him.

"WHY DID YOU DO SOMETHING SO STUPID?!"

William fell silent.

There was no point arguing.

She had clearly stayed behind to help him.

He sighed.

"I just… couldn't accept it."

Sophia scoffed, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Oh? You thought you could save them?"

She let out a bitter laugh.

"That's hilarious! You're just a bunch of low-tier transcendents trying to steal a god's relic."

"You should be grateful you even made it out alive."

Her voice lacked malice—

Just cold, brutal honesty.

She wasn't heartless.

But she wasn't about to weep over a group of strangers, either.

And now, because of William, she was trapped in this mess too.

William didn't bother arguing.

Instead, he asked the only question that mattered.

"What now?"

Sophia rolled her eyes.

"I have no idea."

Which meant she genuinely didn't know.

Sophia wasn't the type to hide critical information out of spite.

If she had an answer, she would've said it.

Which meant—

Even she was lost.

She tilted her head, muttering.

"My sister once said that the power that destroyed the God of Dreams is the same power that the Witch Clan has been fighting in the dark for generations."

William's expression hardened.

"The witches have an enemy?"

He had felt it before—

A deep, gnawing unease lurking within the void.

It wasn't immediate danger, not yet—

But it was there, like a predator waiting in the dark.

A lesser transcendent would have already succumbed to this silence.

A normal mind couldn't endure complete sensory deprivation for long—

They would go mad, their sanity unraveling like a frayed thread.

It was the same reason a person can't stay inside a soundproof room for days without losing their mind.

Yet, William felt fine.

The Demon Wolf's nature gave him an unnatural adaptability.

But then—

He noticed something.

Sophia, too, seemed unbothered.

But something had changed.

Her red hat—

Had turned black.

The Darkness That Consumes Witches

William's voice was low, his expression unreadable.

"You're talking about the power that can truly wipe out the Witch Clan?"

Sophia nodded.

The strongest witches had all perished in this darkness.

An adult witch was a Sequence 7 warrior, powerful enough to stand at the pinnacle of extraordinary beings.

But even they—

Had never returned.

On the bloody night when the werewolves slaughtered the witches,

The only survivor was Black Swan, a girl who had not yet reached adulthood.

"Is this darkness really that dangerous?" William asked.

Sophia scoffed, arms crossed.

"Are you stupid? Of course not. This is just the dream realm of the God of Dreams. It's nothing compared to the true darkness outside."

She tugged at her hat—

A hand-knitted relic, woven for her by the witches to shield her from forbidden powers.

It was meant to protect her during childhood, keeping her hidden from things that lurked in the dark.

William's eyes flickered toward the feather pen in his grip.

The one he had yanked from the body of the God of Dreams.

Not his fault, he was just desperate.

Grabbing at anything to survive.

And yet—

That lifeline had ended up pulling him down instead.

Ironically, the feather pen was the very thing they had come to find.

But when William tested it—

Nothing.

The legendary quill didn't work.

Sophia frowned.

"Is it because of the difference in regions and levels?"

She was confused.

The anchor pen of the dream world should have been fully functional—

Unlike the real-world version, which was incomplete and held by the Witch of the Wilds.

And yet—

Here, in the deep subconscious of the God of Dreams—

It was completely useless.

The hope of escape had been temporarily crushed.

Sophia shifted uneasily.

Something about this place felt wrong.

"Let's move forward," William said.

Sophia raised an eyebrow.

"Which way is forward?"

William grinned.

"Whichever way I'm facing."

Without hesitation, he strode into the void—

A world of endless nothing, where the only certainty was the two of them.

Sophia, arms still crossed, followed reluctantly.

"Are you even afraid of death?" she muttered.

William nodded.

"Of course I am."

Her steps slowed.

"Then why are you doing this? You could have just let them go."

William scratched his face, thinking.

"I could have."

"But we've been through too much together. They never let me down. They even helped me when they didn't have to."

"They were good companions."

"If I just left them behind now… it wouldn't sit right with me."

Sophia tilted her head.

"Oh? So it's a demonic oath? A curse of regret?"

William laughed.

"You could say that."

Sophia's expression darkened.

"But what if you actually die?"

William hesitated.

Then—

"Then I die."

His voice was light, casual.

"I won't have anything to say about it. After all, it's the path I chose."

Sophia stared at him, speechless.

William flashed a grin.

"But you, on the other hand, you followed me."

"I'll find a way to send you back."

Sophia kept her gaze locked on him for a long moment.

Then she sighed, shaking her head.

"Idiot."

Same as Little Bob—

A reckless fool with a death wish.

William said nothing more.

His reasons were simple.

Live with a clear conscience.

Do what felt right.

He had been born in the lower class, in a life where every choice was dictated by someone else.

Where he had been trapped, never truly free.

So now—

He would live his way.

Not for anyone else.

But for himself.

And if this was how it ended—

Then at least it would be his choice.

William and Sophia walked endlessly through the infinite dark expanse.

This place was unlike anything they had ever known—

A realm without boundaries, without time, without matter.

All dreams had shattered.

Everything that once existed had been washed away.

They had likely drifted too far downstream, into the ruins of the River of Fate—

The place where all futures had been destroyed.

---

A World Without Time or Space

William relied on his Demon Wolf instincts—

But even those had been stripped away.

He couldn't feel the flow of time.

He couldn't sense the shifts in space.

There was no gravity.

No ground.

No sky.

Were they walking forward?

Falling backward?

Drifting nowhere?

The uncertainty was suffocating.

But at least—

They had each other.

That alone kept them from losing themselves completely.

The darkness of the real world was filled with lethal horrors.

It had wiped out adult witches.

Even legendary beings had never returned.

William and Sophia, mere low-level transcendents, would have been devoured in seconds.

Thankfully, this was only a dream.

The lethal dangers were stripped away, leaving only the emptiness behind.

But William knew—

If they remained here too long, it wouldn't matter.

They would be trapped forever.

William wasn't afraid of being forgotten.

No one in the real world would mourn his absence.

At best, a few players might mention him once or twice.

But as time passed—

His ID and name would fade into nothing.

He wasn't even sure if he would survive long enough for that.

Even with the Demon Wolf's endurance, he still needed energy.

And here, in this void of nothingness, there was nothing to sustain him.

Sooner or later—

His body would wither.

His mind would break.

And he would die alone in the darkness.

But Sophia—

She had a purpose.

She had sacrificed everything to enter the maze and grow stronger.

She shouldn't be trapped here.

She deserved to escape.

No matter what—

William would find a way to send her out.

They walked for what felt like forever.

Then—

A light.

Faint.

Distant.

They rushed forward without hesitation, their footsteps quickening.

As they drew closer, the light revealed itself.

A desk. A chair.

Sitting there—

A man.

He looked ordinary, but something about him glowed—

As if his entire being had been dusted with stardust, faintly luminous against the black void.

William and Sophia stopped in their tracks, exchanging a wary glance.

Something about this felt wrong.

Not in a hostile way—

But unnatural, like an impossible scene had taken root where it should not exist.

Sophia's eyes narrowed.

"Who are you?"

Her voice carried caution, but not fear.

She was not the type to cower.

The man lifted his head, his calm gaze sweeping over them.

Then—

He raised his hand.

The quill at William's waist flew into his palm instantly.

William didn't resist.

He knew—

In front of this man, he and Sophia were nothing.

No low-tier transcendent should have lasted this long in the deep subconscious of the God of Dreams.

Even William and Sophia, special as they were, would eventually fade.

But this man—

He had been here for a very, very long time.

Long enough to never leave.

The man glanced at the quill in his hands, studying it with a detached familiarity.

Then, he spoke.

"I am the director of the troupe."

"You may also call me the God of Prophecy and Dreams."

He did not hide his identity.

He simply stated it—

As if it meant nothing at all.

But to William and Sophia—

His words were like a thunderclap.

The true God of Dreams—

Standing before them.

Even legendary witches had to bow before him.

Sophia—fierce, defiant, sharp-tongued Sophia—

Was stunned speechless.

For the first time in her life—

She had no words.

The Director's Quill