Years flew by, and bit by bit the City of Dreams turned into something so much more.
The streets became clean, joy became more common than food. The city metamorphized into something grander.
Everyone seemed to be on a happy drug. There was no crime, no sadness, not even difficulties of any degree.
It was peaceful and tranquil. Nothing ever went bad.
Maybe only those who went into the abyss to hunt weren't as affected, but even they were happy day in and out.
Cain's old hunting party, Rex, Arlen, Vera, Dalax, Cessair, and Evette have long forgotten about Cain. Only Evette and Cessair still hunted, the rest went on to do other things.
Rex became a teacher, and Arlen would help Rex in this endeavor.
Dalax became a Warden and plied his trade in creating technology fused with reality to create devices that never failed. The 6 armed creature made a killing.
Only Vera was unaccounted for, some Dream Folk would change shape and form every few years. It was hard to tell the difference between one or the other.
But she was most definitely doing well, this was the Land of Hope after all!
Perhaps only Marko was unaffected, to be more accurate, he ended up being taken away by Zeki and was locked away.
Cain didn't know, of course, he actually didn't know a lot. This was probably the only reason Zeki tolerated him at this point in time.
He was more of a dog, a dog with one purpose which fulfill his Lord's plans.
The problem was when such a dog escaped his leash. It was just like now, Zeki finding Cain in his office once again.
He had found out about all the murders, murders that didn't involve criminals, but the innocent.
"Cain! What are these reports? You filed them yourself?!"
These days, Cain was more hollow than anything. He was a Dream Master but all his energy was being emptied into Hope, his creation.
Without it, the land wouldn't be like it was, but the side effect was a cost many would say was too high.
Cain found his days drained like a raisin, his thoughts empty and his movements simple. Even now Zeki was only yelling in anger, he long knew from the word of his Lord that Cain was nothing more than an empty shell.
A price he paid willing, a great escape from the guilt increasingly sending him into despair.
Staring at the shell, Zeki waited a few moments. Even so, it didn't respond.
"Hah, I see why my Lord only gave these to me now. He knew you were doing this and allowed it. I would've killed you back then, but now there's no point."
Zeki looked directly into Cain's eyes, he seemed to be trying to find something, but in the end, he found nothing.
"I guess you were right, all of those deaths did do something good. You proved you're point, you proved it....
"You can go now."
Cain continued to stare, only after around 10 seconds did his body move and he slowly walked out of the office.
Zeki sat back in his chair, 'Lord....although we are living in peace, this feels more like a curtain. A curtain hiding things behind it...'
The clown spun a dreidel and watched it spin.
'Are we really going to continue like this into obscurity, living day by day in bliss? Isn't there a limit to how far one should go, I am starting to believe this City is worse than it started. Individuality is dying, imagination is being swept under the carpet....I.....I....'
The clown slammed his fist into his desk. Unlike usual, no weird or wacky effect occurred.
'I suppose this place really is becoming a Dream. One big endless and constant Dream.'
Zeki made sure to control his emotions, if he let the hope in his heart extinguish, Cain would notice. Even if he was no more than a puppet, there was a task group created under him for situations like this.
Acting no more than zombies the group would hunt those without Hope. By now, Cain's hope reached the entire city, it could sense everyone and everything.
Cain's Hope was like a creature ruling with an iron fist, and all it asked was to keep taking its drug, to get lost in hope and peace.
...
Somewhere deep underground, near the edges of the city.
A complex spanning almost a tenth of the city was holding millions of people. Unlike above, they seemed hardened and serious.
'Haha, who knew they would play into our hands so well! We ended up recruiting so many because of the changes that selfish brat brought about!'
Leon sat before an altar. He could no longer stand due to his affliction but he was at least alive.
He was looking over a few yearly reports.
Thanks to the actions of Cain and the Dream Lord, the Blood Cult thrived.
Millions joined, caring or not for its practices. Originally a 'resistance' group found itself joining hands with the cult. They tried taking advantage of the underground structure, even planning a coup.
Unfortunately, they walked into the jaws of a beast. As time went on their core members were brainwashed.
As the years went by everyone taking sanctuary in this place became believers in the same religion. The irony was funny, but not important.
Growing in strength, the Blood Cult was ready for the takeover.
Only, there was one problem. The existence of Hope.
Anyone who left the structure would conform to Hope and become a mindless happy resident.
This led to even more time being taken to create clothing and accessories that blocked Hope out and allowed rationality to remain.
Using Graystone as a base, and many months of research, effective products were being made.
All that was left was stockpiling these creations to outfit all the believers.
"Lord Leon, we already have over ten thousand rings and wristbands. All of them are tested and ready to be used."
Leon didn't move, continuing to stare at the alter, "Do you plan to commence those missions?"
The hooded knight kneeled, "Yes, we've run into an underground complex we believe to be a prison sealed off from even the subconscious. We believe this is where the Dream Lord's lackeys have been taking criminals after his Inquisitor went out of commission. However, the prison could be older."
"Good, if we can get such dangerous people to cause even more chaos, that would be the best.
"How do you plan to carry it out?"
Leon gazed back, causing the knight to lower their head.
"We have 10 teams sir. 6 will be distractions and 4 will extract the prisoners. I trained one of the team's captains myself, he really hates the Dream Lord and especially his Inquisitor."
Leon's eyebrow raised, "Oh? The runt whose parents were killed. Is he a pious believer now?"
"Um...no. He still views the cult as a tool. But he's not blasphemous either, simply undecided. Right now he is a Warden and one I trained exclusively."
"Well let's hope he does well." Leon let out a chuckle.
The hooded knight promptly left, letting Leon continue his prayers.
...
"Remember, our job is extraction. We have to find high-level prisoners and help them escape. If they're rowdy we'll have to explain the situation up top. Make sure you DO NOT give them any of our artifacts blocking out Hope's influence"
The team yelled out in unison, "Yes Sir!"
Derek smiled, he really liked how disciplined everyone in the cult was.
'With this, we'll be one step closer to freeing everyone and killing that tyrant and his inquisitor dog!'
Scenes popped up in Derek's mind, images of his mother and father. Over the years he would repeatedly remind himself what he was fighting for.
'Although these guys worship some weird god, they're alright people. They just want to escape this place like me.'
Living with these people for years on end, Derek felt like he found a home. He had friends he could count on, a circle he could trust.
He even had a master who was one of the 70 knights under the high priest!
Derek then heard the voice of the commander and straightened his back.
"Alright, drilling is about to finish. Remember your missions and give these sinners hell!"
All the while preparing, giant machinery was drilling into the walls of the prison. It took weeks to create machines that could pierce the strange metal.
Derek steeled himself, he was prepared.
'This is it, this is the start of the Dream Lord's fall!'