"Just as I thought," Sam murmured, his voice calm yet tinged with fascination. "The Nightmare World pulls people through their dreams. If I connect my dreamscape to that of a Nightmare Apostle, it will drag me in as well."
His piercing eyes flickered with intent, though they were now tinged with an eerie crimson hue.
"In that case, I can use the same principle to bring… everyone else along for the ride."
Sam extended his control further, linking his dreamscape to those of Ryan Cole and the other Viper elites.
The moment all the dreams connected, the crimson corruption surged forward, as though given a clear path to spread. It infiltrated each dreamscape, consuming them one by one, until all were dyed in a deep, sinister red.
The crimson hue wove itself into a massive, intricate web, ensnaring everyone's dreams within its grasp. It left no room for escape, as if to fall into it meant succumbing to an eternity of terror and despair.
And this… was exactly what Sam had planned.
Seated atop his supreme throne, his dark gold starry robe had been completely overtaken by the blood-red corruption. The flowing red ichor surged wildly, coalescing into a massive sea of blood that rose steadily, threatening to engulf him entirely.
It crept up his body—his abdomen, his chest, his neck…
Soon, only Sam's head remained above the crimson tide.
Even so, his pale face held a faint smile, one suppressed but unmistakably tinged with delight.
"Now this… this is going to be interesting," he whispered, his voice trembling with restrained anticipation.
As the last word fell from his lips, the sea of blood surged forth, swallowing him whole.
The pitch-black night enveloped Willow Village, casting an eerie stillness over the entire village. The area was desolate and barren; there were no warm lights glowing from household windows. Only a single two-story house flickered faintly with candlelight, standing out sharply against the oppressive darkness.
Under the night's shroud, the two-story house seemed cloaked in a dense, almost tangible darkness. Its weathered walls were covered in creeping, twisted vines, while the rusted iron gate creaked hauntingly in the faint breeze, emitting sounds akin to mournful groans.
Inside the house, four men and one woman sat around a candle, their expressions fraught with unease. Their eyes darted frequently toward the shadows beyond the candlelight's reach, as if something unspeakable might emerge from the blackness at any moment.
"It's already dark," said a young man in his twenties, his voice steady but carrying a sense of urgency. His buzz-cut hairstyle gave him a sharp, no-nonsense appearance. Unlike the others, who were visibly trembling with fear, his demeanor remained composed, albeit heavy with responsibility.
"As planned, we're heading out to find food and candles," declared Simon, his tone firm.
"Do we really have to go out?" asked Thomas, a middle-aged man, his voice quivering with trepidation.
Thomas wore a faded work uniform and heavily worn rubber shoes. His sun-darkened skin and slightly stooped posture betrayed years of grueling labor.
Simon shot him a cold glance. "What's the alternative? Stay here and wait to die?" he snapped. "We've been here for three days—three whole days without a bite to eat. If we keep this up, we'll starve to death before the Nightmare creatures even have a chance to get us! And the candles are nearly gone. Do I really need to spell out what happens when the candles go out?"
The middle-aged man shrank back fearfully, not daring to utter another word, while the others remained silent.
At this moment, Simon stood up decisively. "Everyone will split up and search the village for food," he commanded. "It's nighttime, so the humanoid creatures won't show up. Just watch out for the shadows. And remember—bring everything you find back here. I'll handle the distribution. If anyone dares to stash something for themselves…" His eyes gleamed coldly. "Don't blame me for being ruthless!"
Without waiting for a response, Simon grabbed a lantern and moved toward the door.
Before he could leave, the lone woman in their group grabbed his hand. Her delicate, attractive face was painted with an expression of helplessness, her pleading eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
"Simon, I… I'm scared. Can I stay with you?" she whispered.
She wore a sheer silk nightgown that clung to her body, accentuating her graceful curves. The slightly open neckline revealed a tantalizing glimpse of fair skin and an elegant collarbone, while the thin straps rested delicately on her rounded shoulders, appearing ready to slip off at any moment.
Her pitiful demeanor stirred something primal in the hearts of the other men, each of whom gulped quietly, their protective instincts roaring to life.
But Simon's expression remained cold and unyielding. Without the slightest hint of emotion, he flatly refused. "I said we're splitting up. The more people together, the more likely we'll attract the shadows!"
The woman bit her lip, her trembling voice heavy with desperation. "Please, Simon! You're the only one here who's an Apostle. Only you can protect me! I'll… I'll do anything you want."
Simon chuckled coldly, a glint of derision in his eyes. With a harsh motion, he pulled his hand free. "If you know I'm an Apostle, then you should also know that people like you? I could have a dozen at my beck and call back in the real world. But here, in the Nightmare World? I can barely protect myself, let alone you."
He leaned in slightly, his mocking tone cutting like a knife. "You said you'd do anything? Great. Go kill one of those shadows lurking in the dark. You manage that, and I'll personally stick to your side 24/7."
The woman paled instantly, as if the life had been drained from her.
Simon cast her a final, frosty glance before grabbing his lantern and walking into the darkness. His figure vanished into the night, leaving the woman frozen in place, trembling in the candlelight.
The abandoned woman cast a desperate look at the others, hoping for some sign of help. But no one responded.
The rest weren't fools; none of them were willing to drag along a burden. Each of them picked up a lantern and left in quick succession, leaving her standing alone.
Finally, after much hesitation, the middle-aged man broke the silence. "Alright… come with me. At least we can look out for each other."
The woman's face lit up with relief. She quickly nodded, wrapping her slender, pale arms tightly around the man's arm. Together, they picked up a lantern and left the house.
The pair moved cautiously through the oppressive darkness, their paper lantern casting only a faint, fragile glow. Their bodies pressed closely together, so close they could hear the steady rhythm of each other's heartbeat, providing a fragile sense of reassurance.
After some time, the silence was broken by the woman's voice.
"Tom, do you think we'll make it back alive?"
Tom's body stiffened, but he forced himself to reply in a soothing tone. "Miss Anna…"
"Just call me Anna," she interjected softly, her voice carrying a vulnerable note. "You're a good man,Thomas. You're not like the others."
"Anna…"Thomas's voice warmed slightly as he found courage in her words. "We'll make it back, I promise."
Her grip on his arm tightened, the soft, delicate touch momentarily easing his fears.
But then—
Snap!
A sharp sound broke the silence—a branch snapping underfoot in a nearby alley.
The two froze in place, their faces draining of color as they spun around, lifting their lantern high to illuminate the alley.
The passage before them was a void of darkness, pitch-black and gaping like the mouth of a bottomless abyss, silently devouring everything.
"Who's there?! Who is it?!"Thomas called out, his voice trembling with fear. "Is that you, Simon? Or maybe Mark…?"
Under the faint glow of the lantern, a shadowy figure seemed to stand quietly in the darkness, unmoving. The silhouette was tall and slender, eerily still.
Summoning his courage,Thomas raised the lantern higher, trying to catch a glimpse of the figure's face.
And then—it moved!
The shadow took a step forward, entering the dim circle of light. As it did, countless threads of darkness peeled away from its face like swarming insects, retreating to the edges of the light.
Revealed beneath was a pale, ghostly visage.
The features were sharp, almost unnaturally refined, with a pair of high-end tea-colored glasses resting on the bridge of a straight nose. The figure's lips curled into a polite yet unsettlingly elegant smile, and its deathly pale skin shimmered faintly under the flickering light, almost as if it were glowing.