Chapter 52 – The Asleep and the Awake

The scenes shifted back and forth, without any chronological order, only changes in appearance.

Lin Wei floated in and out of these fragments of dreams, his mind heavy but his consciousness barely awake.

A recurring scene was a vast, empty hall with a massive eye painted on the domed ceiling. Often, a snow-white skull with hollow eye sockets would appear, either cradled in her arms or placed beside her.

People in black robes, their features blurred, came and went through the hall, speaking in various languages. During the quiet moments, she would carve countless chaotic marks into the floor and walls, day and night—Lin Wei struggled to recall, realizing these seemed to be patterns of seals.

An elf… this was an elf, her long hair tied up to reveal pointed ears that betrayed her race. Yet her expression was always cold, shrouded in darkness and shadow, with wisps of dark green or deep blue ethereal flames drifting around her, nothing like the legendary, wondrous race she belonged to.

One night, the door to the hall was knocked from the outside.

She slowly stopped her carving, and the door, as if moved by her will, creaked open to reveal the figure of a visitor.

“Guest,” she spoke in the human tongue, her voice distant, like the thin frost on tree branches in winter, “where do you come from?”

The visitor pulled back his hood, revealing eyes as pale as ice and snow. “I come from the north.”

“The north and the west are far apart,” she said. “Those who cherish life would not tread here.”

“On the contrary, goddess,” the man replied with a faint smile. “I am but a humble bard, who treasures his life and has crossed the entire continent through the flames of war to seek your protection.”

“I have no reason to offer protection to a bard, and the swamp will not remain safe forever,” she said indifferently.

“You will agree, for the sword of the Goddess of Light also points at my throat.”

The scene shifted again, and the bard was now outside the door, bowing respectfully to the black-robed elf by the doorframe.

She said, “The northern tower will become a place she cannot tread, as long as you are willing to sacrifice the freedom that is as precious as life to a bard. In your lifetime, you need not fear her sword.”

“No one possesses freedom, goddess,” the bard said finally. “Not the bard, not the Goddess of Light, and not even you.”

He turned and left, his figure disappearing into the dense shadows of the trees.

The surrounding singing suddenly grew louder. She looked up at the gray sky, brushing a few strands of hair behind her ear. Her usually cold face broke into a faint smile, icy and profound. With certainty, she uttered a brief phrase: “I shall be free.”

As her words fell, the singing ceased abruptly, and Lin Wei’s consciousness was suddenly lifted into the gray sky.

He looked down at the lifeless swamp, where tiny white lights were scattered and drifting slowly.

The scene he had just witnessed remained vividly clear in his memory, perhaps because the bard’s pale eyes had felt strangely familiar.

He drifted above the swamp, touching the floating lights. Each light brought a dream related to the black-robed elf. As he experienced these scenes, the light would seep into his fingertips, bringing a warm sensation, as if he were submerged in a warm spring.

Lin Wei’s initial drowsiness gradually dissipated, and he became fully awake. He carefully felt the sensations brought by the lights and recognized them—they were fragments of soul power, carrying the memories of their original owner. As the memories faded, they merged into his own soul.

Pure and powerful soul power, perhaps belonging to the goddess who had long since disappeared.

Lin Wei now knew—she was still alive, or else this power would have dissipated. But she also shouldn’t be alive, or else this power wouldn’t be scattered.

She had said she would gain freedom, but she was bound by a vow, unable to step out of the swamp for eternity.

Lin Wei watched as his soul orb grew more radiant and solid with the infusion of this power, and his mental strength, which complemented his soul power, also increased.

He felt lighter—he looked at the other scattered fragments, and as if summoned, they gathered together, forming a vast river of stars, like the ones seen when looking up at the night sky on Siren Island.

This river of stars now surrounded Lin Wei, flowing toward his soul orb. Yet, when it was all over, and Lin Wei’s soul power had grown to several times what it had been in his previous life, and his mental strength was no longer so strained, he still couldn’t piece together the complete life of the goddess Katanaphia from the fragmented memories.

He had seen her long, lonely, cold years in the swamp, watched her carve complex seals into the walls, seen her profile as she wrote the Book of Contracts under the glow of greenish flames, and witnessed her kissing the snow-white skull. But he never saw her life before she became a girl, nor did he see her final end.

It was enough, Lin Wei told himself—he wasn’t particularly interested in the goddess’s life story. He just wanted to get out of this damned place.

He also seemed to know how to get out of this damned place, just like the black-robed mages who came and went in the hall.

He had to return to his body. Perhaps a long time had passed since he fell unconscious—his companions would be worried.

He pushed the cold, desolate feeling from the goddess’s memories out of his mind. Katanaphia had indeed been alone, but he was different. Someone was waiting for him, and he knew that as soon as he woke up, he would see that person’s beautiful eyes—so he would never stay awake all night like the goddess, nor would he lie awake in the dark night as he had in his previous life.

Yes, someone was waiting for him—this realization made him happy, and he floated toward the mountain. He now knew everything about the Death Swamp, thanks to the goddess who had lived here for who knew how long, and who knew every tree outside the hall.

Outside the mountain, a fierce battle was raging. The combatants were enormous, likely two top-tier magical beasts drawn by the dense magical elements released when the vine died. They were both fire-attributed, and the mountain shook violently under their intense magical attacks.

The battle was nearing its end. One of the beasts had scorched fur and a massive gash on its neck, indicating that Lin Wei had been unconscious for quite some time.

Lin Wei’s consciousness easily sank into the mountain, finding the sealed corridors of the underground palace.

He walked along the corridor and entered a pale gray-white circular room, immediately spotting the person he wanted to see.

He was still lying on the bed, just as he had been when he first fell asleep. Duan Yu sat by the bed, and Lin Wei, now fully awake, confirmed that he had indeed emerged unscathed from the earlier battle.

Though his soul was safely suspended here, his body seemed restless—his brows were slightly furrowed, as if he was seeing something in his dreams.

Duan Yu was watching him, seemingly hesitating for a moment before reaching out to gently touch his furrowed brow, as if trying to smooth it.

Strangely, looking at Duan Yu’s profile and the earnest gaze directed at him, Lin Wei felt a pang of jealousy toward himself—he really wanted to be the one lying there!

He moved closer to his body in frustration, trying to return his consciousness in time, perhaps to feel Duan Yu’s touch before his fingers left—but unfortunately, the moment his consciousness touched his body, he was pulled into another scene—this time, his own dream.

This was an illusion created by the poisonous mist—not the true memories like the goddess’s dreams.

Lady Lavis’s face was beautiful and proud, passing him by on the bustling streets of the Imperial Capital. Gregory stood by the window of a building, overlooking the crowd—above, the Floating Sky Capital was crashing and burning, its beautiful five-colored cloud stones glowing red from the flames, like massive meteors colliding with the Imperial Capital.

The Imperial Palace, as well as Tidis’s mansion, were reduced to ruins—Lady Lavis’s beautiful face became marred with hideous burns, and in a daze, it merged with the appearance of his mother.

He was on the back of a dragon, the cold wind blowing past him. A mage with dark golden hair, dressed in a white robe, thrust the icy silver Gungnir straight toward him, and in a moment of hesitation, it pierced his chest with a chilling cold.

The dragon had disappeared without a trace. He instinctively closed his eyes, falling toward the burning ruins below, the flames consuming everything. Fragmented memories flashed through his mind—and suddenly, he was caught—held in someone’s arms, their cool, soft hair brushing against his cheek, a sensation that felt deeply familiar.