Chapter 366: Memory Restored

"Aglaya!"

"Aglaya!"

Hoffa abruptly yanked his head out of the giant's mouth, choking and gasping, his cries mixing with an indescribable liquid.

In the distance, Miranda shut her eyes, unable to bear watching.

Sylby, on the other hand, observed with keen interest as the young man struggled frantically in the giant's grasp.

Where he found the strength, he did not know—perhaps the God of Nightmares was merely toying with him, playing a cruel game of cat and mouse. Hoffa kicked the giant's face with all his might, breaking free from its terrifying embrace.

At that moment, all his lost memories came rushing back. Yet, for him, this was the most horrifying thing of all. He couldn't believe he had done such things. At this moment, his only desire was to forget it all—to erase every trace of the nightmare.

"Kill me."

Leaning against the carvings of the abandoned courtyard, he trembled as he spoke.

The God of Nightmares floated in the air, staring at him with indifference. High on the walls, two figures gazed at him with equally cold expressions. The statues along Hogwarts' towering walls all looked down on him, their stony faces devoid of emotion. Gargoyles bared their frozen fangs under the moonlight.

There was no place for him here anymore. The storm of emotions in his chest threatened to tear him apart—like a fragile bottle he painstakingly pieced back together, only for an unseen hand to shatter it again and again, endlessly.

He ran.

He ran like a madman.

Every inch of Hogwarts was so familiar—he had lived and studied here for years. But now, faced with this shattered reality, how could he possibly accept it?

Stumbling and crashing down the castle steps, he ran straight to the Black Lake. There, he screamed at the top of his lungs:

"Kill me!"

"Kill me!!"

"Kill me!!!"

The Black Lake answered with nothing but the crashing of its relentless waves.

The translucent giant floated above, following him to the lake's edge.

Suspended beneath the moonlight's glow, its body stretched into a cruciform shape. Black hair sprouted from its head, whipping through the air like writhing tendrils. The moon loomed larger, its sheer presence pressing down on the world, stirring the lake into a violent frenzy.

"Did you think casting an Obliviate on yourself would let you escape the dream?"

The God of Nightmares spoke through the giant's mouth.

Hoffa's head snapped up.

Veins bulged across his face, contorted in pure fury.

"You're playing with me!!"

"Aha, my apologies, Bach~"

The God of Nightmares chuckled. "I only brought you back, but how you complete your task—that's entirely up to you."

"What the hell do you want!? Why are you helping him?!"

Hoffa demanded, his voice bordering on hysteria.

"I help no one," the God of Nightmares replied calmly. "The world is like a wishing well. As long as someone has a wish, I will fulfill it—no matter what that wish may be. As long as their plea is—sufficiently devout. As for the outcome? I don't care. You know me, I prefer uncertain answers."

"Was I not devout enough, then?! You call yourself a god!!"

Hoffa roared with scorn. "Why don't you just kill me?!"

"Have you forgotten the choice you made in the dream? It wasn't someone else—it was you."

The blood-red face murmured, its voice eerily soft.

Hoffa felt a thousand invisible blades pierce through his chest. He staggered back, clutching his head, shaking it frantically. His fingers dug so hard into his scalp that they broke the skin.

Everything that had happened in the dream was too real. He couldn't face it. He couldn't believe that he had made such choices. But it had all happened—undeniably, irrevocably.

"How much do you still long for this place?"

The God of Nightmares spoke through the giant's mouth once more. "In the dream, I felt your exhaustion. I sensed your numbness. I could taste your desperate craving for sleep. You let your guard down, wizard."

"Kill me," Hoffa rasped, his voice hoarse. "Kill me!"

"I will grant you release. But before that, there is still something you owe me."

The giant reached for him again, its massive hand closing around him. "Since you cannot control this power, let someone more capable take it instead."

"Kill me," Hoffa repeated inside the giant's grip.

He could not bear the truth of what had transpired in the dream. He wanted nothing more than to forget—he was willing to pay any price for that oblivion.

"As you wish. Every single one of your wishes…

Will.

Be.

Fulfilled."

With a brutal twist of its translucent arm—

His bones snapped, piercing through his flesh. Blood gushed from his body, flowing in rivers down his skin.

The giant opened its mouth beneath him. The blood poured inside.

Bathed in the crimson stream, the blood-red face stretched and expanded, reshaping itself into human form.

High above in the castle, Sylby sat motionless in his wheelchair, eyes unblinking as he watched the eerie, grotesque ritual unfold over the Black Lake.

Miranda covered her mouth, then suddenly yanked Sylvie up from the wheelchair, demanding harshly, "What are you doing? You said you wouldn't kill him!"

"I haven't killed him. He won't die just yet."

Miranda looked at Hoffa's miserable state and couldn't believe for a second that he was still alive.

Sylvie said indifferently, "It's almost done, Miss Gorshak. You have fulfilled our agreement. I guarantee you can return to that world."

Miranda's face turned pale as she asked, "Does it have to be this way?"

"There's no other choice," the gaunt woman replied.

"This is too cruel."

Sylvie chuckled softly and said, "If you've spent over a decade trying and failing to cage a bird, how can you be sure you'll succeed this time? And how can you be sure that isn't cruelty?"

Miranda was speechless. She had no choice but to let go.

Bathed in Hoffa's blood, the giant's tongue gradually took the shape of a woman. She spread her arms as if she were about to embrace the boy suspended in midair.

The lost sacred blood.

The beast let out a mournful cry.

A consciousness imprisoned.

Doomed never to be free.

As the blood drained from his body, Hoffa lost consciousness. In the haze between life and death, a familiar white light filled his awareness. He fell toward it. Buildings and scenes emerged from the radiance—magnificent, advanced structures, spotless and pristine. A world designed to fulfill anyone's ideal vision.

The memories he had just regained began to slip away once more. The pain faded. Worries vanished. He had a house, a career, a loving wife, and a happy family. He found himself contemplating the most ordinary concerns—how to take his son on vacation, when to pick up his daughter from school.

As he fell, he heard a familiar birdsong. It had only been a few days since he last heard it, but this time, it no longer sounded sorrowful. It sounded like the bird was shaking its wings in the twilight.

"Will you come back?"

"Yes."

A black speck appeared in the illusion. It expanded rapidly, devouring the white light. His career, his children, his wife, his house—everything was consumed, replaced by a resounding cry.

Hoffa was jolted awake as memories surged back into his mind. Reality crashed upon him, the pain more intense than ever before. But he was not empty-handed. He still had the power of the Thunderbird. He still had an unfinished mission. He had to return fifty years later and fulfill his promise to Aglaia.

But now, he was trapped in the grasp of a god. How could he break free?

As blood soaked his body, the pendant on his chest trembled slightly.

And then—everything froze.

The woman in the wheelchair, Miranda covering her face, the falling blood, the woman reaching out her arms, the giant's flowing hair—even the raging waves of the black lake stopped moving.

Time stretched infinitely in that moment.

"Hoffa, now is the time."

A woman's voice whispered in his ear.

Birdsong echoed in his heart.

His eyes snapped open, and his wounds healed rapidly.

A sharp blade flashed.

The giant's five fingers were severed in unison.

Hoffa landed on the ground from a great height. From his elbows to his fingertips, rows of sleek metallic feathers extended, their broken edges gleaming with a dull silver light.

Most of his body was exposed to the air. Some parts were torn open, revealing bone. Blood covered every inch of him. The agony in his flesh made every nerve tremble. Yet, he had never been clearer, never been more alert.

He finally remembered—on that night, it was the Thunderbird's cry that had awakened him from his nightmare.

"Thank you," Hoffa said hoarsely.

His gaze shifted to the castle above. Miranda and Sylvie stood together, completely frozen, their expressions and eyes locked in place.

Without hesitation, Hoffa gripped his razor-sharp feather blade and limped toward the platform. He didn't know why Miranda was with Sylvie—perhaps it had something to do with the dream—but none of that mattered now. His only mission was to kill Sylvie and set the timeline back on its proper course.

Halfway there, a sense of unease pricked at him. In this near-stagnant time field, something unseen was moving. The leaves on the ground were falling just a little too fast.

He turned abruptly—and gasped.

The bloodied woman emerging from the giant's mouth bore a resemblance to Chloe. Her fingers trembled, her head slowly turned toward him, and her eyes—pale and glowing—lacked pupils.

In the wheelchair, Sylvie's fingers twitched slightly, brushing against the wand Hoffa once wielded.

Time was rapidly returning to motion. Suspended stones plummeted, ripples spread again across the black lake, and even the severed fingers of the transparent giant flew backward, as if the scene was playing in reverse.

Hoffa felt a chill of foreboding.

He was gravely wounded. The power of time had vanished. Even the strength of the Thunderbird was nearly depleted. This was not the right moment to complete his mission.

In a split second, his mind raced.

Then, he abandoned the thought of killing Sylvie.

Without looking back, he sheathed his blade and fled toward the castle's exit.

(End of Chapter)

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