Chapter 371: The World's Predicament

The familiar passage opened once again before Hoffa. He followed Nicolas Flamel into the basement of the villa. However, unlike last time, Flamel didn't open the hidden door leading to the ice chamber. Instead, he walked to the other side, lifted a wooden board on the ground, and revealed an old-fashioned pulley-operated elevator beneath it.

With a wave of his wand, Flamel activated the elevator, bringing it up. The two stepped onto the platform, and with a series of mechanical clunks, they descended.

Before long, they arrived in a stone chamber that resembled a wine cellar. However, instead of barrels of wine, the room was lined with rows of square crystal cabinets—coffins, to be precise.

Seeing these coffins, Hoffa couldn't help but click his tongue in amazement. This old man had filled his basement with so many coffins—wasn't he afraid of scaring people?

"You've got quite the setup down here. Does your wife know about this?"

Hoffa asked Flamel from the elevator.

Nicolas Flamel looked displeased. From the very first meeting, this boy had never treated him with proper respect. He was, after all, a renowned and distinguished wizard in the magical world, an Ivy League scholar who deserved more reverence. If any other brat spoke to him this way, he would have thrown them out immediately.

And yet, for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to dislike Hoffa. With a gruff tone, he replied, "A wizard's basement is his pride. One day, you'll understand."

The elevator landed, and Flamel pulled open the railing. Hoffa followed him closely as he walked up to the square coffins and brushed off the dust. Inside the transparent crystal, a middle-aged man lay in deep slumber. He was dressed in ancient attire, with his hands crossed over his chest, resting on red silk. A silver helmet adorned his forehead, and he wore chainmail armor—he looked like an actor straight out of a historical play.

Hoffa wiped another crystal coffin and found a noblewoman inside. She was dressed in an extravagant, flowing gown, and a cat lay on her chest. The cat appeared almost alive, its fur subtly rising and falling as if breathing.

Turning around, Hoffa called out, "Hey, Flamel, I had no idea you were such a freak. Did you dig these people up from their graves?"

"Watch your mouth!"

Flamel, who had been rummaging through a cabinet, snapped irritably. "These are my clients! Stop staring at them."

He continued searching through the cabinets with loud clanking sounds, clearly annoyed that Hoffa was making himself at home. Yet, at the same time, he found the boy's casual demeanor oddly endearing. Damn it, why did he feel a sense of familiarity with someone he had only met twice? This wasn't how a wizard who had lived for centuries was supposed to act.

Clients?

Hoffa, curious, approached another coffin. Inside lay a young man clad in black hunting attire, clutching a sharp cross-shaped sword. Several scars ran across his face, giving him a fierce and battle-hardened appearance.

As Hoffa stared, the man inside suddenly twitched, his eyelids fluttering.

Even with all his experience, Hoffa was startled. He leaped back and shouted, "Hey! Flamel, what the hell are you storing here—undead corpses?"

"Don't talk nonsense."

Flamel huffed. "They're all alive. Every single one of them."

Hoffa frowned. "Alive? Then why are they lying in coffins dressed like that? What's your game here?"

Flamel walked over, holding a small bottle. Inside was a dark red crystal submerged in a clear liquid. Using a dropper, he carefully extracted a tiny amount and approached the coffins, stopping every few steps to drip a single drop into the air vents of the crystal caskets.

"They are people from the past—travelers seeking the future," Flamel explained.

Hoffa was puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Flamel sighed. "Every era has those who are curious about the future. Some people feel dissatisfied with their time and long to see what lies ahead. So they come to me, and I grant their wish.

The Philosopher's Stone has the power to grant immortality, but this ability comes with significant drawbacks. It doesn't extend one's natural lifespan indefinitely. Instead, it allows a person to send their current lifespan into the future. During this period, they are essentially dead."

Hoffa stared at him in shock.

Flamel smirked. "Well, Bach, what do you think? Would you like to sign up for the service?"

Hoffa froze, then felt an overwhelming surge of excitement. If all it took was a deep sleep to wake up fifty years in the future, he would do it in a heartbeat.

But then, reality hit him.

Even if he could sleep through time, there was no guarantee that Aglaea would be waiting for him in that future. And what if the Nightmare God dragged him into another dream while he was unconscious?

He leaned against a coffin and asked, "Flamel, why did you bring me here? You're not seriously trying to sell me on this, are you?"

"Hahaha," Flamel chuckled. "Don't be ridiculous. Sleeping here for a year costs at least a thousand Galleons—and that's the wizard rate. For Muggles, it's even more expensive. And I highly doubt, Hoffa Bach, that you have that kind of money."

Hoffa's face twitched. He looked less than amused.

Flamel, however, seemed quite pleased with himself. With a flick of his wand, a reclining chair slid over, knocking Hoffa off his feet and making him land flat on it.

"What the—?!" Hoffa exclaimed.

Flamel approached with the dropper, carefully extracting a single drop of liquid from the bottle. Like applying eye drops, he let it fall onto Hoffa's eyes.

Almost instantly, a heavy drowsiness washed over him. His heart pounded in alarm, and he instinctively grabbed Flamel's wrist, his eyes widening in panic. He did not want to fall asleep—not if he could help it.

But the sleep came with the force of a tidal wave, relentless and inescapable. Cold sweat dripped down Hoffa's forehead as he gritted his teeth, struggling to stay awake.

Flamel sat beside him, gently patting his hand before placing Chloe's Soul Stone on his chest.

"You… You…!"

Hoffa struggled to speak through clenched teeth.

"Shh… relax."

Flamel's voice was calm. "I'm not trying to harm you."

Hoffa could resist no longer. His eyes rolled back, and he sank into a hazy, dreamlike state. As he drifted away, he heard Flamel's voice one last time:

"The Philosopher's Stone has many uses… One of them is allowing a person to step beyond the confines of time. In that realm, you may find the answers you seek."

In his consciousness, a blinding white light appeared once more. Hoffa looked around anxiously, dreading the possibility that his memories might be erased again—or worse, that he might be dragged into another incomprehensible dream.

He wished for the little boat to appear again. He longed to see the small bird flapping its wings at the bow, guiding him in the right direction. But none of that was there.

Likewise, he hadn't lost his memories. The white light surrounding him was just that—soft and gentle white light.

Suddenly, someone patted him on the shoulder.

Hoffa turned around abruptly and saw a young girl with red hair beaming at him.

For a moment, he was stunned. Then, his eyes stung.

"Chloe," he called softly.

"Hoffa, long time no see," Chloe said cheerfully.

Her joyful expression only deepened Hoffa's guilt. He couldn't speak, nor could he meet her gaze. Instead, he turned his head away.

"Don't be sad, Hoffa. It's been so long. Don't you miss me?"

Chloe tried to comfort him.

But her words only made the stinging in his eyes worse.

"I'm sorry, Chloe," Hoffa choked out, his voice thick with remorse. "I was lost in the wrong place for too long. I failed you."

"It's okay, Hoffa. You don't need to apologize for something that never actually happened," Chloe said calmly.

Hoffa shook his head. "I didn't bring you back to life. I let my guard down. I was trapped in a dream, and because of that, I lost my magic. I may have even lost the power of time itself. I messed everything up—I failed."

Chloe placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and spoke in a soft voice, "Hoffa, returning to reality takes great courage. In my eyes, the truly terrifying thing is that so many people remain lost in dreams and fantasies, unwilling to wake up."

Her soothing tone helped Hoffa pull himself together. He rubbed his eyes, took a deep breath, and looked around.

"Where is this place? Chloe, am I dreaming?"

"This is the world," Chloe said. "An invisible world, an abstract world. You could call it a dream, and you wouldn't be wrong—dreams and the abstract world do overlap in some places."

Hoffa gazed at Chloe's flawless face and suddenly recalled what the giant had said about the Nightmare God, bathed in blood. They looked so alike, yet their auras were entirely different.

"Chloe, what is your connection to the Nightmare God?"

The question had been buried deep within his heart for a long time. From the moment he first saw the Nightmare God, something had felt off. The Nightmare God's eyes were almost identical to Chloe's when her magic went out of control. He hadn't given it much thought before, but now, he could no longer ignore the strange similarities.

"We can finally get down to serious matters," Chloe sighed and pulled Hoffa down to sit on the glowing white light.

"Growing up, I always felt transparent, like air—stable, like plain water—except when my magic went out of control. Before I met you, my magical outbursts weren't as severe. I would only jump back and forth within a single day. But a year later, my outbursts became more frequent and intense. I believe that was when the Half-Blood King released it. After that, its influence spread further and further."

Hoffa frowned in confusion. "What does that mean?"

Chloe explained, "When I left my physical body, freed from all desires, I realized something—

The more chaotic it became, the more stable I was.

Likewise, the more stable I became, the more chaotic it was."

Hoffa's eyes widened bit by bit. A chill ran down his spine.

"I am its opposite," Chloe said. "And it is mine. Wherever it exists, I exist. Wherever I exist, it exists."

A shiver ran through Hoffa. He quickly shook his head. "That doesn't make sense. It was always sealed inside my wand, but you were born in France. How could there be such a connection?"

"I merely represent the opposite of its rule. We were born into the same world, but it's not as simple as two sides of a coin. If I had to describe it… it's like the arrow of time. I don't want it to point in random directions. But it seems to love chaos. That's the inherent disorder of the world itself."

Hoffa sat on the ground, massaging his temples.

Chloe's words left him feeling half-enlightened, half-confused. But what he truly wanted was a clear answer.

"What should I do?" he asked. "Chloe, is there still a chance to make things right?"

"Of course. There is always a chance. Just do what you think is right," Chloe assured him.

"But won't it try to stop me?" Hoffa hesitated. "If I try to kill Sylby, won't it interfere? After all, it already dragged me into a nightmare once."

Chloe didn't answer. She just looked at him with sympathy.

Hoffa felt a chill down his spine. He raised his hands in surrender.

"I know… my choices led me here. But… is it possible?"

Chloe shook her head. "It has no real preference—its only preference is uncertainty. I can only tell you that whether it helps you or helps him is a fifty-fifty chance. If you want to control greater uncertainty, you will undoubtedly need a stronger will."

Hoffa lowered his head in shame.

Chloe didn't say it outright, but he understood—the sweet illusions of the nightmare had already eroded his will. He could no longer wield that unpredictable power.

"I don't know what to do, Chloe," he murmured. "I thought I loved her. But after 300,000 years of endless cycles, everything has changed. I thought mastering time would make me invincible, but that power was stripped away in an instant. Even my magic is fading day by day. I don't know what I have left to hold on to in this world. Tell me, Chloe… that mission—such a daunting mission—can I really complete it? I couldn't even defeat Sylby in my dreams. Maybe I'm not his match in reality either."

Chloe stood up and placed her hands on his shoulders.

"Hoffa, Hoffa… this is exactly why I came to find you."

The white light beneath them swirled, and images slowly emerged—forming in the same way nightmares did.

But this time, with Chloe by his side, Hoffa didn't feel afraid.

Within the light, a city slowly appeared. As they drifted through it, they saw towering skyscrapers, their streets packed with countless busy figures.

People bustled between the buildings, engaged in loud conversations. Every person seemed occupied with something important.

At the very heart of the city, inside its grandest structures, were countless individuals making frantic phone calls. Their arms waved as they spoke, their faces animated, spittle flying from their lips. In front of them were massive display boards, where numbers fluctuated constantly—rising and falling.

The entire city was abuzz, filled with an almost unbelievable level of excitement. Everywhere, people stared at the shifting numbers with rapt attention, utterly absorbed.

Chloe and Hoffa hovered above the scene. She looked sorrowful.

"Look, Hoffa," she said. "People don't care about magic anymore. They don't need it. They only need money. They don't seek the extraordinary—they only want to win. In the abstract world, it's clear to see… They don't even dream anymore. And when they do, they only dream of getting rich overnight.

"In such a world… how could magic not wither away?"

(End of Chapter)

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