The Dream Of Reality

Zen stood at the foot of the cathedral steps, breath shallow, heart pounding.

He had expected something—anything—when they threw him out. A horde of monsters. The so-called Men Who Burn. A mob waiting to tear him apart.

But there was nothing.

Silence stretched over the town like a thick fog. The same suffocating quiet he had felt before. The cathedral doors behind him were locked once more, the iron chains undisturbed.

Zen turned, eyes scanning the streets. Empty.

His fingers twitched. A trick? A test?

Far ahead, a few figures strolled along the rightmost street, their movements slow and dreamlike. They didn't seem to notice him. Or care.

Confused, Zen crouched down beside Muki. The cat hadn't moved, her ears flicking as she stared ahead, eerily still. "You feel it too, don't you?" Zen murmured.

Muki's white eyes met his for a second before she turned away, fixated on something unseen.

"Liked the dream, boy?" A chill ran down his spine.

The voice came from above.

Zen snapped his head up. A figure stood atop the cathedral, draped in a flowing white robe lined with gold. The tunic was stiff and regal, but his pants swayed unnaturally as if caught in a wind that didn't exist.

Zen barely had time to process it before he saw it—a hand retracting into the figure's sleeve.

No, not a hand. Something else. The elongated limb shimmered with hues of pink and violet, shifting like a cosmic mirage.

The figure smiled. "This is my Astral Spirit: Dream of Reality." His voice was smooth, almost amused. "Whenever my spirit's hand touches someone, they enter a dreamscape of my making."

Zen's stomach twisted.

The town. The people. The cathedral. All of it had been an illusion?

"You, however…" The figure tilted his head, eyes gleaming. "You're no Astral. So I thought—why not have a little fun?"

Zen's fists clenched. This wasn't a dream anymore. This was real.

HUH?

Zen's brain short-circuited. His body tensed, fight or flight battling for control. "Who are you, and what do you want?" he asked, his voice aiming for confidence but landing somewhere between defiance and panic.

The masked figure cocked his head. "You know what I want."Zen barely had time to process that before the man jumped from the top of the Cathedral. No—floated. His descent was unnervingly smooth, like gravity had simply given up trying to pull him down. Zen's stomach twisted. He didn't like this. He didn't like this at all.

The Core...

Zen clutched Muki tighter, his arms instinctively forming a shield around her. "I-I don't know what you're talking about..." he stammered, immediately hating how unconvincing he sounded.

The man's mask gleamed under the moonlight—white, with golden linings. Just like that other Astral.

Seriously, what's with these guys and their masks? Is it a fashion statement? A cult requirement? Zen's thoughts ran wild, probably in a desperate attempt to distract himself from the fact that he was about to get killed."Give me the Core," the man said, his voice calm—too calm.

Zen felt his heartbeat hammer against his ribs. "I-I don't have it with me," he blurted. "I hid it in the forest!"The Astral didn't react. No shift in posture, no hesitation—just silent, unsettling stillness. Then, in a blur, he closed the distance between them and grabbed Zen's tunic with one hand.

Fast. Too fast.

Zen barely had time to gasp before he was yanked forward like a ragdoll.

Muki let out an angry, high-pitched meow, her white eyes gleaming like tiny moons. But when the masked figure turned to her, her ears flattened, and she immediately buried her head in Zen's arm.

The man sighed as if dealing with a particularly troublesome child. "You're a terrible liar." Zen felt his breath catch.

Shit. This is happening already? Is he the Knight who wants to hunt me down?"

"I-I can take you there," Zen said quickly, forcing his voice to stay steady. "The forest… where I hid it."

The masked man tilted his head, considering him like a scientist observing a particularly dumb lab rat. "Sure," he said, his voice casual. "But if I don't find the Core there, you're dead. I won't even give it a second thought."

Zen gulped, Great. No pressure at all.

He turned toward the forest, beginning his slow, miserable march. The man followed hands in his pockets, walking like a noble taking a leisurely evening stroll. Zen almost hated him for how relaxed he looked. Almost. Because right now, there are bigger problems—like the fact that Zen didn't have a plan.

A few thousand steps later, they reached the outskirts of the forest. The trees loomed over them, their jagged branches stretching out like skeletal hands. Zen pointed to a large tree ahead.

"I hid it behind that tree."

The man stopped. Then, in a slow, deliberate motion, he slapped his forehead.

"Are you stupid, boy?"

Zen blinked. "Uh—?"

"You left the Core out in the open? Just like that?" The masked man sounded genuinely offended. "Do you have any idea what kind of disaster that could cause?"

Zen opened his mouth, but the man wasn't done.

"And where did you even find it? Do you have the faintest clue that the Core needs to be sealed properly? Otherwise, its energy leaks out like a damn beacon!"

Zen stared. "Um…"

That was a lot of information. And by a lot, he meant zero words made sense. Seals? Energy radiation? What was this, some advanced magic theory class?

"Listen," he said slowly, rubbing his temple. "I just… found it lying in the forest."

The masked figure went still. His posture shifted, and his aura darkened.

"You know that's a sin, right?"

Zen nodded weakly. "Yeah, the town made that very clear. They kicked me out for it."

A moment of silence. Then—

The man laughed.

Not a chuckle. Not a scoff. A full-blown, mocking laugh.

"Oh, you poor boy," he said, shaking his head. "That's unfortunate. You see… now you really have to die."

Zen stiffened.

The man took a step forward, his voice still eerily light. "Your hands have already imprinted on the Core. And unless I kill you, I can't erase that mark."

Zen's breath hitched.

Wait.

What?