Chapter 45: I'm Not Mad

Daenys instinctively covered her mouth. The moment she saw the scene of worship, she had already guessed that this little shepherd boy was most likely the Elder Pan.

But hearing the herders call him by that name still shocked her to the core.

Without hesitation, Daenys activated her Dream Lord ability, making herself instantly invisible, then silently followed the shepherd boy from a distance.

Pan, frantic with worry, was chasing after his flock, sprinting headlong toward the Fourteen Flames. But no matter how hard he ran, the sheep stayed just out of reach—as if guided by some mysterious force.

Despite being out of breath and utterly exhausted, Pan refused to give up. His only thought was that he could not lose his sheep.

At some point, a mysterious purple energy began to drift through the mountain air like wisps of smoke.

As Pan and the sheep ran, they unknowingly absorbed the purple energy into their bodies, and their speed steadily increased.

The chase continued until they reached the edge of a massive meteor crater.

The lead goat, paying no heed to the danger of the cliff, suddenly leapt straight into the pit. The rest of the flock followed without hesitation, one after another, plunging off the edge like dumplings dropped into boiling water.

"No!!"

Pan cried out as he watched his entire flock vanish into the abyss, despair flooding his eyes. In that moment, nothing else mattered—he could not let his sheep be lost.

Gritting his teeth, he summoned all his strength and leapt in after them.

Daenys gasped and rushed to the edge of the cliff. Without thinking, she reached out, hoping to grab him before he disappeared.

Just then, a figure in a crimson robe slowly rose from the depths of the crater, ghostlike in his approach.

"Elder..." Daenys whispered, her voice low and solemn.

Pan now seemed to have recovered his awareness. He shook his head slowly, a trace of emotion flickering in his eyes.

"You shouldn't have entered my dream," he said quietly.

Daenys stared at him, eyes wide.

"As a Valyrian, why don't I have the right to know? The Bloodsource Peak and the Dragonlord Council under your control are pushing Valyria closer to ruin every day!

Why destroy the Freehold? Why exterminate the families of the Dragon Dreamers?!"

Pan lowered his eyes in silence, offering no response.

Daenys glared at him, filled with rage. She raised both hands sharply, and a surge of intense silver mist burst forth. The mist coiled into two nimble silver snakes, which darted forward, twisting rapidly toward Pan.

But Pan remained calm. Eyes closed, his robe stirred without wind, rustling like silk.

Just as the silver snakes closed in, an invisible force rippled outward from his body, effortlessly dissolving the snakes into specks of silver light that faded into the air.

Daenys watched her attack vanish uselessly and felt a wave of dread. She tried to tear open Pan's dream and escape—but the red dream had become as solid as reality itself. No matter what she did, she couldn't affect it at all.

"It's no use... From the moment I jumped into that crater, I was infected—and became one of them. I now possess the body of a demigod. Mortal power means nothing to me anymore."

Pan opened his eyes and, in an instant, appeared beside her.

"Rest in my dream. Accept the correction—along with Valyria," he said, his expression blank.

"Rest? Correction? What does that mean?" Daenys gave up trying to resist and asked, confused.

Pan sighed. "No one's spoken to me about these things for thousands of years. You're lucky. I'll show you the truth."

He brought her slowly into the sky, rising thousands of meters above the land. From this height, they looked down like gods, taking in the full view of the Fourteen Flames below.

Time in the land beneath them began to accelerate, playing out like a sandbox game on fast-forward—so fast it was impossible to catch every detail.

Daenys turned to glance at Pan and understood immediately: he was showing her Valyria's past.

The image of the shepherd Pan appeared again in the crater. This time, he was riding a lamb with bat-like wings, wobbling as it flew up from the depths.

He returned to the tribe on the flying lamb and shared the bloodline synthesis technique he had obtained from the crater—openly, without holding anything back.

Under Pan's guidance, a group devoted to Blood Sorcery began to emerge.

Led by Pan, the nomadic tribe migrated to the Fourteen Flames and built laboratories all around the crater.

From then on, the Bloodmages began calling the crater Bloodsource Peak.

Then one day, a wild dragon wandered through the region, searching for a suitable nesting site. It happened upon the crater and was drawn to its strange environment, descending directly into it.

That encounter between the wild dragon and the Bloodmages led to the dragon's capture.

And so the wheels of fate began to turn.

Over the following centuries, through relentless research, the Bloodmages succeeded in developing the bloodline of the true dragons.

...

"Our ancestors walked a long and painful road, enduring unimaginable hardships to build this vast empire for us, their descendants. How can you bear to destroy it so easily?"

Daenys stared intently at the scene below—at the moment the first dragon tamer was born, as all the Bloodmages cheered in euphoria around the Dragonrider. Her heart swelled with sorrow and anger, and she couldn't help but question him.

Pan simply shook his head and let out a deep sigh.

"What you're seeing is only the surface—the fruits harvested in the pursuit of new knowledge. But you don't see the darkness buried beneath it all.

And none of this, not even the horrors hidden below, is the real reason behind my so-called grand plan.

The true root lies in the Blood Sorcery knowledge I obtained—it's fundamentally flawed."

"What flaw?" Daenys asked.

"This bloodline sorcery originates from a deity beyond the stars. It carries a terrifying corruption—one that slowly erodes our reason and drags our thoughts deeper and deeper into a pit of lust and depravity.

Our people have changed—dramatically. Once simple and pure, they've become fanatical and unhinged. Some even lost their minds completely and began using Blood Sorcery to experiment on their own kin..."

As Pan spoke, his face filled with sorrow. He flew alongside Daenys toward a grotesque laboratory deep inside Bloodsource Peak.

Daenys was stunned. Her eyes widened at the grotesque array of instruments and the sight of Valyrians struggling in agony on the operating tables, disbelief etched across her face.

"But... weren't you the one who led these bloodline experiments?" she asked, unable to hold back.

Pan's expression darkened.

"I've always opposed these inhumane experiments. But every effort I made to stop them failed. In the end, I lost control of the Bloodmages.

They've become completely consumed by their endless pursuit of knowledge, truth, and desire—like sinking into a swamp with no way out.

Four thousand years ago, I joined forces with House Valerys in an attempt to rein them in and bring them back to the right path.

But I failed. The Bloodmages responded by forming the Dragonlord Council, and their behavior only grew more frenzied and extreme. They've strayed far from my original vision."

"But even so—you can't just decide to destroy Valyria because of that! That's madness! How are you any different from the Bloodmages you claim to despise?" Daenys demanded.

Pan remained calm.

"The grand plan was never about destroying Valyria. Aegon simply never told you its true purpose.

To those like you, who can foresee the future through Dragon Dreams, it may look like I'm colluding with the Dragonlord Council to bring about Valyria's downfall.

To the Dragonborns who are directly involved in the plan, it might seem like we're extracting all the dragonblood from the people of Valyria to purify the divine blood within the Pit—so that a dozen so-called 'chosen ones' might gain eternal life.

But the truth is…"

Pan slowly turned to face her, his eyes meeting hers.

"My true purpose is to use the dragonblood of those Dragonlords—along with the blood of all Valyrians—to kill the star god that lies in the pit."

"You tricked Aegon too?!" Daenys stared at him in shock.

At that, Pan's long-suppressed emotions finally began to rise. It was as though this burden had weighed on him for centuries, and now, at last, he had found someone he could speak to.

"For the future of Valyria, these sacrifices will be worth it.

If we can rid ourselves of the star god's influence, our minds will no longer be corrupted—there will be no more madness, no more descent into chaos.

Everything I've done is for the sake of Valyria thousands upon thousands of years from now.

Even if it means sacrificing every generation up until now, it's a price we must pay.

If we can fully master Blood Sorcery, then one day—far in the future—our entire race will ascend together. It will be a future brighter than anything we've ever known.

House Targaryen is the seed of that future. That seed will one day take root, grow, bloom, and bear fruit—nurtured by the endless river of time..."

Daenys listened in silence, then shook her head with a bitter smile. Her voice trembled with pain and fury.

"You're mad. Truly, utterly mad. A complete lunatic."

Hearing his dream dismissed so flatly, Pan's face twisted with emotion. His features contorted, and then he threw back his head and burst into manic laughter.

"Hahahaha!!!

I'm not mad—I'm no lunatic.

I am the chosen one, favored by the gods. Do you know how many gods have endorsed my grand plan?

The Lion of Night. The ancient Old Gods. The Maiden-Made-of-Light. The Drowned God. The Many-Faced God...

Almost every god in this world has bestowed their blessing upon me.

This is their will. The will of the divine.

It is written—I will become a new god.

Valyria will rise to true greatness under my guidance!

You foolish mortal—watch with your own eyes, here in my dream, as I ascend to the throne of the gods! Hahahaha!!!"