Three hundred years ago, Noir Giabella demonstrated the devastating power of the Demoneye of Fantasy most accurately, not in battle, but in a massacre. She had drowned thirty thousand elite soldiers of the Turas Kingdom on a plain devoid of water. The soldiers had lacked resistance to mental attacks. They had seen an ocean on the dry plain and floundered on the ground as if they were in deep water.

In their desperate attempt to escape the nonexistent sea, they shed their heavy armor and even cast aside their weapons. Yet, despite their efforts, all thirty thousand soldiers perished by drowning on the dry plain within minutes.

The situation Eugene found himself in now was even more dire than that event three centuries prior. This sea was an illusion, yet it was no illusion. It felt as real as any waking moment, and here, Eugene could die repeatedly without truly dying.

In the worst case, he would drown over and over again.

Eugene’s eyes widened in panic, and he bit his lip while instinctively holding his breath. He could last perhaps dozens of minutes without air, but not indefinitely. However, holding his breath for too long impaired his thinking, and inevitably, his consciousness would start to fray. And he would lose consciousness regardless of his will.

He tried to move, but his efforts were futile. The infinite ocean seemed to flow towards him, its immense pressure crushing him.

Suddenly, a spiraled stream of water shot towards him like a drill amidst the violent currents. He realized it early on and made an attempt to avoid it. However, he failed to do so. It wasn’t just the sea but the dream itself that restricted his actions.

His body twisted violently as he was pierced through.

‘Lungs,’ he thought.

They had been pierced through. He no longer had any control over his breaths, and his consciousness rapidly faded. Water poured into his punctured lungs. It felt like his lungs were on fire, and his whole body felt as if it might burst.

‘I can’t endure this,’ Eugene realized.

He came to a decision just as his consciousness started to slip away. He had considered holding his breath and waiting for an opportunity, but that seemed futile now. If he were truly in the ocean, there might have been other strategies to employ, but in this dream-made ocean, this was the best he could do.

His body felt as if it might explode — and it actually did. The White Flame Formula ran amok, and the universe seemed to explode with it. All of Eugene’s mana burst forth as flames.

Noir stared with her jaws agape from above the sea. What Eugene had just done was essentially a form of self-destruction. Without seeking any alternative, he had simply blown himself up.

Yet, the power of his explosion was ludicrously immense, creating a gaping hole in the infinite sea. It was a force more potent than any techniques he utilized, including the Empty Sword and Eclipse. It was bound to be since he had sacrificed his entire existence to deliver the single blow.

“Hamel, this is quite… surprising, to say the least,” Noir said, her initial anger and irritation now replaced by astonishment. She took a step back while blinking with wide eyes.

“You really are recklessly insane,” she muttered.

Crackle!

Eugene burst forth from the hole in the sea. His eyes were bloodshot, his breathing agitated, and his hair drenched. Noir chuckled dryly and shook her head as the blazing form of Levantein soared towards her head.

“Hamel,” she called out.

Her voice changed, and so did her form. Noir, who had just been shaking her head, was now transformed into another being. Sienna blinked at Eugene.

Then she spoke, “You’re trying to kill me….”

The flames did not scatter, and Levantein did not hesitate in its path. Eugene immediately beheaded Sienna. From nose to nape, her head split in two and flew away.

“Hamel, isn’t this too much?”

Another voice sounded from behind him. He recognized it instantly. It was Anise.

Eugene spun around with Prominence. His adversary was clad in a stark white clerical robe. The skeletal form of Anise clacked her jaws and clasped her bony hands in prayer.

“Trying to kill me again when I am already dead…” she muttered.

“Yeah, I’ll kill you,” Eugene responded curtly.

Thud!

Levantein split Anise’s skull from the crown to the chin.

Crunch!

Anise’s ribs were cracked open, and Kristina burst forth. She clung to Eugene’s arm, tears of blood streaming down her face.

“Please, please, Sir Eugene, save me…” she begged.

“To hell with that,” Eugene spat out in annoyance as he pressed down harder with Levantein.

“Aaaaagh!”

Kristina’s entire body was consumed by flames. The smell of burning flesh stung Eugene’s nose, and in the fire, Kristina glowed brightly.

“Sir Eugene! Pl-please, save me!” Below him, Mer clung to Eugene’s legs.

Crack!

Eugene wielded Levantein like a spear of flame and skewered Mer.

“Benefactor! Ah, it hurts!”

Raimira was split into two the moment she appeared. Her two halves, one side to the right and the other to the left transformed into different beings.

“Eugene, you’re the one suited to become the head of the Lionheart family….”

“I saved your life, you know? If it hadn’t been for me….”

Cyan and Ciel approached Eugene, babbling as if they were genuinely making conversation.

Crack.

Tired of the recurring farce, Eugene bit his lip.

Rumble!

Flames enveloped Levantein and gathered into a massive form like a hammer. He then manifested the skill associated with the Annihilation Hammer: Pressure.

To smash. To burst. To explode.

This simple, brutish power struck at Ciel and Cyan.

No, it didn’t make contact. The strike stopped just in front of them.

Roar!

The power contained in the strike was redirected to the surroundings.

“Hamel. Are you intending to kill the descendant of Vermouth with your own hands?”

He saw a chilling glare. The man’s bushy beard quivered.

Molon’s axe pushed back the fiery hammer. The dream had changed suddenly. Just moments before, it had been the sea — no, was it really the sea? When Cyan and Ciel appeared, it had been the Lionheart mansion, and now he was in a blizzard in Lehainjar.

“Shit.” Eugene grimaced as he uttered the word.

This kind of dream was familiar to him. It was a classic nightmare that Noir used to favor three hundred years ago. By repeatedly showing nightmares about his comrades, she made it impossible to distinguish between reality and the nightmare. Hence, she would bring malice from the nightmare into reality and sow discord.

Naturally, it had no effect on Hamel and his companions. Even now, it was the same. No matter how intricate Noir’s nightmares were, Eugene’s emotions remained unconquered, dominated not by fear but by irritation and anger.

“What good is this crap to me?” Eugene roared, splitting Molon neatly in two along with his axe. “I didn’t go mad from such nightmares even three hundred years ago; do you think I would now?”

He stepped over Molon’s bloody corpse and strode across the blood-stained snowscape. The dream ended, and a new one began.

“Of course, you won’t go mad,” Noir’s voice echoed. “I don’t believe this dream will drive you mad either. Nor do I wish it to.”

“Then what are you trying to do…?” Eugene asked through gritted teeth.

“But, even if it doesn’t drive you mad, you hate these kinds of dreams, don’t you?” said Noir.

He especially hated this one.

“A dream you hate is a nightmare, after all,” she said.

The light flickered. Shadows began to spread in the darkening world. He was on a ravaged battlefield. Eugene knew this place. It was Babel, the castle of the Demon King of Incarceration from three hundred years ago.

“O Almighty God of Light, please… protect this foolish lamb after his rest… on his perilous journey… uh… with mercy and lo… love, guide him, and on the path the lamb takes…” Anise stuttered through her prayer before finally breaking into sobs.

Bang, bang!

Molon, whom Eugene had just killed, reappeared. He slammed his head and fists into the ground.

“No, no, no…! Don’t go, don’t leave me behind…!”

Sienna sobbed, rubbing her cheek against the face of the corpse. Beside her knelt Vermouth. His head was bowed, and his expression was hidden, but the slight trembling of his shoulders was visible. Hamel’s vision had been too blurry to see his surroundings clearly when he died, but it seemed Vermouth had shed tears as well.

Eugene closed his mouth and stood silently. Meanwhile, the dream continued.

Sienna screamed. She grabbed Anise by the collar and demanded to know about heaven. When she didn’t receive the answer she wanted, Sienna threw herself on the ground, screaming. Anise too, covered her mouth, fumbling with her rosary as she wept.

“It’s not over yet,” Vermouth said.

He staggered to his feet. It was the first time Eugene had seen his expression so distorted, and his cheeks streaked with tears.

This dream was distinct from the dreams he had seen until now.

It was heavy and somber. If the previous dreams had been mere fabrications, impossible in reality, the current dream was different. For Eugene, this dream was closest to a nightmare.

“There’s no fabrication in this one,” Noir whispered, standing beside Hamel’s corpse. “Three hundred years ago, I was different. I did not confront you directly. In the first place, only the vassals of Incarceration were stationed in Babel at that time.”

Noir chuckled softly while taking a seat beside Hamel’s body.

“But after the battle ended and the Oath was established, I pleaded with the Demon King of Incarceration to grant me the memories of this place. I wanted to see my beloved… heh, I wanted to my Hamel’s end by any means necessary.”

Eugene didn’t interrupt Noir’s explanation.

“Ah, and of course, I cried as well. Just like Sienna Merdein, Anise Slywood, Molon Ruhr, and Vermouth Lionheart. I cried because I was sad and felt regretful of my Hamel’s death.”

Noir was no longer clad in a swimsuit. She now wore a pitch-black dress, her face veiled in black.

“I truly wept. More bitterly than any of your comrades. I gave up eating and drinking. No one could come near me. I secluded myself in my room until the moment the Devildom became Helmuth. While all demons celebrated the victory of Incarceration, I alone mourned you,” Noir said softly.

She lifted her head to look at Eugene.

“Even though we’ve met again in this reincarnation, the sorrow I felt then was real, Hamel. Can you understand that? Can you comprehend the grief of those left behind by your reckless death? Did you ever consider the sorrow that those who remained would have to bear when you died?” Noir asked, sounding mournful.

Eugene silently observed Noir. He saw the corpse of the Stupid Hamel, dead like a fool, and beside it, Sienna kneeling, Anise sobbing, Molon banging his head, and Vermouth standing motionless.

“No,” Eugene uttered a single word. He shook his head. “I cannot understand.”

He gripped Levantein firmly.

“I did not think of it,” he admitted.

This nightmare deeply stirred Eugene’s emotions.

“But so what?” he asked.

The dream trembled.

“The left behind? Emotions? What do they matter to me?” he ridiculed.

Eugene strode forward.

Whoosh!

The flames that spread out burned Molon and Anise.

“At that time, I was dying. I didn’t want to die, but it was inevitable, a situation where I had to die. Do you think I had time to think of others?” he questioned.

He took another step. The flames consumed Vermouth and Sienna.

“Your feelings? What should I care, Noir Giabella? Why should I understand your emotions? What does it matter to me that you grieved?” he spat.

He took another step, but the flames did not advance further. They defied Eugene’s will. Neither Hamel’s corpse nor Noir was engulfed by the flames.

“Hamel.” Noir chuckled as she caressed Hamel’s corpse. “You say such horrible things. Do you really need to say that when I wept over your death?”

Noir rose from the flames. The cold corpse of Hamel rose with Noir’s touch, a hole in his chest. Noir cradled Hamel’s body and spun around in the flames.

“Well, I also liked that horrible aspect of you. Did you know? Hamel, even now, I’m growing fonder of you. My love deepens. Why do you think that is?” she asked.

“It’s because,” Eugene said, his lips twitching slightly, “I think more and more about wanting to kill you.”

“That’s right.” Noir nodded with a bright smile. “But it’s not just that either. You see, I find joy in heading towards our… inevitable end together… with each repetition of these dreams, you grow more endearing to me.”

“You…” Eugene said.

He lifted Levantein high.

Crackle!

Ignition and Prominence flared together, and Levantein began to multiply. Dozens of flames swirled around Eugene.

This chaptr is updated by frёewebηovel.cѳm.

“…are contradicting yourself,” he finished.

The flames created a massive flow, a unified current that gradually spread out while shattering the dream of Babel.

“You said you would show me nightmares, yet you don’t show the real nightmares,” Eugene called out.

Noir stared at him wordlessly.

“The nightmares I truly don’t want to see, you don’t show those,” Eugene continued.

Babel burned down completely, vanishing in flames. Normally, at this moment, the next dream should have begun.

But this time, it didn’t. The dream did not start anew, and only flames remained. In a world still burning, Eugene and Noir faced each other.

“Is it because you feel the same way?” Eugene challenged.

Noir still held Hamel’s corpse. She caressed the cold, stiff body, then quietly pushed it towards the flames.

Whoosh!

Hamel’s body turned to ash in an instant.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

Her face remained veiled, revealing only Noir’s lips to Eugene. It was the smile he had seen countless times — repetitive, mechanical curves.

“That wasteland,” Eugene said, glaring at Noir. “The last of Agaroth and Aria.”

Noir had shown Eugene many dreams. Nightmares, too. But she had never shown him the most overt and deeply penetrating dream.

That wasteland was the true nightmare for both Eugene and Noir. It was the last they had already endured once together.

Noir kept smiling, but Eugene could not detect even a hint of mirth in her constrained smile.

“Hamel,” she said after a brief silence. She slowly shook her head as she continued, “That statement. Do you also consider that wasteland a nightmare?”

“It’s not a pleasant dream,” he responded.

Noir smiled quietly. The repetitive, mechanical curve of her smile transformed.

“That’s right,” she admitted.

The emptied world was suddenly bathed in a crimson sunset. The vast wasteland lay scattered with countless bodies.

Noir, with the red twilight at her back, transformed.

“It cannot be pleasant,” she said.

The War God’s Saint, the Twilight Witch, Aria turned towards Eugene with a wistful smile.