NOVEL NEXT WORLD Chapter 267: Winter's Embrace
Seeing Kiana, Ren's breath hitched for a moment. He quickly composed himself, recognizing this as a manifestation of his mental vulnerability within the illusion.
Although the idea of using the Herrscher of Reason core to resolve the aftereffects of his plan had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, he had made thorough preparations. Only those chosen by the Theater of the Domination could enter the illusion.
Kiana was currently at the concert venue; she couldn't possibly be here. This figure was merely a phantom created by his inner demons, a reflection of his perception of Kiana.
Realizing this, Ren relaxed slightly. If it was just an illusion, he didn't need to avoid her like before.
"So, if I kill her, I can resolve…"
"Ren…!" Before he could finish the thought, a weight slammed into him. The running girl collided with him, wrapping her arms tightly around him.
Caught off guard, Ren lost his balance, and they both tumbled into the thick snow, sending a flurry of snowflakes into the air.
Ren frowned slightly, wanting to push Kiana away. But as he placed his hands on her shoulders, a muffled sob escaped her, and warm tears soaked his shirt.
His hands froze mid-air, then fell limply to his sides. Ren lay still in the snow, letting the girl cry against his chest.
He looked up at the gray sky, watching two winter birds fly past, their figures tracing a path across the 1951 Berlin sky. The falling snow blurred his vision.
"A phantom is just a dream. When time runs out, the dream will end. Until then, there's no harm in indulging in it for a while."
…
"This is just his dream?"
"Yes, a dream shared by 300,000 souls. He likely doesn't know you've entered the illusion, so he might mistake you for a figment of his own imagination."
Kiana didn't immediately trust the man, eyeing him warily.
"Tell me your purpose. I don't believe you simply pulled me into this illusion out of kindness. If you could control it, you wouldn't need to tell me any of this."
The blue-haired man paused for a moment, then replied with a self-deprecating tone, "You misunderstand. I just want to survive, along with these 300,000 other consciousnesses. His power is too great; I have no means of resisting him.
When he wakes up, our existence will be erased from this world. And he will completely forget about you."
"..." Kiana remained silent, but a flicker of panic flashed in her eyes.
"Besides, it wasn't me who pulled you into this illusion, but yourself. You should have remnants of his power within you. Think back. Have you ever seen anything like a theater, or threads?"
"A theater?" Memories flooded back, and Kiana immediately recalled the shattered Theater of the Domination in her mindscape. She had assumed it was a construct of her own subconscious, but it was Ren's?
Wait, when she was unconscious, her mindscape had been the theater. If that was Ren's power, it meant he had helped her without her knowledge?
The man, noticing the shift in Kiana's expression, smiled knowingly, playing along with her train of thought. "Indeed. He's still alive, and he's saved you more than once."
"If you want to find him, your best bet is through this illusion…"
Crack.
The man's smile froze. His eyes widened as a sharp spear of Void energy stopped a hair's breadth from his forehead.
He wasn't looking at a girl swayed by her feelings for Ren but a Kiana with icy eyes.
"You're trying to use me to disrupt his plans so you can escape his control, aren't you?"
"..." Tiny cracks appeared in the fragile mindscape. Kiana's Herrscher of the Void power rendered the scarf-wearing, blue-haired man almost immobile.
"Welt Joyce, the First Herrscher." Kiana enunciated each word, her voice filled with a chilling killing intent, like a returning queen.
Joyce's eyes, reflecting Kiana's image, lost their amusement, his expression returning to its usual calmness.
"It seems I was mistaken. You're far more perceptive than I anticipated." With a sigh of what seemed like infinite weariness, Joyce looked at the golden markings in the girl's eyes, tugging at the scarf around his neck. "With a Herrscher like you fighting for humanity, perhaps you truly can defeat the Honkai."
He stepped forward, allowing the spear of Void energy to pierce his forehead. His illusory form dissolved into pale blue motes of light, fading away along with his final words.
"Remember, if you truly want to help him, your best course of action is to avoid arousing any suspicion, to peacefully accompany him through this dream."
…
Inside a simple, rundown house, a fire crackled in the hearth, the flickering orange light illuminating Ren's face, giving him a slightly bewildered look.
"Feeling any better?" A cup of warm water, its steam rising, was offered to his lips.
He turned and saw Kiana's gentle smile, the scene feeling surreal.
So this was how he perceived Kiana in his subconscious, a nurturing, almost domestic figure?
"Thank you." Ren accepted the cup, his voice raspy.
He hadn't expected to be so vulnerable within the illusion, like an ordinary human. Lying in the snow for half an hour had taken its toll; he had developed a fever.
Fortunately, Kiana, with her experience from her time on the streets, had not only found an abandoned house but also gathered firewood. Using the warmth of the hearth and some melted snow, she had managed to keep Ren warm, preventing him from dying of hypothermia on the first day.
The blizzard outside intensified, the wind howling against the fragile windows, sending tendrils of cold air into the house, making the flames in the hearth flicker.
Ren, his clothes soaked through, shivered, letting out a small sneeze.
"Take off your clothes. I'll dry them for you." Kiana blushed slightly, looking at Ren's clothes, soaked with her tears, which had already begun to freeze in the sub-zero temperature.
She knew her tears were partly to blame for his fever. Kiana took off her jacket and offered it to Ren, helping him out of his wet shirt.
After a moment of hesitation, Ren accepted her offer. It was just an illusion constructed by his own mind; no one else was here.
The sky gradually darkened, and the temperature continued to drop. The fire in the hearth burned brightly.
In this winter of 1951, the two figures drew closer than ever before.