The shriek of the sharp alarm exploded like a stab to the heart of the long silence Dream had grown accustomed to. It was not just a sound; it was a violent vibration that shook the ancient stones of his cell, a metallic scream announcing that the isolation was over, and that the storm Ling Gu had spoken of had finally arrived.
Dream rose, his stone body moving with mechanical fluidity. He ran out, the heavy sound of his footsteps like the beat of war drums on the stone floor. As he ran through the dark lower corridors, chaos seeped down to him from above: the sharp sound of horns, panicked screams from servants, and the distant clang of metal on metal.
`Analysis: 404's voice replied with icy coldness.
Dream emerged into the main palace grounds, and the scene was an inferno of organized chaos. The remaining Gu clan warriors were fighting fiercely against invaders wearing lighter armor who moved like ghosts. The clash of swords, the cries of pain and rage, and the sharp scent of fresh blood that was beginning to overpower the cold smell of winter all painted a portrait of battle.
The moment Dream appeared from the lower corridors, his massive, ten-foot-tall body, the fighting paused for a fraction of a second. All eyes turned toward him, enemy and ally alike, as if a mountain had suddenly sprouted in their midst. Then a shout erupted from among the ranks of the Gu warriors, a cry not of pain, but of savage hope.
"Panyer! The Panyer is here!"
His presence alone was enough to raise their morale, as if an ancient legend had come back to life to fight alongside them.
"Panyer."
A voice came from behind him, calm and decisive. "Why are you here? Aren't you supposed to be at the war?"
Dream turned to face a tall, thin man, his face a map of scars, the most prominent being an old burn scar that ran from his temple to his neck. He held a long, thin sword in both hands, its blade dripping with blood.
"I am Kaito," the man said, his eyes burning with an unyielding will. "And your death will be at my hands."
No more words were needed. The duel began, and the world around them ceased to exist.
Dream charged first. His attack was not random; it was calculated with terrifying precision. He moved like a moving fortress, his steps heavy and steady, striking the ground with a force that made the pebbles tremble. He was applying the first stage of the "Digger" style, the "Earth" stage. He raised the "Ash Blade," the light-absorbing black blade looking like a tear in the fabric of reality, and brought it down in a simple vertical strike that carried overwhelming power.
But Kaito was an ocean of experience. He did not try to meet force with force. His body bent like a bamboo stalk in the wind, flowing around the devastating blow. His own sword slid up to meet Dream's blade at a sharp angle, not to stop it, but to deflect its path. A sharp metallic screech echoed, sparks flew, and Dream's blade embedded itself in the stone floor next to Kaito's foot, creating a small crater.
"Strong," Kaito muttered to himself. "Inhumanly strong. But predictable. He fights as if he's reading from a book."
The deadly dance began. Dream attacked relentlessly, every blow an example of absolute efficiency, aimed at ending the fight with the fewest possible moves. But Kaito was always one step ahead, predicting his attacks and using fluid defenses that made Dream's immense power strike empty air. With every failed attack, frustration built within Dream, not as a human emotion, but as an error in an algorithm that had been working perfectly until now.
This frustration awoke something. Dream felt a strange heat emanating from his secondary heart, and a faint red glow began to pulse in the depths of his consciousness. With it came a new feeling, burning and powerful... pleasure. Was this the pleasure of combat? Was this the happiness that came from standing on the edge of death?
His style changed. It was no longer just cold logic. It became more brutal, more aggressive. His strikes were no longer aimed merely at killing, but at destruction. He slammed the ground with force, sending a wave of cracked pebbles toward Kaito, forcing him to leap backward. Dream was no longer just a fortress; he had become an earthquake.
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Now, it was Kaito who was on the defensive. He parried the blows that had become more chaotic and powerful, feeling the shocks reverberate through his arms. He saw that faint red glow in Dream's gray eyes and realized he was not just fighting a legendary Panyer; he was fighting something that was just waking up, something angry and hungry.
The battle continued, turning into a war of attrition. The smell of sweat, blood, and the ozone from clashing metal filled the air. Dream was a tireless being, his stone body knew no exhaustion. Kaito, however, was human. His movements began to lose some of their fluidity, his breathing grew heavier, and beads of sweat mixed with blood on his face.
Kaito realized he would lose a battle of endurance. In a desperate move, he risked everything. He feigned a stumble, opening a false gap in his defense, trying to lure Dream into a trap—a single, fatal counter-attack.
But Dream did not fall for the trap. His analytical mind saw the trick, but something else, something older and more instinctual, saw the real opportunity. Not in the trap, but in the moment before the trap, the moment Kaito committed to his deceptive move.
Dream surged forward, not with a normal strike, but with a full spinning motion, using all the momentum of his massive body. "Dragon's Scythe Strike."
It was a final, devastating, and majestic move. Kaito could not retreat in time. All he could do was raise his sword in a desperate attempt to block.
The black blade sheared through Kaito's sword as if it were glass and continued its path to cleave a deep diagonal gash across his chest, from shoulder to waist.
Silence fell over the battlefield.
Kaito stood, blood pouring from his wound, but he did not fall. He looked at Dream, a bitter, willful smile on his face. "I... will not die here. Never. The city... still calls for me."
This impossible resilience, this will that defied death, confused Dream's logic.
In that moment, a massive wave of pure wind exploded, striking Dream and knocking him back several meters.
From the sky, a woman descended, her platinum-blonde hair fluttering behind her like a banner of moonlight amidst the bloody chaos. It was Alene.
But Dream's logic saw something different.
Alene landed beside Kaito, catching him before he could fall. "Fall back! Tactical retreat!" she shouted, and three powerful warriors suddenly appeared from the shadows, forming a human wall in front of Dream to give her time to escape.
Dream froze for a moment, torn between Hong-min's memory, which was screaming her name, and his cold logic, which classified her as an enemy. Then, logic won. He had made his decision. Alene was now a target.
He looked at the three warriors standing before him, then let out a cold, artificial laugh. "What a coward, that one named Kaito. Hiding behind a woman."
"Don't you say that about the commander!" one of them shouted, charging at him in a blind rage.
"He's provoking you! Don't go!" his comrade yelled.
But it was too late. In a single, swift motion, Dream decapitated the charging warrior. He caught the rolling head in his other hand, looked into its dead eyes, then squeezed it so hard it exploded in a shower of blood and bone in front of his two shocked comrades.
"Who's next?"
The other two warriors attacked with absolute rage, their attacks predictable and weak. Killing them was easy. All of Dream's focus was on one retreating target. Alene's head.
Suddenly, a deep, ancient sound emanated from beneath the ground. The entire palace shook. Dream felt a massive energy barrier form around them, sealing the sky and trapping them in an invisible cage.
"The machine has been activated!" one of the invaders screamed. "We're cut off! Reinforcements won't get through!"
And from the shadows, four men dressed in black assassin's garb appeared, their auras as powerful as Wěn's. They surrounded Dream from all directions.
"Surrender, Panyer," one of them said. "And we will make your death merciful."
Dream looked at the four assassins as they began to close in. There was no other choice.
"Void, dissolve."
The moment he spoke the words, the sky began to rain.
Hong-min's voice disappeared. The nascent voice of "Dream" disappeared. Everything disappeared. All that remained was a cold, white silence.
A new consciousness awoke. A consciousness that was pure, ancient, and absolute.
A majestic and terrifying aura emanated from his body, an aura that made the rain itself seem to evaporate before it could touch his skin.
The four assassins froze in place, looks of pure shock and horror on their faces.
They realized the monster they had cornered had vanished.
And in its place... stood a god of death.