Hours after what one might declare a hard-won victory, Lena and Regan sat across from each other, staring into the quiet dance of crimson-orange flames. The fire flickered gently, casting long shadows on the broken ground, its warmth a small comfort in the vast cold of the Dream Realm.

Lena, whose body had endured the brunt of the battle, was already back to her full strength, healed almost completely thanks to her abnormal design. Regan, on the other hand, sat with a slight hunch, his recovery much slower. His wounds were bandaged, his aura dim, but his eyes were alert and watchful.

The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable. It was the silence of two people who had seen death wear a thousand faces and lived to speak of it.

In that silence, Lena couldn't stop thinking. Her thoughts kept drifting back to the Nightmare. It had taken on a familiar form—a woman Lena couldn't quite recognize, but somehow felt… close.

She had never met her before, that much she was sure of. And yet, there was a resemblance in her movements, the swordplay—all of it whispered of something half-remembered, buried too deep to reach.

"There are so many people in this world," she murmured under her breath, eyes fixed on the fire. "She could be anyone."

And yet…the fighting style mirrored her own in disturbing ways. Too much to be a coincidence. Was she mirroring someone from House Feng?

Then there was the title, Witch of Chaos. That was new.

It was the first time she'd heard anyone refer to her that way—and the Nightmare had spoken it with certainty, not as a guess, but as a truth.

'Witch can mean many things,' Lena thought, 'but why Chaos?'

She replayed the Nightmare's cryptic words in her head.

"For chaos to reign, the order of the heavens must first break."

The phrase echoed like a prophecy.

'The order of the heavens….'

That had to be about the Servants, the so-called divine rulers of the current Divine Realm. Their dominion over realms had long remained unchallenged. But if chaos were to come—true chaos—then their rule would have to fracture. However, was Chaos just a concept? Or was it a being? Or a force waiting to awaken?

'The answers are here,' Lena concluded. 'They have to be. The Dream Lord didn't call me for no reason. '

For the past two years, Lena had taken it upon herself to understand the divine architecture of the world. She had read forbidden texts and visited destroyed shrines from the old world. She knew that the great gods had servants who almost matched them in strength. These primordial beings were a myth to most humans. However, to the clans of the world, these Primordial Beings were very real, and the Divine Realm was currently their territory.

One of those Primordial beings was the Everlight, the same being who had been inside her body for only a brief moment during the Crimson Tower subjugation, and that single moment had redefined everything she understood about her powers and her world in general.

That moment had reawakened her soul. Her Zenshi now glowed almost pure white, mirroring the icy tone of her long hair. She had reached the apex of the Third Gate, and as far as she knew, Lena Feng was now among the strongest Third Gate Ascenders in the world.

But, despite the gifts the Everlight had left behind, it had also left a mark—one that never faded. She could still hear the whispers. Lena could also still see her in the dreams that grew heavier and stranger each night. Good sleep had long abandoned her, and what remained was paranoia, curiosity, and a mind slowly unraveling under divine echoes. Her obsession with the Divine Realm had deepened to a point where it was getting worse for her mental health.

Nevertheless, she wanted to know why someone like Everlight had descended that day. Who did she want to get rid of? Who was the threat that day?

A voice broke her thoughts.

"How close do you think we are to the Astral Castle?"

Regan was staring at the violet sky above them, the stars gleaming like shards of crystal in an endless ocean. His eyes reflected a quiet awe, an emotion rarely seen on someone who had lived in a world after the Fall.

No one on Earth had seen such beauty since the Collapse.

Lena pulled her gaze from the fire and lifted her chin toward the heavens of the Dream world.

"Closer than you think," she said at last. "That thing, the Nightmare…said we passed the Trial of Hearts. We're not far now. And I don't think a castle in the sky is easy to miss."

Regan let out a soft groan as he shifted his posture, one hand massaging his shoulder. "Maybe. But the Dream World is filled with illusions. That Nightmare used illusions to fight, remember?"

"Near-perfect illusions," Lena corrected, her voice thoughtful.

She remembered the attacks clearly. Its phantoms moved without energy signatures. And yet, they caused actual damage that distinguished them from real illusions. Were they illusions in the first place?

"That's the Dream Lord's Aura," she continued. "It's not just illusions, but conceptual attacks. Fighting against his Nightmares is battling a reality shaped by his will."

Regan was silent for a moment and asked, "…How powerful is Sir Aaron exactly?"

Lena paused before answering. Her tone dropped to a quiet hum. "If I had to guess… There isn't a single Ascender in the Mortal Realm who can beat him."

Her words lingered. She wasn't being dramatic. She was being honest. There was greater strength out there. She knew that now, thanks to Storm Rider, who had proved it during the battle against the Sovereign years ago.

Lena's main goal was to uncover the secrets and ascend beyond the Fourth Gate.

Regan blinked, visibly surprised by her earlier statement. He shook his head in quiet disbelief.

"That's impossible," he argued. "Having Authority over a realm outside the Mortal or Divine Realm doesn't make you invincible—it just makes you powerful within that realm."

Lena didn't respond immediately. Instead, her lips curled faintly in amusement.

'Poor little bastard,' she thought. 'You have no idea how little you truly know about our worlds.'

She could've corrected him. Could've shattered his beliefs and given him truth like a knife to the ribs—but she didn't. Instead, she kept her expression unreadable, choosing ambiguity over clarity. The facts would confuse him, and confusion isn't something she needed from him right now.

The truth was, most of her memories from the Crimson Tower were hazy—fragments of pain and fire. She didn't know why no known Ascenders had reached the Fifth Gate. She didn't know who decided that humanity wasn't ready for this truth.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"He doesn't have Authority," she finally said. "He has control over a section of the Dream World known as The Dreaming. And through it… he spreads his power like roots into every other world."

She first paused and turned to Regan. "Do you know what the Dreaming is?"

Regan perked up. Clearly, he'd been waiting for this part of the conversation. He reached for his notebook—one lined with careful notes and scribbled annotations—but paused as his curiosity overtook the need to reference.

"I do," he said quickly. "The Dreaming is the place where humans were once taken during sleep, at least, according to older scriptures. But after the Fall, the Dreaming became unstable. They say it became the graveyard of the Heart Goddess, attracting power-hungry beasts and corrupted deities alike. To protect humanity, a team of elite Ascenders with an affinity for dreams traveled to the Dreaming and severed its connection to the Mortal World."

Lena raised her brows, almost impressed. "Wow. That's one hell of a textbook answer if I've ever heard one."

Regan flushed slightly but didn't back down. "It's accurate, isn't it?"

"Yes," she admitted, voice softer now. "Most of it, at least. What the books don't say is that the Astral Vigil Sect is located in the Dreaming. And Aaron Phillips was one of the Ascenders sent to the dreaming to sever that link. While there, it is rumored that he discovered the corpse of a god buried deep in the Astral Castle."

Her eyes flickered toward the sky. "They say he saw the truth of his concept through that corpse and attained something no mortal could comprehend."

Regan leaned forward slightly, eyes widening. "What was it?"

Lena smirked a little before leaning too and whispering, "A Glimpse into Creation..."

"Of course," she added, "that's all myth. But it is said that by the time he found the Astral Vigil, he was only a second gate ascender with a high affinity for Dreams. He only became a fourth gate ascender recently. And yet….before that happened, he had already started his own clan and a sect that operates here in this realm and assists the mortal realm.

"Aaron Phillips was already mighty as a second gate user. No known ascender is stronger than him, in my opinion. Not even my mother."

Regan sighed, overwhelmed, his voice reduced to two quiet words:

"I see."

His red eyes remained fixed on the flames. So much had unraveled today—too much. The Nightmare's illusions, its overwhelming strength, and the subtle realization that all his years of discipline and training had barely kept him alive.

"All of that is alleged," Lena added gently. Then, as if reading his mind, she continued, "And don't feel bad for getting defeated. The Nightmare was supposed to win. It was stronger than both of us… because it was an extension of someone far beyond us."

She gave him a slight smirk. "On the bright side, we're not dead."

"…We can die any time," he replied quietly. "You and I are just good at surviving."

Lena's expression shifted, sober and thoughtful. "The candidates Lord Aaron picked aren't perfect. I'd wager some of them are long dead by now. You and I are not good at surviving; we just don't accept death that easily."

She stood up, brushing dirt off her armor. Most of it was still intact. Aside from some lingering mental fatigue, she was in one piece—and could still march if needed.

"Can you teleport?" she asked, glancing down at him.

Regan shook his head. "My second gate is still recovering."

"Well…I guess we'd better get moving before something notices there's free food here." She extended a hand and helped him up.

Together, they stamped out the last flickers of the flame and dismantled their temporary camp.

Once they were sure all evidence of their presence was wiped out, Lena and Regan both poured their essence into a glowing compass-like relic imbued with ancient runes. Its needle pulsed once, then spun, before settling on a direction.

Without a word, they began moving.

The dial led them through a region of grasslands so dense the vegetation towered above them, each blade glowing softly under the starlight. It was beautiful, surreal even, like walking through the dream of an alien world.

Strange creatures stirred in the distance. They were like luminous silhouettes with no names, but many eyes. Thankfully, they didn't approach when they sensed the Zenshi and the battle-worn presence of the two Ascenders. They just faded into the vegetation and disappeared.

Lena walked ahead, quiet and alert. Regan kept close, his hands near his side-blades. When they finally emerged from the otherworldly grasslands, the terrain changed abruptly.

The mountains that greeted them were jagged and cruel, cut from dark stone that shimmered faintly with star-ore. The paths looked carved by human hands, though many sections were half-collapsed or purposely broken. It was clear this was a part of the trial, too.

Their journey became more dangerous from that point on. Rogue monsters hid in crevices. Strange spectral wraiths occasionally wandered by. Lena dealt with most threats with raw power. Regan, though recovering, used his spatial control to bend escape routes into place and avoid conflict when needed.

The deeper they went, the more evidence of prior candidates became visible: broken weapons, scattered gear, and streaks of blood leading into the dark.

Then, they saw the bodies. Two mangled forms lay across the trail.

Regan slowed first while Lena approached them. In her lifetime as an ascender, Lena had already seen a lot of corpses. Death was constant for humans. It always had victims, whether in the Mortal, Divine, or Dream.

She recognized one of the two faces instantly; he belonged to her clan. Eliot, a rising talent who impressed many masters across the sects. Maybe that's why they thought he would make a great addition to the fourth gate ascenders in the world.

To think he's already dead… it just shows how dangerous this world truly is.

His partner, another young man, was missing his head—cleanly torn off, likely bitten.

Their bodies were decomposing fast, and the stench clung to the air like rot-soaked cloth. Regan didn't say a word as he helped Lena bury them. He understood. In these trials, death wasn't rare. Strength didn't guarantee survival—it was just one tool among many.

"Let's move," he said, eyes fixed on the path ahead. "Whatever did this might still be up there. We need to stay alert."

"I can turn into fog. We could use that to trick it," Lena offered calmly.

"And if it's immune to illusions?" Regan glanced her way, then summoned his forged weapon, a sleek silver revolver etched with runes, forged by the Atlas Family. A gun made specifically for magic creatures.

"Then we kill it, of course."

Without another word, Lena dissolved into a thick, icy mist that coiled around Regan, concealing him. The temperature plummeted, frost forming across nearby rocks. But Regan, being an ascender, endured the cold.

Several minutes passed in tense silence. Then he noticed movement within the fog—slow at first, but then the ground began to tremble slightly.

"It's here," Lena's voice echoed through the mist. "Switch to plan B."

Regan immediately raised his gun and aimed. Then, as if guided by instinct, he sidestepped—just seconds before something tore through the fog, slamming into the space he'd just vacated.

In a flash, he teleported behind the assailant and fired.

Grrrrrrr!

The creature let out a guttural snarl as it turned toward him. The fog thinned, revealing more of its massive frame—hairy and thick, like a mountain ape. Its black eyes gleamed with malice, and its long fangs jutted past its lower jaw. Its body was the size of a sumo wrestler, but the arms were disproportionate—thin until the elbows, then swollen with monstrous muscle down to the oversized fists.

Pew! Pew!

Regan didn't hesitate. He infused the revolver with zenshi and opened fire. The enchanted bullets tore through the air—some ricocheted harmlessly off its skin, while others punched into flesh and drew thick, black blood.

But it didn't move.

Instead, the creature kept its focus on the fog, which was now releasing gentle flakes of snow. As the snow touched its thick hide, patches of ice began to form across its body, thin at first, then quickly solidifying.

The creature paused, clearly intelligent enough to sense what was happening. Its black eyes narrowed. It lifted both fists slowly, like it was preparing to strike—not a target, but the very air.

A strange tension gripped the space around them. Qi—raw, violent essence—gathered in its fists until they glowed with pulsing light.

Then.

Boom!

The creature slammed its fists forward, and a deafening sonic blast exploded outward, mixed with concentrated essence. Everything in its path disintegrated on impact. The ground cracked. The trees bowed violently.

The fog was ripped apart like paper in a storm. And Lena appeared in the aftermath, stumbling forward from the remains of her shattered veil of mist.

Blood dripped from her nose. She hadn't expected the creature's sonic blast to reach her intangible form—something that was supposed to be rare, impossible even, unless a foe was using a weapon forged with special properties.

But this beast didn't have a weapon. Just its fists.

While still on the ground, Lena watched as the ape charged. Its large hands outstretched, ready to crush her. She reacted in time, slamming her palm into the ground and calling forth a barrier of jagged frost between them.

Crack!

The ape's claws struck the ice wall, splintering it but failing to break through.

Regan, keeping his distance, raised his revolver and fired again, this time aiming directly at the creature's face. More of the bullets ricocheted off its essence barrier, but a few slipped through, piercing its flesh and leaving bloody holes in its thick hide.

The beast grunted in pain and snapped its head toward Regan, fury dancing in its black eyes. It turned away from Lena, preparing to lunge.

CRACKOOM!

Suddenly, the darkness of the night was torn apart by a blinding flash of white lightning.

The bolt fell from the sky like a divine judgment, striking the ape in the center of its chest and erupting into a brilliant explosion of electricity, flesh, and blood.

The monster had been reduced to chunks of steaming meat and scorched bone.

The ground shook in the silence that followed.

Lena blinked through the fading light, slowly pushing herself back to her feet.

"…what in the hell was that?"

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