[A/N: Boys, dw, the 2nd NM isn't going to be too long, similar to the first NM, I hop. But damn, Did I use my mind for it. I like this chapter.]
___________________
Time passed in peace.
Contrary to Asher's expectations, the Sovereign never came. Days slipped into weeks, weeks into months. He played with the children, helped the villagers, and listened to their laughter echo through the golden fields.
It was… nice. Too nice.
For the first time in what felt like ages, Asher found something resembling peace — fragile, fleeting, but real enough to make his chest ache. After everything he had endured, this small corner of serenity felt almost sacred.
But the longer he stayed, the clearer it became. This wasn't real.
He couldn't sense his spell, his soul sea, or even Dahlia's presence. At first, that terrified him. He spent his early days here in quiet panic, trying to reach out, to feel something. But by the fourth month, the worry dulled. He still had his strength, his body, his mind — that was enough.
He understood now. This illusion was crafted like the one Nephis faced in her first nightmare — a world so gentle it begged to be believed. A dream that whispered: stay.
And part of him wanted to. To live among the laughter, to watch the children grow, to let the pain of his old life fade into a distant haze.
But unlike Nephis… Asher lacked her courage. He couldn't shatter the dream. He couldn't burn himself awake.
And he didn't have to.
**
"Folrs! You're running too fast!" Asher called out, pushing through the crowd.
"Haha! Stoney, you're too slow!" Ari laughed, darting past him as they chased the boy weaving between the market stalls.
Asher grimaced. "That brat—"
Then everything stopped.
A flare of soul essence seared his vision. His instincts screamed. He grabbed Ari and dropped low, stone arm shielding her. His aspect was sealed, but his attributes still worked in the illusion. So, [Spectral Sight] still burned his vision.
The first thing came was the sound.
A sharp, splitting pitch that ripped through the air.
Ari screamed under his arm as Asher gritted his teeth. He couldn't feel pain — not exactly — but the ringing in his skull was unbearable.
Then came the wind. A violent gust pushing dust up in the air.
And finally, silence… before the world was torn apart.
The stalls. The homes. The people.
Everything above waist height was gone.
An invisible line had sliced through the town. Heads, roofs, and limbs fell like rain. Blood misted the air. Children screamed — the only ones short enough to survive the cut — their cries echoing through the broken streets.
Ari trembled beneath him, sobbing quietly. She was alive. Barely scratched. Asher released her slowly, staring at the devastation around them. The market. The laughter. The warmth.
His home for the past year — gone.
"Folrs!"
The scream tore through the haze. Asher turned to see Ari kneeling beside a small body crushed under rubble. She shook him again and again, her cries cracking into raw, broken wails.
Asher's fingers twitched. That feeling — that hollow, sick weight in his chest — he knew it too well.
"Don't leave a single living thing in the town!" a voice bellowed.
His vision shook. Soldiers flooded into the streets, blades glinting, faces blank. The screams of children began to vanish one by one.
Asher stepped forward, placing himself in front of Ari. His hand closed around a bent metal pipe lying in the blood-soaked dirt.
"Stay behind me, Ari."
The humans charged — ordinary soldiers. Mundane.
Killable.
Asher hurled the pipe with all the strength his stone body could muster. It cracked through a soldier's skull like porcelain. Blood sprayed. He snatched a sword from a fallen hand and swung — once, twice, again. Flesh split. Bones shattered. The stench of iron filled the air.
"Stoney!"
The shout turned him cold.
He spun — a soldier had Ari by the hair, knife pressed against her throat. Another mace slammed into Asher's back, ruby dust spraying from the impact. He stumbled, reaching out.
"Help…" Ari whimpered, kicking weakly. The soldier's hand shook as he drew the blade across her neck. The cut wasn't clean — just deep enough.
"...S–Stoney…"
"No!" Asher's roar shook the air — too late.
Her small body went limp. Blood gushed, pooling around her feet. Asher fell to his knees, catching her before she hit the ground.
"A–Ari…"
He cradled her head, stone fingers trembling, holding her as the spasms slowed. Her eyes glazed over — a faint reflection of the divine light above.
His chest felt hollow. His heart burned. He couldn't cry — stone couldn't cry — so he screamed. A guttural, wordless, human sound that cracked through the silence.
And then — crunch.
A mace slammed into his head.
The world blurred, sound folding inward.
Before the darkness swallowed him whole, Asher heard it for the first time.
A sound that he would never forget for the rest of his life.
A snap.
***
"Wonderful! Simply wonderful!"
The voice boomed through the void like thunder rolling across glass. "Mirage truly outdid herself this time. Such imagination! Such artistry! A delightful gift, dear sister!"
Asher stirred — chains clanked, heavy and cold against his limbs. His body refused to move.
"Lord Nether!" another voice called out, cautious and trembling. "Your presence, even through an avatar, might be too much for the stone creature!"
There was a wet splatter. Then silence.
"I," said the cold voice, "know my creations better than anyone."
Asher blinked. Slowly, painfully, his vision cleared — only to shatter again as his left eye cracked like glass. The pain didn't even register; the terror drowned it out.
He looked up.
What stood before him wasn't a man. Not really. Its form shifted — blurred, unfinished, like reality itself refused to capture it. Yet its presence was undeniable, pressing down on him like the weight of the sea.
"Oh… so Bilaw wasn't entirely wrong," the voice mused, its tone almost curious. "Perhaps I ended his pitiful existence for nothing."
The figure drifted closer. A suggestion of a hand hovered over Asher's chest, and with it came a suffocating dread.
"Let's see, then." The voice deepened, almost gleeful. "Show me what emotions my creation can muster."
Asher's vision began to fade — colors bleeding into darkness.
"Next illusion," the daemon whispered, his voice echoing from everywhere and nowhere at once.
"Show me."
A pause.
"My creation."
***
"Ah—!"
Asher jolted upright, gasping for breath. His heart pounded as the memories came flooding back — the screams, the blood, Ari's fading voice—
"WHY!"
The cry tore from his throat before he could stop it. He clutched his face, shaking.
"Why… why…"
Tears flowed. Only the sound of his ragged breathing filled the air.
Then another memory surfaced — Nether.
That voice. That presence.
His jaw locked. His whole body trembled.
"Dude… are you okay?"
The words cut through the haze like a drop of cold water.
Asher froze, lowering his hands. The world around him began to take shape — a tent, dimly lit by a swaying lamp. Rough fabric walls. The smell of steel and sweat.
He was lying on a cot. Human — or something close. Flesh instead of stone. Skin the same dark tone as Ari's.
He looked up. Around him stood several people, their faces lined with fatigue and curiosity. Soldiers, by the look of their gear.
For a moment, no one spoke. The lamp creaked softly, and Asher's thoughts whispered the truth he didn't want to face.
Illusions.
These were illusions.
He forced a small, shaky smile. "Ah… yeah. I just— had a nightmare." His voice came out quiet, distant, almost hollow.
The soldiers laughed, the tension breaking.
"You really scared me, Folrs!" one of them said.
"Yeah, man, thought you were dying or something!" another added.
Folrs.
The name hit him like a blade.
His breathing quickened again. He stared at them — at their smiles, their warmth, their life.
All illusions.
He couldn't let himself believe it.
He couldn't let himself care.
Not again.
He clenched his fist, nails digging into his palm.
He couldn't bear that pain a second time.