Stepping deeper into the Golden Slumber, Idris soon heard two men shouting—voices strained with rage and desperation.
"Why?! Why haven't you been assimilated by the Golden Dream?! Your will and strength shouldn't be able to resist this long!"
"Maybe my will alone isn't enough… but even if I lack such resolve, the Life-Returning Pill crafted by the Great Sage grants me a second life."
"Impossible! The Great Sage of the Rainforest?! I won't let you break my resolve! Everything that so-called sage has brought—the peace, the prosperity, the miracle pills—it's all a lie! Only our Golden Dream is real!"
"Samer, you've lost. Not just to me—but to the Great Sage of the Akademiya!"
"Compared to the reality Idris has bestowed upon Sumeru, your Golden Dream means nothing. That is the truth you refuse to face."
"No… I refuse! Ahhhhh!"
Screams echoed through the hollowed dimension.
Idris followed the voices and soon found two men locked in a brutal struggle.
No—the struggle had already ended.
One man had buried his blade deep into the other's chest.
Judging from their wounds, the two had likely fought for an entire day and night.
The victor collapsed onto the pitch-black floor, exhaling a defeated sigh.
"Even with the Great Sage's pill, which bought me a second life… I can't walk out of here on my own."
"Jade… my daughter… forgive me. Your father can no longer stay by your side to see the wonders of the world."
His voice trembled.
Exhausted and bloodied, the man lifted his weapon again—this time to end his own life, preferring death over further torment within this dream-scape prison.
But just as the blade neared his neck—
A calm, amused voice echoed behind him.
"A little girl outside hired me to come fetch you. If you die right now, I'll have no choice but to carry your corpse out."
"Wh—what voice is that? Am I hearing things before death?"
Philos-Banker—Jade's father—stared in disbelief as Idris approached from the shadows.
"Y-you… you are…?"
"Sumeru's Great Sage of the Akademiya. That would be me," Idris said casually.
Philos-Banker froze.
He opened his mouth—perhaps to thank Idris, perhaps to apologize—but Idris had no interest in speeches.
"Save it. I don't need your gratitude. Get out."
With a single motion, Idris grabbed the man by the collar and hurled him outward.
Space itself split open, a tear forming in the Golden Slumber.
The wounded father was flung out of the realm like discarded luggage—right back toward his waiting daughter.
The moment he left, Idris stopped walking.
Because a voice—deep, powerful, and carrying a sovereign presence—echoed through the void.
"I say, Rainforest King… This Golden Dream is still my domain. Isn't it a little rude to remove someone from here without asking my opinion?"
Idris ignored the rebuke entirely and finished tossing Philos-Banker out.
Only then did he turn toward the darkness.
The voice paused—stunned for a heartbeat—before breaking into rich, booming laughter.
"Hahahaha! Truly worthy of being the new King of Sumeru.
You ignore me outright, throwing someone out before I even finish speaking."
Idris replied calmly:
"Why would I listen to someone who hasn't even shown their face?
A voice alone tells me nothing."
"Is that so…? But as the sage of two generations of the God of Wisdom, surely you already know who I am."
"Of course," Idris answered.
"You are the Red King—Ahmar."
"Correct."
Golden sand surged like a storm, swirling into shape before Idris.
When the sands settled, a tall man stood before him—handsome, imposing, his presence nearly on par with Morax himself.
His attire resembled a pharaoh's ceremonial armor, similar in style to Cyno's but infinitely more regal.
Even as a remnant soul, his kingly aura radiated undiminished.
Because the one before Idris was once—
The absolute ruler of the desert. The Red King.
Ahmar smiled.
"It brings me joy to meet you—Sumeru's new king."
"To witness a mortal who has stepped upon the path surpassing gods…
To see one who has inherited a position even I once held…"
Idris respectfully cupped his fist.
"I merely arrived later and inherited the age's momentum.
The legends you left behind in history are beyond count."
Ahmar waved a hand dismissively.
"All of that is in the past. This era belongs to you."
"And my final wish… is to burn bright one last time."
"…Oh?"
Idris narrowed his eyes.
Ahmar's expression grew solemn—and excited.
"So, Rainforest King… I have a single request. No—one last challenge."
"In the desert, there is only one rule for determining the rightful king:
The victor reigns. The defeated kneel."
Golden sand surged again.
Armor shaped from divine essence—True God-Armor—formed over Ahmar's body.
A long spear coalesced in his hand, its aura strong enough to tear the dream realm apart.
The Golden Slumber—normally pitch-black—began to shift into shimmering hues of gold.
Idris recognized it immediately.
This was authentic divine armament, not an imitation like the Fatui's Delusion-powered armor.
Only gods on the level of Morax, Barbatos, Ei, or the strongest Pyro Archon of Natlan had ever borne such armor.
Ahmar was among those rare few.
The Red King pointed his spear at Idris.
"Come, King of Rainforest.
Fight me.
Defeat me.
Surpass me."
Idris chuckled.
"If Nahida were standing here, you wouldn't be saying any of this."
Ahmar snorted.
"Naturally not. Even at my peak, I would not entrust the desert's crown to her.
But you…"
The Red King's eyes shone with admiration.
"You have the right.
You can stand where I once stood.
You can carve your name into history as an eternal king."
Idris exhaled softly.
"Then I'll take that as a compliment."
The air crackled.
Sand began to swirl.
Two kings faced each other—one ancient, one rising.
And Idris smiled.
His first true battle against a fully armed war-god was about to begin.
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