The bonfire crackled and popped. The revelry had ended, and the young boy (the sole male) and the young girls (the many) lay sprawled crookedly all over the campsite.
"Ah Li, spare me... I can't eat anymore... Mmph!"
Their postures were terribly ambiguous, and they occasionally mumbled unintelligible words, clearly immersed in wonderful dreams from which they couldn't extricate themselves.
"Oh my, oh my."
Elysia removed Kiana's little foot, which had been haphazardly draped over her chest, and quietly crawled up from the ground.
She looked left, then right, resting her chin in her small hands.
"Oh no! Sleeping like this will make everyone catch a cold!"
The girl pondered for a moment, and a giant golden exclamation mark flashed above her head. "I know! Let's make everyone sleep together for warmth~♪"
Genius!
Having made up her mind, the Faerie stepped out with her soft, rounded thighs, weaving through the crowd of drunken sleepers.
After moving the final piece, Theresa, into the "Massive Cuddle Pile State" centered around Fuli, she yawned.
"Haaah, so sleepy."
She then snuggled into the boy's arms, selfishly claiming the largest territory for herself, closed her magnificent eyes, and fell into a deep slumber.
"Goodnight, Little Li, everyone..."
After she fell asleep, the Cat-Kallen lying on Fuli's shoulder opened her eyes.
"Tsk, these guys. Just because they know I can't drink and don't have to worry about guard duty, they went crazy."
The Saintess was helpless, but she still divided her attention to control the Hyperion, which had arrived above Crescent Island under the cover of night, lowering shields to monitor the surroundings. She then swept her fluffy tail across Fuli's face.
"Lazy little brother, don't forget to pay Big Sis overtime."
"Achoo!"
In his sleep, the boy's nose twitched from the ticklish cat fur, and he sneezed loudly.
However, what Kallen didn't know was this:
The Hyperion's sensors were indeed sufficient to render most physical and mental invasions in the world ineffective, or at the very least, provide a warning.
But if the opponent had been lurking inside the girls' bodies from the start, taking the opportunity to invade Fuli's body via transcribed Stigmata code, there was no way Kallen could detect it.
Of course, the number of people in the world who could do this without making a sound could be counted on one hand, so there was usually no need to worry about such invasions.
Unfortunately, today's intruder happened to be one of those few capable individuals.
In the chaotic world of dreams, a white-haired beauty strolled leisurely.
Her silky hair, like Mithril, cascaded down to her waist. Her beautiful face and the gentle, virtuous temperament of a loving mother and wife instantly captured one's soul.
Her slightly slender cheeks, skin as white as snow, and those pale azure eyes flowing with wisdom and water-like tenderness all added a sense of holiness and inviolability to her aura.
The starry sky was clear, the night cool as water; the full moon hung like a silver plate, clouds drifting with the wind.
Judging solely by appearance, this super beauty currently strolling through Fuli's dream—one who would make countless men with a penchant for married women tremble and drool—was none other than the previous Holy Maid of the House of Schariac, the strongest S-rank Valkyrie of Schicksal before Durandal: Cecilia Schariac.
But the question remained: Was this really her?
Obviously not.
Beneath that flawless jade-like exterior, under that clean, flowing hair that would make any woman envious, this "Ms. Cecilia" did indeed possess an exquisite, ethereal face that looked like a peerless elf straight out of a fairytale.
However, if one looked closely at this face that could drive all males in the world crazy, it resembled a lifeless, artificial doll.
The corners of her mouth held a quiet smile, but hidden within was a faint, strange sense of detachment and amusement that felt unreachable.
If Cecilia was a beauty as gentle as water, then this person, once that dignified surface was pierced, would reveal only a playfulness and belly-black nature that roamed the mortal world.
Because her true name was Misteln Schariac.
At the end of the Second Eruption, when Cecilia threw the Holy Blood Spear that purified half of Siberia, the natural Stigmata within her reached an unprecedented state.
In the instant she surpassed the Herrscher of the Void, she even briefly bridged all boundaries between Reality and the Imaginary, causing the existence known as the Schariac Stigmata Space to transform into a human-like form and manifest in the world.
This was the origin of Misteln's existence.
simply put: A living Schariac Stigmata Crystal.
Because of this trait, Misteln could bypass the defenses set up by Kallen and, as described in her previous report to World Serpent, boldly intrude into Fuli's dream.
Of course, Misteln knew her own form might not be easily accepted, so she specifically dressed up as the most impressive mother figure in memory—Cecilia.
Her tall, slender figure was clad in a form-fitting black and gold dress with shorts. It highlighted the impressive contours of her chest, outlined her waist that could be grasped with one hand, and accentuated the alluring curve of her hips.
Black thigh-high boots covered her long, straight, voluptuous legs, creating an "Absolute Territory" between the boots and the shorts that displayed a dazzling whiteness.
Disguising herself as Bronya's mother—the equally maternal Alexandra—would have worked too. But as the Stigmata Space crystal born from Cecilia, Misteln was 100% confident in replicating the Holy Maid's appearance perfectly, as long as she suppressed her inner mischief.
With Alexandra, without being able to experience it firsthand, the impersonation would ultimately be lacking.
The reason Misteln was doing this was to melt the boy's lonely heart with "motherly love," thereby obtaining the intelligence she wanted.
Was it too much? Not at all.
Although you lost your parents, you still have me!
I can completely replace your likely-deceased mother and give you the motherly love and affection you haven't felt for years within this fleeting dream, can't I?
As a price, I'll just casually listen to some... insignificant little mutterings in your sleep~
For example, where did this set of special abilities come from?
Or, why can this body easily withstand two or more top-tier Stigmata and remain unharmed?
In her previous report, Misteln had indeed described Fuli's potential to become an artificial Herrscher of Finality.
But after further investigation, she suddenly discovered another problem:
The final reason Dr. Mei of the Previous Era didn't proceed with the artificial Finality plan was the lack of the Herrscher of Origin's Stigmata.
Origin is an extremely special Herrscher; this is a fact no one can refute.
Her birth was an extreme coincidence, as if the humanity born within the Cocoon of Finality over countless cycles had manifested into form.
Therefore, to artificially create a Herrscher of Finality, the all-encompassing Stigmata of Origin must be used as a base.
Only then could the subject accommodate the other twelve top-sequence Stigmata and achieve the power to rival Finality and save everything.
—But what about Fuli?
He had easily accommodated two top-tier Stigmata on his own without the blessing of Origin.
The genes in his body didn't collapse from the conflict of the top-tier Stigmata; instead, they were jumping for joy, planning to accommodate even more.
Is this reasonable? (Is this river?)
This does not conform to the laws of physics. (This is not in the river.)
That was why Misteln had rushed over early at this point in time, attempting to probe the secrets hidden within the boy's body.
Doing so was undoubtedly very dangerous. A huge guy proficient in memory probing once said: Human memory is no different from a sea of stars; never gaze into that sea on a starless night.
"So, I made my move."
Under the bright moonlight, Misteln's silky pale hair fluttered gently with the mischievous wind, looking like a fairy treading on waves.
The dreams of the strong are inherently treacherous and changeable. One wrong step, and the monstrous waves stirred up could leave the intruder with lifelong trauma.
But so what?
The azure eyes reflected the lonely boy curled up in the corner, and the corners of the white-haired beauty's mouth raised in a confident smile.
The fruit of victory, soaked in the sweat of a challenge, is inherently more delicious, isn't it?
The hunter extended her hand to the prey she had been longing for. "Shall we dance?"
Tonight is just the first invitation.
In the days to come, please take care of me, my dear little poor thing~
"..."
Compared to his sunny and cheerful self in reality, the Fuli in the dream looked somewhat noble, yet also somewhat dull.
Facing the hand Misteln extended, the drunken boy looked up groggily, taking in her waist-length pale silver hair and that peerless, flawless face.
"...Cecilia?"
He asked with slurred speech, the veins on the back of his hand seemingly bulging for a split second.
Misteln raised a noble and elegant eyebrow.
The real Cecilia Schariac had sacrificed herself in the Second Eruption in the year 2000. Fuli was only two years old then; theoretically, he couldn't possibly have had a chance to meet her.
But Misteln didn't mind. Modern society was so developed; he probably saw a photo of the Holy Maid somewhere.
"That's right!"
So she nodded with a smile, firing up that motherly instinct she was mimicking to full power.
She half-knelt on the ground, lovingly pulling the boy into her embrace, letting him rest his head on her chest as she began to tell a fairy tale filled with fantasy and whimsy.
No resistance.
No struggle.
As if this were only natural—so smooth that even Misteln herself was caught a bit off guard.
This was ultimately a good thing.
So next, I should read this child's memory and obtain all the intelli, gence—?
SQUELCH!
Misteln looked down, staring at her chest.
As if torn by the razor-sharp teeth of a beast, as if pierced by indestructible claws, massive wounds were spraying spiritual blood outward.
She looked up blankly, meeting the eyes of the "monster" that was tearing into her—eyes that should have been hazy and dull but were now filled with a predatory intent to devour humans.
"Dominance! Dominance! Dominance!"
"BITCH!!!"
Purple lightning illuminated the ice-white scales, and the single wing and dragon tail on his back whipped up a gale.
His image was so twisted yet so glamorous, as if all fantasies belonging to alien species had been kneaded together, blending harmoniously.
Those eyes, red as the residual blood of a setting sun.
That body, bearing the myriad beasts of Brahma.
What happened?
Such a thought didn't even have time to fully form.
"I need to leave!"
Sensing the crisis, Misteln turned abruptly, desperate to escape this dreamscape and return to reality at any cost.
"DIE DIE DIE DIE KILL KILL KILL KILL!!!"
But the monster named Fuli would never give her that chance. He spread his purple-white wing, summoning wind and thunder, and tackled her to the ground. He used his claws to tear, his fangs to bite, his legs to entangle, and his tail to penetrate.
If Misteln turned into a snake or a rat, he turned into a dragon or a hawk.
If Misteln turned into a wolf or a crane, he turned into a tiger or a leopard.
He was a beast, using every part of himself available to ravage, to slaughter, to abuse the peerless beauty before him.
His face was ferocious, as if they were sworn enemies who could not exist under the same sky.
In fact, that was exactly the case.
There were some things Misteln knew.
For example, that Otto, in his madness, had buried many, many Cecilia clones in the underground labs of St. Freya to serve as extraction materials for the Schariac Holy Blood, and as expendable fuel to detonate and create a Holy Blood barrier to delay enemies in critical moments.
But there was one thing Misteln absolutely could not know.
The Herrscher of Dominance (Legion) of the Previous Loop had controlled a portion of those clones in the basement. Not only did she use the Holy Blood to weaken Fuli's physiological attributes and will to resist, but she also sadistically controlled them to join in "wholesome and healthy little games" with the captive boy.
If Misteln had met Fuli in reality, no matter how EMO he felt inside, his rationality and temperament would have been sufficient to completely suppress these instincts, allowing him to chat and laugh with her composedly.
Fuli was just that kind of person: he played when it was time to play, caused chaos when it was time to cause chaos, acted abstract when it was time to be abstract, and got serious when it was time to be serious.
Regrettably, this was a dream.
It was a dream where all instincts were unleashed, unconstrained and wild, completely unbound by rules.
And Fuli himself was dead drunk; he had neither the time nor the ability to suppress his inner self.
"Save... save me!"
Misteln's voice was hoarse as she reached out to the sky again and again, praying for help from some unknown god.
But again and again, she was dragged back into the cage by the roaring Brahma beasts, ravaged until she no longer resembled a human.
Fuli used his life in the previous loop to prove a saying: Effort pales in comparison to talent, and talent crumbles before destiny.
And now, it was the Hare's turn to "enjoy" this truth.
"Please, let me go!"
In her despair, Misteln had tried reverting to her original form to soothe him, or humbly begging for forgiveness.
Unfortunately, none of it worked.
Similar scenarios had long been played out by the Herrscher of Dominance—that collection of all dark thoughts—years ago.
For instance, having a clone that was deeply "communicating" with Fuli suddenly pretend to awaken her original memories. Just as hope filled his heart and his will to resist ignited, she would laugh maniacally and say, "I lied."
Or specifically crafting a Saintess personality based on the memories remaining in a clone, letting that personality and Fuli warm each other in the face of the other clones' mockery, only to tear her to shreds without hesitation in the end.
As for questioning him in the Holy Maid's tone about how he could get hard for her despite his relationship with Kiana; having a clone transform into a tiny Kiana to watch the whole process, tearfully shouting "I hate you, Little Li!" before turning to leave; or shouting "Ich Liebe Dich" while...
One could only say: The predecessors planted the seeds of trauma, and the successors got choked by the vines.
No matter how Misteln performed, in the eyes of the muddled, berserk Fuli, it was just another one of that bitch Dominance's little tricks to toy with him.
And so, the starless, lamenting night passed.
It wasn't until early morning, when the boy in reality rubbed his eyes and groggily woke up, that the finally liberated Misteln fled back to the Stigmata Space in utter wretchedness, silently curling up in a corner to lick her wounds.
Presumably, after such an experience, even someone as audacious as her wouldn't dare to be so reckless again anytime soon, relying solely on her superior abilities.
Meanwhile, back in reality.
Fuli, looking thoroughly refreshed, hadn't even had time to recall that beautiful, curvaceous white figure from his dream—who had felt amazing to the touch—before he was startled awake by the scene before him.
He silently let go of Elysia, who was lying in his arms, and moved Bronya's twin-turbo head off his shoulder.
At the same time, he gently pushed away Mei, who was lying on his lap, and Theresa on the outer edge, then extracted his left hand from inside Himeko's shirt.
Finally, he stood up, allowing the idiot Kiana—who had been serving as a mattress—to see the light of day again. He executed a Void Flash Step and reappeared a hundred meters away.
"Damn it, drinking really does screw things up!"
Everyone's clothes, including Fuli's own, were intact, which meant nothing "entertaining" had happened last night.
But the situation was still terrifying! Thank god he woke up first!