1-Second Invincible Player in the Game

146. The Skull of the Phantom Steed (4)

I knew a bit about Irte’s background.

He had approached humans with goodwill, offering proposals, only to be betrayed by the king of Belham at the time, nurturing a thirst for revenge.

Under normal circumstances, such memories would linger as trauma.

However, Irte regarded the events that transpired here as far more horrific memories.

As we neared the entrance, Leana spoke.

“This building… it feels somewhat familiar.”

“Perhaps it’s from the textbooks.”

As a place that trains Pathfinders, the materials contained illustrations of ancient ruins and architectural styles, along with detailed explanations for education.

“So, is this a ruin?”

“Seems so.”

As I replied, Leana scrutinized the building closely.

Unlike the illustrations in the textbooks, the stone floor and walls were smooth, devoid of even a hint of moss.

The arched ceiling and statues, without a single crack, appeared almost brand new.

“But it doesn’t seem like it was built long ago, does it?”

Indeed, the maze in Irte’s memory was from a time when people had lived here.

This is a truth that can only be grasped by coming directly to the latter part of the scenario.

In that time, the ravages of the years would have forced one to emerge into a dilapidated building.

Thus, the age of Irte was so advanced that it was beyond estimation.

I nodded in response to Leana’s question, without a hint of surprise.

“That could be.”

“Ah, I see. That could be true.”

Hmm, even if I realized it was a dream, my perception remained clouded.

I repeated the same words as if casting a spell.

“It could be so.”

Leana nodded with her murky eyes.

“Yes, it could indeed be so.”

Simple, yet comforting.

I stepped forward, crossing the threshold.

In that moment, a presence stirred, and Leana clutched her collar.

“Hursel, there’s someone here.”

“No need to worry. They are not thieves.”

I walked with purpose toward the heart of the temple.

Even so, they did not seem to notice our presence.

They were but replayed memories, no different from holograms.

“Let us be on our way.”

As I walked calmly, Leana followed closely, sword raised, ever vigilant.

At the center, there were stairs.

At the bottom knelt a man with bat wings, gazing up the steps. It was Irte.

He spoke with a voice full of yearning.

“Ah, Haona. O King, your loyal servant, I, Irte, shall surely protect your precious things.”

I lifted my gaze.

I could not see the face of the king that Irte spoke of.

He lay upon the bed at the top of the stairs, his face shrouded in a white veil.

Curiosity stirred within me, yet it was not something I could touch, so I would not see his face.

However, I could see the face of the woman standing beside him, smiling as if in mockery.

Leana, too, had seen her, uttering the name into the air.

“Dorothian…”

To be precise, the Dorothian of the future.

Her makeup was a touch heavier, and her hair was styled in a round bun at the back.

Dorothian looked down at Irte and spoke.

“That’s because your method is flawed, isn’t it?”

“Silence, woman! Your Majesty, please do not heed the words of that wicked woman. I beg you, I implore you.”

As Irte’s voice rose, a frail whisper emerged.

From the way the white veil stirred, it was clear that the man lying in bed had spoken.

“Enough, Dorothian. Irte.”

Even I, a stagnant soul, could not discern the identity of that man.

Moreover, whenever the future Dorothian appeared, it was always tied to the main scenario.

He certainly seemed to be an important figure, yet this part remained a riddle.

As I mulled over my thoughts, the veiled man continued.

“And Irte, as Dorothian claims, your method is indeed wrong.”

In response to the man’s words, Dorothian beside him smirked with a hint of malice.

“Is that all? Your values are wrong too. The Mine can never embrace humanity. You see everything through an extreme lens, even with the slightest deviation.”

Dorothian said this, gently caressing the man’s jawline.

To anyone watching, she was the enchantress who beguiled the king and devoured the kingdom whole.

It was a moment when Irte, who appeared only as a loyal subject, seemed a touch pitiable.

“Am I wrong?”

As Irte attempted to speak, Dorothian scoffed.

“The moment you sincerely believed in that insane plan, you were already mistaken. You are merely a dreamer. If entrusted to you, surely you would ruin everything.”

Irte gritted his teeth and replied.

“…You won’t know until you try, Dorothian!”

“Wake up from your dreams. Foolish Irte. If this world were one you could save, would I have any reason to come here at all?”

Irte’s face began to twist into a fierce grimace.

Perhaps weary of their loud exchanges, the veiled man let out a deep sigh and said,

“Then, let it begin, Dorothian.”

No sooner had he finished speaking than Dorothian’s hand pierced through the man’s belly.

Thud!

Irté’s eyes shrank.

“Oh, my King!!”

He soon became a mask of sorrow, hurtling toward Dorothian. Tears dripped from his contorted face.

“How dare you, you wretched thing!!”

Dorothian smiled slyly at the distressed Irté.

Then, she lifted one foot.

“Impudent Irté. You know, there’s something oddly endearing about you?”

The sharp heel of Dorothian’s shoe plunged into Irté’s brow.

It was a kick of lethal precision.

“Gah!”

Irté’s eyes rolled back.

His wings lost their strength, and Irté plummeted.

As he tumbled down the stairs, Dorothian began to weave her spell.

“Well then, sleep well for a long time, Irté.”

As Irté’s eyes began to flutter shut, the characters faded into a dim light.

What remained was the temple and Dorothian’s infuriating smirk.

“Ha ha, to think the Dreaming Demon is falling asleep—how amusing!”

Irté’s memories ended there. With the master of trauma now asleep, there was no explanation for why Dorothian had plunged a dagger into the man’s belly.

The only guess was that she was trying, in her own twisted way, to escape ruin through time travel.

And Irté, too, had plans, but he had succumbed to a deep slumber due to Dorothian’s interference.

Perhaps he appeared pitiable enough that Leana murmured softly.

“Somehow, he seems like a rather sad demon…”

“Indeed. Just now, Dorothian looked more like the true demon.”

“Absolutely, she seemed like a truly wicked woman.”

Dorothian grew more malevolent with each passing year.

A fact one must heed if they wish to live long.

* * *

He had slept for far too long.

When he finally opened his eyes, the king had passed, a victim of the villainess’s schemes.

I know not the reason, but the race known as the Main has vanished, and the land they once inhabited has come to be called the Maekyeong.

Yet, for the sake of their mission, they sought out humans, learned the manners of the modern age, and extended their hands to them, only to be betrayed by the king of Belham.

Irté sat in a chair, gnawing at her nails.

‘A king is the title of the most splendid among us. Yet, how dare that wretched insect claim kingship? How dare a mere bug interfere with my mission…’

As she recalled the moment when her limbs were severed, tears of blood flowed, and her fists clenched tightly. In her anguish, her nails pierced her skin. Blood trickled from the wounds that had once been.

‘…First, revenge must come.’

After her limbs had been taken, a long time had passed, and she could no longer punish the one responsible.

But for the Main, betrayal is a sin heavy enough to warrant a collective punishment.

Fortunately, his descendants still lived.

‘It wouldn’t be a bad idea to execute his bloodline as an example and make Belham my stronghold.’

Irté considered this a rather rational decision.

Revenge is one thing, but humans are foolish creatures, incapable of understanding the futility of appeasement.

Though it diverged from the ways of the king she had served, even now, subjugation through fear remains a potent tool.

‘My king… I may defy your will, but this too springs from my loyalty. I shall accept my punishment in death with grace.’

Irté steadied her heart and recalled the foretold doom and the prophetess Dorothian.

‘Dorothian. I know not where you are, but wherever you may be, I shall ensure you see clearly. I shall prove that my methods are not in error.’

Though she was a woman of loathing, as she had said, the lifespan of the world was drawing to a close.

This had been foreseen since the day the king fell ill.

With a heart ablaze with purpose, Irté rose from her seat.

“We must hurry.”

For Irté, who had lived through endless time, this moment would pass like a fleeting breath.

“I shall turn the entire world into a realm of dreams. I will surely eradicate the doom. For the king…”

If she could draw the whole world into her realm of power, it would be possible.

By manipulating reality, she could eliminate the very source of destruction.

To achieve this, vast nourishment was required.

“I shall guide all living beings into the world of dreams. I will become the god of dreams for the king, without fail.”

She envisioned a world brimming with hope, and in exchange for that vision, she would receive the strength to sustain the world.

A life akin to livestock would not be so bad.

It would surely be far better than destruction.

Thus, the beginning lay with the Frost Heart.

“Your Majesty, I shall surely preserve the world you have guarded with your very life.”

As Irte stepped out through the door, someone cleared their throat.

“Ahem.”

Gomon set down the ancient tome he had been reading and shook his head.

He watched Irte’s retreating figure with a gaze full of disdain.

‘To lead me into a world of dreams? Why must it be this kind of dream, of all things…’

To Gomon, Irte appeared merely as a madman conjured from the depths of a dream.

* * *

The treasure lay hidden beneath the temple.

Descending into that place with Leana, I gazed upon the vast cavern of stone.

In the center stood a grand arena, solid and imposing.

The walls were adorned with armor and an array of weapons.

At first glance, it resembled a coliseum, yet this was precisely someone’s training ground.

Leana’s eyes sparkled as she beheld the exquisitely crafted swords.

“…They seem like remarkable items.”

Indeed, as she said, each was an ancient artifact of immense value.

But once the scenario concluded, they would vanish without a trace.

The only thing I could take from this place was the treasure I sought.

Of course, to do so, I first had to defeat the boss of the hidden room.

“The thief leader will appear soon. Before that, I need you to come with me for a moment.”

I led Leana into a chamber.

Beyond the door lay a waterfall within the cavern.

Swoosh—

I guided Leana to the edge where ground met water.

One more step, and she would plunge into the pool.

I grasped her hand tightly.

“Hershel?”

Leana gasped, startled, and looked into my face.

I pulled her hand and, with a sudden motion, threw myself into the depths with a splash!

“Whoa!”

The water was not deep enough to fill even half of the body.

Leana opened her eyes wide and asked.

“What on earth are you doing?”

“It is water imbued with essence. Meditate on your aura here.”

Originally, this was a training ground to be used in the latter part of the scenario.

For the fledglings still dipping their toes into the Frost Heart, it was far too early for such growth facilities.

Simply immersing oneself in the essence-laden water and meditating on the aura would grant strength at the mid-level.

Of course, the moment Irte died, all that power would vanish…

In a state not unlike hypnosis, Leana closed her eyes and began to meditate obediently.

If only my dantian had been intact, I would have joined her, but what could be done?

Even so, I had entered the water, perhaps hoping it might be good for my health, but I felt nothing of the sort.

Splash.

I pulled myself out of the water and planted my feet on solid ground.

Then I took out my staff and flicked away the wetness with telekinesis.

“Hursel? Where are you going now?”

“I’m done. You keep at it. I’ll pick out a decent weapon while you’re at it.”

With that, I moved my feet toward the place where the training ground had been earlier.

The displayed equipment was all of end-spec caliber.

I was keenly observing which armor to don on Leana and which sword to place in her hands.

A small dagger tucked away in a corner caught my eye. Its design was so simple that it stood out in its own way.

Curiosity piqued, I picked it up and voiced my question.

“Everything else is grand, but this one looks so shabby.”

I hadn’t expected a response, but Donathan replied.

“Hm, it does seem familiar at a glance.”

“Could it be the dagger that sealed you?”

I said it as a jest.

I thought he would be angry, but he showed a serious demeanor instead.

“That possibility cannot be entirely dismissed. It has been far too long since this vessel of mine has rusted. I can hardly remember what its original form was like…”

“Really?”

I selected equipment suitable for Leana.

She chose a longsword brimming with the essence of flames and armor.

If she bore the blessing of not being consumed by fire, it would be hers to wear.

“Sword of the Flame Spirit King, Alkin”

● Attribute: Fire.

A divine blade that only those with extreme fire resistance may wield.

When infused with aura, its destructive power amplifies greatly.

When enveloped in the essence of flames, it grants an effect that ignores defense.

This sword shall never bear a scratch.

For armor, she selected something verging on the absurd.

“Armor Infused with the Breath of the Phoenix”

● Attribute: Fire.

Armor that only those with extreme fire resistance may don.

Significantly enhances health recovery.

Greatly increases defense.

Should the armor be damaged, it self-repairs instantly.

Upon death, it resurrects the wearer in perfect form.

Upon resurrection, the armor is permanently damaged.

Each piece bears options worthy of a final confrontation.

Having chosen everything for Leana, I searched for something I could use.

Most items required extreme resistance to certain elements or conditions tied to aura usage.

The best I could wear was equipment with only basic performance maxed out.

A weapon that ignores defense and armor that absorbs all damage was the extent of it.

“Hershel?”

Just then, Leana emerged, as if she had finished her aura meditation.

I delicately used psychokinesis to extract the moisture that clung to her clothes.

“Put this on.”

Leana donned the armor I handed her.

It seemed difficult for her to manage alone, as it was unfamiliar.

I seated her before me and tightened the buckles of the armor.

“Is it too tight or something?”

“Seems just right.”

Having completed my preparations, I led Leana onto the training ground.

Then, from the opposite side, a strange mist began to rise, drawing forth the purple armor that hung against the wall.

Clank, clank.

The armor fastened itself, as if by its own will.

The mist revealed itself as the leader of the Dreaming Knights.

With a blue glow in its eyes, it unsheathed its sword.

Swoosh—

* * *

“Hey, you. Even if that guy is a fool, he’s not that much of one.”

What does it matter? It’s a dream, I thought, as Silla spat those words.

At her nervous tone, the Burgar lady flinched, her eyes trembling as she took a step back.

“Si, Silla…”

Silla was a different breed from the typical noblewoman.

Always at the center of the youth’s ball, she had even recorded top scores at the Adel Hall, so it was no wonder the Burgar lady felt the pressure.

“Unless you have something to say, would you mind stepping aside?”

“…”

The Burgar lady retreated in silence.

Silla clicked her tongue in disdain as she watched Limberton reach out toward her.

“Don’t go, Serda…”

“You really are something else. In just a few seconds, you’ve made me want to take back what I just said.”

Silla grabbed Limberton by the scruff of his neck and dragged him toward a chair.

Once seated, she unleashed her venom from the start.

“To be a fool even in a dream. I must have really seen you as a fool.”

At that, Limberton perked up his ears.

“A dream, you say? Yes, this is all a dream. Right, Serda wouldn’t abandon me.”

Silla considered giving him a good smack on the head.

‘Ugh, whatever. It’s all fake anyway.’

As the realization washed over her that everything was but an illusion, a hollow laugh escaped her lips.

“You really are foolish. If you just kept your mouth shut and quietly played your part, women would take an interest.”

Though they did not show it outwardly, evaluating men one by one was a secret pleasure for the women.

Not all of them, but among the close friends, it was so.

Of course, talk of Limberton would occasionally arise, but it wasn’t all bad.

“He looks fit, perhaps from working out, and his attire is suitably modest. All good, but that mouth of yours is the problem.”

I offered my advice, thinking it might help.

Yet, in that moment, Limberton seemed to have regained his senses and expressed his displeasure.

“What’s your deal? Even in dreams, you come at me?”

Sila suddenly felt a wave of irritation wash over her.

Upon reflection, she realized he always threw around those disgusting glances at other women.

But with her, he acted all twisted and off-kilter.

That was the same whether in dreams or reality.

‘What’s this? Is he discriminating against people or what?’

Sila sank deeper into her chair, letting out a sigh.

“Ugh, forget it. What’s the point of talking to you here?”

It was the moment she decided to leave, rising from her seat.

Limberton clenched his jaw and glared. His eyes held a hint of grievance.

“Why? You bring it up first, then just walk away?”

“Got something to say?”

“Plenty. I just haven’t said anything until now, but there’s a lot.”

Sila sat back down, as if to say, “Go on, spill it.”

“Fine, let’s hear it.”

“…You have no idea what my position is, just speaking freely without a care.”

“Hmph, you don’t know? What is it that I don’t know?”

Limberton shot up from his seat.

“Look at me. Short, plain face, and no noble lineage. This is how I’ve lived. Sure, I’ve kept my mouth shut like you said. Every time I spoke, the mood turned sour.”

His voice carried a raw sincerity.

Sila found herself flinching, her eyes widening.

“And do you know what happened because of that? No one even glanced my way. They didn’t even know I existed. I’d rather be remembered as a fool than go back to that. Honestly, if on that ball night I had spoken normally, do you think you would have remembered me?”

Limberton gasped for breath, his emotions spilling over. Sila averted her gaze.

He probably wouldn’t have remembered. Just another man among the countless rejected, destined to be forgotten.

—

‘Now that I think about it, I’ve never once considered things from his perspective. Could it be that a fool like him had such burdens…?’

The moment of reflection was fleeting.

Silah relaxed her expression and gazed intently at Limberton.

In this dream, there was no time to judge whether this man’s sincerity was genuine, yet for some reason, she found herself intoxicated by a feeling that was not entirely unpleasant, and softer words slipped from her lips.

“It feels like I’m finally having a conversation with you. Not just some idiot.”

The man’s grotesque words were, in a sense, a desperate struggle.

Though misguided, it was as if he were performing a courtship dance like a male peacock.

Realizing this, Silah rose from her seat and continued softly.

“Still, do you know? If I could go back to that time…”

With her back turned, she left behind her shy words.

“Well, I might be willing to dance with you once.”

Silah thought it fortunate that this was merely a dream, her expression complex.

It was a relief, yet a memory that would remain a dark history she would never want to share with others.

Fearing that her emotions might betray her, she did not glance at Limberton.

After taking a few steps, she heard the sound of quiet sobbing.

It was Klave.

“I… I understand…”

By chance, Klave passed by, tears streaming down his face as he looked at Limberton.