The sound of rustling pages filled the air—
A thick, black-bound book, its pages rapidly turning in the wind.
With each page turned, dense, shimmering characters materialized upon its surface.
All the ‘living’ present were immersed in a profound slumber.
They witnessed the entire incident unfold in the forest behind Lily of the Valley Street—experiencing it as a dream.
The sensation was not unfamiliar.
It was a common investigative method they employed: recreating crime scenes through dreams.
Thud.
Having turned every page, a hand reached from below, gripping the cover and snapping it shut.
The fallen agents jolted awake from their dreams, forcing back the terror in their hearts as they broke free from the nightmare, then quickly composed themselves to assess their surroundings.
In the center of the graveyard, a cross-shaped black shadow stood erect.
Their captain, Ramsey, a man with blond hair, was bound to it.
Dark shadows pierced his arms and thighs, winding around them to hold him fast.
The agents tried to compel their bodies into action.
Yet, their feet remained rooted to the spot, refusing to obey.
“Shadows!”
One of the team members’ shouts drew their attention back to their feet.
Upon closer inspection, they realized these were not mere shadows, but rather fine threads of a deeper black, connecting their bodies to the cross.
“Those irrelevant may now exit.”
From within the swirling mist, a familiar voice emerged.
Then, to their horror, they watched as the black shadows at their comrades’ feet swiftly coiled upwards, piercing their eyes and brains.
The blood sprayed into the air was not wasted; the shadows transformed into umbrella-like forms, catching and absorbing every drop.
“You’ve lost, Captain.”
The purple-haired woman, book in hand, stepped before the man.
“Where did you acquire such power?” Helm slowly lifted his head.
“Are you referring to a mythical creature? Or the power of an Ancient God?”
“An Ancient God…”
A cold sneer twisted his lips.
“To think they truly exist. No wonder you were able to corrupt the Goddess’s dream.”
“So your true objective is to use the populace of this city of millions as a sacrifice, to summon an Ancient God into reality.”
“No, that is the act of fools and madmen.
One should never attempt to pry into the affairs of deities, not even an ancient, nameless evil god of forgotten ages.”
The woman circled behind the cross.
“The Rats’ objective has always been singular—revenge.”
She uttered the words through gritted teeth.
“We will make the Abbey witness the destruction of the very city they once protected, and then ensure her demise through the most agonizing means.”
“Hahahaha—”
The man suddenly threw his head back and laughed aloud.
“That’s the finest joke I’ve heard all year.”
“Perhaps Director Anthea is merely playing a trick of feigned death with you, waiting for you to grow complacent before easily dispatching you, like a cat toying with a mouse.”
The woman’s face darkened considerably.
Those words seemed to genuinely provoke her.
She rounded back to the front, her gaze fixed intently on the man.
“Still trying to scare me with the dead?”
“Don’t imagine I’m unaware; this facade of frenzied rage you present is merely an act.
In truth, your heart remains remarkably calm, even after witnessing your comrades’ gruesome deaths and such horrific scenes in the dream.”
“…I saw something else in your dream.”
She paused, then spoke.
Ramsey remained silent.
Shedding the ferocity from his face, he stared coldly at this ‘teammate’.
“Perhaps we needn’t wait to capture the little nun; the ritual can commence now.”
The pages of the book in her hand turned automatically, and the purple-haired woman extended her hand, making a grasping gesture.
The black shadows piercing his limbs grew wildly, coiling like writhing, bloodthirsty vipers, tearing at his flesh and drinking his blood.
“Ah… agh… ah…”
The excruciating pain wrung heart-wrenching screams from him within the mist.
The flesh from his limbs was swiftly devoured, leaving behind stark white bones, yet his consciousness remained agonizingly lucid.
“As a vessel, you are exceptionally qualified.”
The woman retreated into the mist, her voice echoing all around.
“The more suffering you bear, the more potent the ritual’s effect will be.”
Words drifted from the book, settling upon every tombstone in the graveyard.
They emitted shifting halos of purplish-black light.
These halos mingled with the mist, coalescing into distorted faces that darted erratically.
It was as if souls were awakened and drawn out by the inscriptions on each tombstone, standing bewildered and lost.
The faces, like predators spotting prey, surged forward to devour the souls.
The entire graveyard was filled with agonizing wails, a scene befitting hell itself.
Once all the souls were consumed, the forms spiraled and circled in the air, colliding with one another.
The woman raised a hand and pointed, whereupon all the face-bearing entities surged towards the central cross, burrowing into the man’s brain through his mouth, eyes, and ears.
“Ahhh—”
Another piercing scream erupted.
His hands and feet were mere bone, bound by the black shadows, rendering him utterly incapable of resistance.
This process was akin to forcing him to experience the agony of his soul being devoured countless times over.
After an unknown number of repetitions, his consciousness could no longer endure, and he finally succumbed to unconsciousness.
The nightmare was born.
Centered around Ramsey, a torrential rain composed of viscous shadows enveloped the entire city.
It fell upon the streets, cascaded over rooftops, and splattered onto balconies.
The ground turned black, plants withered, and moonlight striking the surface reflected no light at all.
Agents patrolling the streets fell into a deep slumber amidst the dark downpour.
The ‘shadows’ writhed, squeezing through tiny cracks in houses to infiltrate homes and burrow into people’s dreams.
Faces that had been peaceful and serene in slumber now contorted with agony.
Before long, rats gnawed their way out from beneath the skin, emerging into the world.
These rats, born from the nightmare, inherently possessed the power to control ‘shadows’.
They would not merely rely on biting or overwhelming numbers.
It wouldn’t be long before the entire city succumbed.
The purple-haired woman spread her arms wide, allowing the rain to fall upon her, immersing herself in this dark baptism as the book in her hand turned entirely black.
This state did not last long.
A voice emanated from behind her.
“You seem to be celebrating prematurely.
Do not forget, our wager included our very lives.”
Turning back in astonishment, she saw the man bound to the cross use the bare bones of his left index finger and thumb to stretch his lips into a wide, grinning expression, as his right hand thrust a gun into his mouth.
“Stop him!”
She tried to command the shadows to intervene.
Bang—
A deafening gunshot echoed through the air.
The bullet tore through his brain.
The shadows still lingering in the sky, those that had already descended and burrowed into people’s dreams, and all the newborn rats—all instantly vanished.
With the death of the vessel, the nightmare ceased.
It was as if nothing had ever transpired.
People returned to their pleasant dreams.
How had he done it?
The purple-haired woman stood frozen, the question repeating endlessly in her mind.
His limbs had already been reduced to bone, he was bound by shadows, and he had even lost consciousness.
What kind of person possessed such resolve…
It was simply not something a human could accomplish!
She finally arrived at her conclusion.
“Hahahaha—”
Manic laughter filled the entire graveyard.
Whether conceived on the spur of the moment or planned from the outset.
It had to be admitted: this Level Four Agent of the Epidemic Prevention Bureau had deceived his enemies, his teammates, and everyone.
It had all been part of his plan.
“That damn madman, to make me waste so much power!”
Furious, she crushed the now-blackened book in her hand into dust, then approached the cross and commanded the shadows to tear apart the man hanging there.
She then inflicted the same brutal treatment upon the corpses of the other agents in the graveyard.
When nearly all the bodies had been torn to shreds.
Only then did her rage subside, if only slightly.
Just a fraction.
She began to consider her initial choices.
There were two individuals capable of initiating the ritual with dream power.
That was before the power within the book was depleted.
Now, there was only one.
Her daughter’s power was insufficient; she would require the residual power from the Bishop’s book to assist her.
“Since you have fulfilled your wager, I shall honor our agreement; my daughter will live.”
She glanced at the mangled flesh and shattered bones on the ground.
“Do not fret; the time you bought her with your lives will be for naught.
She cannot escape.”