"Got him trapped?"

"Should be."

The black-robed demonfolk bared his teeth as he pushed himself upright. His movements were clearly still unsteady—after all, the wound Elizabeth had punched through was still bleeding nonstop. If the demon race’s physique weren’t strong enough, he would’ve already died from that hit.

"Are you sure this illusion is solid?"

One of the Flayers asked cautiously. The scene of Muen counter-killing earlier had left him shaken—he didn’t dare be careless.

"It’s fine if you look down on me, but you shouldn’t look down on this."

The black-robed demonfolk let out a cold laugh, showing the small bronze bell in his hand.

The bell looked extremely ordinary, but when it swayed, something like invisible ripples seemed to spread outward. The Flayers present all felt their consciousness wobble for a moment.

"This is the ancient relic, the Early-Dream Bell. It’s damaged, sure, but the illusion it weaves isn’t something those laughable human mages of today can compare to. Touch, smell, hearing, sight—whether it’s the five senses or perception, whether it’s memory or reality—the dream it constructs has absolutely no flaws."

"That strong?"

"Of course. Otherwise Lord Zagu wouldn’t have specifically sent me to assist you... and strictly speaking, this isn’t even just a simple illusion."

"Not just an illusion?"

"That’s right. How could an ancient relic only have a function as simple as weaving illusions?"

The black-robed demonfolk’s gaze fell behind Muen.

Even while being hunted, surrounded, trapped in such danger—he still hadn’t abandoned this woman. Even in the battle just now, he’d been deliberately protecting her...

She must be very important to you.

Heh. So you’re the devoted type too. He couldn’t understand that kind of feeling, but supposedly humans produced plenty of this kind of idiot. No wonder the Early-Dream Bell would make you dream such a sweet dream.

"Early dream, early dream... a beautiful dream that comes early. This isn’t a purely virtual dream. In truth, it’s more like a kind of fore—"

The black-robed demonfolk hummed like a nursery rhyme, carrying the most bone-deep contempt for humans—creatures of emotion.

But before he could finish—

"Pff."

A familiar, abrupt sound—flesh being pierced—rang out.

It was soft, yet in an instant it drowned out his humming completely.

"W... what?"

The black-robed demonfolk lowered his head blankly.

His gaze fell, disbelieving, on the segment of pure white blade sticking out of his chest.

The blade was beautiful, like white jade, not stained by even a trace of blood.

But in his eyes, it was grotesque beyond words.

"I-Impossible... how could you—"

That was a perfect dream-illusion that fused reality with the future. How could—

"I’m the one who should be saying ‘impossible,’ aren’t I?"

Muen opened his eyes. His azure irises were still as a deep lake.

"How the hell would I ever dream about marrying Ariel? Even a dream where she finely chops me into mincemeat would be more believable. If you’re going to do illusions, could you at least make them make sense?"

That shy, kiss-begging Ariel had been scary enough to give someone a heart attack.

"N-No... this isn’t a pure illusion, it’s—"

"You talk too damn much."

Pshhk.

The black flame swayed again.

With wolves all around him, Muen wasn’t stupid enough to stand there listening to an opponent finish their last words. He immediately drew on the black flame again and devoured him.

Elizabeth obediently flew back into Muen’s hand on its own—another benefit of a weapon with a living spirit. The enemy thought you’d crippled yourself, but in reality you hadn’t. And you could even exploit the moment they relaxed to pull off two sneak attacks.

"Still—after this, sneak attacks won’t do anything to me anymore."

The blade turned, just in time to block a spear that shot in.

Expressionless, Muen looked back at the few Flayers left.

"So. It’s your turn..."

...

One minute later, the battle was over.

Everything was more violent than expected—and ended even faster.

Because that was Muen’s style. As a man who would one day bear the authority of time, aside from in bed, what he valued was swift, decisive combat.

Of course, the biggest reason was that his current condition couldn’t afford to drag things out.

"This thing..."

After sweeping his eyes around, Muen bent down and picked up that small bronze bell from the ground.

An ancient relic.

With a single glance, Muen recognized what it was. The trace of long years flowing over it—the kind of mark time left behind—was something no magic could fake.

But besides that long-time mark...

There were fine cracks all over it.

Crack... crack...

Sure enough, Muen only shook it lightly. He hadn’t even had time to inject mana, and the tiny bell cracked with a snap, then quickly crumbled into fine grit that slipped through Muen’s fingers.

It broke so naturally, like it should’ve shattered long ago—only held together temporarily by some kind of force.

"Only usable once? Why is Gutongs Castle full of broken junk like this?"

Muen sighed helplessly.

He’d worked his ass off to clear the monsters, and in the end he didn’t even get a single item drop. With planning this trash, back in his previous life the fans probably would’ve crowdfunded a truck just to run the devs over.

But honestly, it was within his expectations.

The enemy was obviously using these house dogs to delay him. They’d probably even predicted this outcome, so they wouldn’t let them carry anything that might end up supporting the enemy.

"What careful thinking. Are you really demonfolk?"

Muen tugged his lips into a grin, but even though the immediate danger had been removed, this really wasn’t a moment where he could laugh.

He tilted his head ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) slightly and looked at Ariel, her little head resting on his shoulder. He realized her mouth was twisted tight too, wearing an expression of faint disgust and irritation.

This woman... looks like she’s not having a pretty dream either...

"Seeing you have nightmares too suddenly makes me feel a lot more balanced."

Muen let out a dry laugh and stood again, flicking his finger lightly.

A few wisps of black flame jumped from his fingertips, quickly devouring the remaining demonfolk corpses on the ground.

Leaving not even the corpses was pretty gross, but at a time like this, he couldn’t afford to—

Vmmm—

Right then, a sharp sound suddenly echoed inside Muen’s head.

Like a knife being driven straight into his consciousness, then struck with a sledgehammer—violent trembling.

Tremble.

Tremble.

Tremble.

With every tremor, the stabbing pain in Muen’s skull intensified. So painful that even he—someone used to pain—looked twisted and vicious now.

But that sound, that trembling, wasn’t coming from outside.

It was coming from Muen’s mental space.

His vision began to blur. Double images split across everything in front of him. His body—already exhausted to the extreme—felt like the last bone had been pulled out of it.

Even standing became unbearably difficult.

Blood at the corner of his eyes. Blood from his ears. Blood under his nose.

It all started flowing again, impossible to stop.

Sss.

But—

Those few wisps of black flame burned even more fiercely instead. They swayed and leaped, pitch-black flame draped in a pure white, holy outer coat, quickly devouring the remaining corpses completely.

And it didn’t stop there.

The black flame kept burning, kept spreading—

Like a floodgate released.

Like a little deer running wild in the woods.

Like a child who had finally been given permission to go out and play.

It was reckless. Unrestrained.

It burned everything it touched, turning it into fuel for its own growth—until even gravel, even dust, even the very air here...

"Get back!"

Muen clenched his teeth and suddenly spoke low to the black flame.

The black flame flickered once. The spread slowed—

But still...

"Get back!!"

The low shout became a roar. Muen’s five fingers dug deep into the ground. His eyes were already dyed red with bloodshot veins.

Still, he forced himself to hold onto his sanity and said each word, slow and hard:

"Get—back!!"

The black flame wobbled, reluctant—

But in the end, Muen forcibly took control, yanking it back until it dispersed.

"Cough, cough..."

But the price of forcing back black flame that was right on the brink of running wild was—

Muen’s mental strength finally reached the edge of complete depletion.

Even though the black flame had fed back a decent amount of power just now, Muen looked listless—more miserable than before.

Now it really was true.

Not a single drop left to squeeze out...

"Heh... looks like carrying power that’s too enormous isn’t always a good thing." 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

Muen wiped the blood off his face with a bitter smile, bracing himself against the wall as he struggled upright.

The alchemical core, the black flame—

These powerful forces that let him fight fate...

Had also more than once nearly dragged him into a bottomless abyss.

The old loli had been right.

Power was power. Power itself wasn’t guilty—but weakness that couldn’t even control power was original sin.

"Too small..."

Even Ariel behind him murmured in her sleep.

"Yeah. I’m still too weak."

After fighting this hard to get here, he could still only flee in disgrace.

"Too small... panini cake... so small, how is that enough to eat..."

"..."

Muen froze.

Ah—this woman...

So she’s troubled by that in her dreams?

Muen couldn’t help laughing.

That really is Ariel. Even wrapped up like a zongzi from all her injuries, the thing she was thinking about was when she’d get to eat her favorite panini cake again.

That big-heartedness unique to “overlord” protagonists... or maybe it was confidence?

Or did she truly believe that "Miss Muse," someone she’d only met a few times, could protect her properly?

"That’s good, isn’t it?"

Muen took a deep breath and shoved Ariel up higher so she could cling more securely to his back.

That’s right—just like Ariel said.

Even if the cake is small, you still eat it bite by bite.

Becoming fat overnight was hard, sure—

But hadn’t he come this far exactly like that?

From a yellow-haired villain so weak he might not survive two punches from Ariel—always terrified he’d get cleanly sliced by the righteous protagonist...

...to now, where he could trade a few moves with the chosen protagonist, and was even fleeing down the same road with her.

That kind of progress wasn’t small.

So—

It was just a little thing: mental strength drained, injuries severe, powerful enemies still tailing him, almost at the end of the road.

Nothing worth caring about.

Muen turned back, feeling that sense of death drawing closer and closer. He copied Ariel and hooked his lips into a wild, unrestrained curve.

"It’s not over yet."

...

...

"It’s already over."

Zagu looked at the traces left at the scene, and an everything-is-under-control cold smile rose at the corner of his mouth.

"After letting the hunting dogs tear at you for so long... have you finally bled even your last drop dry?"