After seeing these words, Walton's conviction in Luna's experiences grew even stronger.
Or perhaps, now it only had Luna in whom it could place its trust.
Its previous question hadn't been intended to resolve its own internal doubts, but rather to voice the confusion arising from its subconscious mind.
No entity would readily accept the testimony of another being, especially if that being was its adversary.
Walton knew that no matter how intensely it tried to enforce belief, its own subconscious would inevitably present a different conclusion.
Therefore, the final query was, in essence, an act of empathy.
It genuinely allowed its subconscious self to pose the question.
Having finally received an answer, it now needed to witness Luna's response.
Luna seemed to intuit Walton's purpose, thus she opted not to reply vocally.
It is generally understood that sound carries greater resonance and power, making it ideal for conveying raw emotion.
But Luna made a contrary choice. This choice was not delivered through mist-formed words, but by answering Walton's question with her retreating back.
That receding silhouette, flying away, served as the definitive proof of her stance.
Walton then also vacated that immediate area, fearing that the seven-dimensional Civilization might launch a direct investigation there.
Although it was presumed they couldn't interfere with three dimensions, this remained a mere conjecture. Even if they couldn't physically seize Walton, they could still enact direct destruction through alternate means.
Walton flew outward for tens of thousands of kilometers without pause.
This dream world was truly boundless.
Before encountering Luna, Walton had also explored the surrounding environment, flying continuously in a straight line, yet it found absolutely no end to it.
It wasn't entirely sure if it was lost.
Because everywhere it perceived were endless lines.
Even though it possessed senses far exceeding human capacity, what its perception registered through these senses was monotonous repetition, lacking any meaningful point of reference.
This was analogous to being trapped within a dense forest. One might walk straight for only a few kilometers and exit, but due to an inability to discern precise direction, a person could remain confined there for days and nights.
Previously, Walton had no objective and was perilously close to despair in such a place.
But now, it possessed a definite goal.
Its fighting spirit ignited once more.
"Reveal yourself, Luna!"
In a newly established location, Walton concentrated, imagining another Luna.
This newly materialized Luna instantly understood everything—what was required of her.
But very swiftly, she encountered an obstacle. She looked at Walton and stated coldly:
"If you yourself do not hold the absolute belief that I can breach dimensions, then how can I possibly achieve dimensional breakthrough?"
Walton was not a true god.
It was prone to apprehension; it tended to overthink matters.
Even a confirmed fact would generate several potential alternative outcomes in its mind, leading to a loss of resolve.
After the imagined Luna articulated this statement, Walton instantly realized it still harbored an underlying internal conflict.
But this conflict didn't stem from outright distrust, but rather a distinct form of aversion.
An aversion to Luna's choices—the decisions made by its supposed enemy.
"Others can willingly face death for the greater good, telling me everything, but what about myself?"
"Looking at it this way, I truly am too ordinary."
It gazed upon its own physical form and wings.
It had always been troubled by its physical appearance.
Frequently, it faced ostracism. Its sole escape route was to achieve overwhelming power. Only by ascending high enough could it silence those persistent, negative voices.
But once it attained the rank of Archon,
It finally recognized how absurd its former aspirations had been.
Even as Archon, it remained subject to scrutiny and gossip.
Such is existence; there will perpetually be a divide between individuals.
Then, it released that thought, viewing this realization as a form of self-encouragement.
Now, although the current scenario differed, many parallels remained. It needed to cast aside its ingrained prejudices.
After Walton had rationalized this internally.
The Luna before it began to transform.
The imagined Luna bestowed upon Walton a profound look, then departed directly.
Walton watched that Luna fly out less than tens of thousands of kilometers, streaking across the expanse. The energy fluctuations, even after traveling such a distance, still buffeted its body.
That Luna had perished.
It pressed onward, continuing to the next coordinate to conjure a new Luna.
This cycle repeated itself.
After an unknown hundreds of repetitions.
It initiated the mass production of Lunas.
Countless Lunas manifested before it, yet at a certain coordinate, it encountered an irresistible exhaustion.
This profound weariness made it desperately want to collapse into sleep.
"What is happening?"
"I am so tired; so utterly exhausted that I feel as though my body lacks substance."
"Could it be that the act of creating these iterations also drains something essential from me?"
"Yes, I am required to shape these imagined constructs. How can the shaping process occur without consuming energy? This energy must originate from me."
The principle of energy conservation.
Walton felt incredibly drained; it had never experienced such profound depletion before.
Its body collapsed onto the ground, completely incapable of lifting itself.
After an immensely long period, once those created Lunas had long since departed towards unknown coordinates, it regained a minuscule fraction of strength.
"It appears there is a flaw in the approach. We haven't truly grasped the fundamental characteristics of this Yinka."
"Infinity is an impossibility."
"However, this seems to be the sole viable method."
Walton lay prone, contemplating for an extended duration, then a sudden thought struck it.
"If I become fatigued and fall asleep within the dream, would I revert to my original physical form?"
It remained somewhat uncertain.
Logically speaking, this scenario was indeed plausible.
When one cannot persevere within a dreamscape, consciousness automatically snaps back to reality.
Perhaps waking from this constructed dream realm operates similarly: the ordinary life consciousness cannot sustain itself for extended periods within it.
"In the records, if Yinka manifests upon waking, one will feel severely fatigued. If Yinka does not appear, waking is like normal sleep, leaving one feeling refreshed."
Daydreaming, it seemed, resulted in exhaustion.
This information stemmed from the records of the Flyer Civilization.
Simple? Walton felt a degree of certainty regarding this conjecture, yet it remained profoundly skeptical. This was no ordinary dreamscape; it was deliberately constructed. Did it possess unstated, underlying rules?
This remained an uncertainty.
Walton carried the critical responsibility of extracting the dreamscape data and returning it to reality; it could not afford to spend time conducting personal, risky trials.
"I need to locate other soldiers to conduct controlled experiments."
Walton decided to set this specific issue aside for the moment.
It proceeded with the primary objective: creating Luna, as per the original strategy.
This time, however, meticulous planning was essential.
It calculated its maximum single creation threshold, then determined the necessary duration for recovery, finally formulating a precise creation and recovery protocol.
For instance: generating 500 Lunas simultaneously, then resting for ten days, and repeating the cycle.
This process would be incredibly monotonous.
It had no certainty regarding its completion timeline.
Could these Lunas indeed provide it with the elusive answer?
Even if these Lunas managed to find a solution, that answer might be inherently transient. Since those Lunas would not remain by its side, Walton couldn't arrive in time, ultimately leading to the failure of the entire operation.
At this juncture, Walton felt itself once again sinking into a state of profound confusion.
The plan, upon closer inspection, seemed far less robust than initially envisioned.
...
Walton continued the process of creation, persistently searching.
Finally, after 183 consecutive creations, it located a soldier.
The soldier was barely registering a breath.
It appeared as though it was on the verge of expiring.
Walton swiftly flew over, calling out urgently.
"Hey, are you alright?"
"Wake up, just a little."
This soldier bore no external injuries, yet radiated an aura of profound agony.
It looked towards Walton, surprised for a brief instant, then managed to ask: "Are you real?"
"Are you truly the Archon?"
"Can I still return?"
"Is it true that I am destined to die here!"
Its questions were very faint, and Walton could only discern fragmented sounds.
Walton, observing its near-fatal condition, offered encouragement: "I am real. We can find a way to leave this place."
"You must not perish. Tell me what transpired. Is there anything I can do to aid your recovery?"
The soldier, hearing Walton's affirmation, seemed to regain a flicker of spirit within its body.
Its voice also gained strength.
"Truly the Archon; this isn't a hallucination, is it?"
"I witnessed so much, so many things. My family, my comrades—they all eventually abandoned me. They declared that I would remain here forever, perishing in isolation."
"I gained nothing. I felt nothing. I possessed nothing. My entire future held only death."
The more it recounted, the fainter its voice became, and its awareness gradually receded once more.
Walton, assessing its physical state, noted the absence of actual trauma.
It was merely internal anguish causing this state.
Walton rose, addressing this soldier with stern, commanding authority: "Stand up, soldier!"
"Do you still recall the mandate you carry?"
"You succumbed to weakness even before confronting the adversary. Is this the conduct of a qualified soldier? Are you worthy of your identity?"
"Soldiers must be strong. Look at your inner self now; how murky and chaotic it is, like stagnant mud."
"Declare your name loudly."
The soldier, responding to Walton's resonant and potent words, shouted back: "Fenuo, Archon!"
"My designation is Fenuo!"
Walton roared: "Soldier Fenuo, assume formation, recite the Soldier's Oath again."
Fenuo immediately rose from the ground. Its previously moribund state vanished entirely, transforming into that of a mighty and robust warrior.
It proclaimed: "I, Fenuo, from this moment forth, become a soldier of the great Civilization, loyal to the Monarch, protecting the Civilization, safeguarding the Sector. Warships cannot impede my progress, energy beams cannot deter my resolve, death cannot make me falter, and darkness cannot obscure the light in my heart… No matter how formidable the enemy, I swear with my very flesh and blood to defend the peace and stability of the Civilization until my final breath!"
Every word it spoke resonated with absolute firmness.
Soldiers of highly advanced Civilizations undergo extensive training periods, and to guarantee absolute loyalty, they are selected with meticulous care.
Galactic Federation soldiers, due to their immense scale, struggle to maintain such an elite standard across the board.
But the Flyer Civilization operates differently.
Their soldier contingent is deliberately small, allowing them to perfectly manage these critical factors.
Every single soldier represents the top one percent.
"Good."
Walton watched Fenuo fully recover, offering a single word of praise.
The Civilization's soldiers are not just personnel; they are the very pride of the Civilization.
"Soldier Fenuo, recount every encounter you experienced." Walton was eager to learn the full context of its ordeal.
Fenuo, with its regained composure, detailed its experiences to Walton clearly.
After entering the dream world, it began searching everywhere for any sign of other soldiers, but the expanse was too enormous. It flew continuously and eventually located a companion, a soldier it recognized.
They communicated, shared information, and stayed close together for mutual support.
However, as time progressed, Fenuo felt increasingly uneasy. Its companion seemed to harbor secret intentions; it would depart for a while every day.
Fenuo secretly followed it and discovered that it was conversing with seemingly empty air; there was clearly no one present.
Fenuo instantly realized it had committed an act of betrayal against the Civilization.
At an opportune moment, Fenuo launched a direct surprise attack on its companion, restraining it and demanding to know how to escape the current location.
Yet, Fenuo had not anticipated its companion revealing its true nature.
It confessed to Fenuo that it was not a soldier at all; it was merely Fenuo's own fabrication.
It had manifested because Fenuo deeply longed for camaraderie.
And Fenuo, simply due to a small, fleeting doubt that arose during its companion's nightly absence, had begun to project negative thoughts onto it, causing its form to gradually turn malevolent.
It informed Fenuo that this was an inescapable realm, one from which return was impossible. Fenuo could only expire quietly here, with no memory of its existence ever surviving.
Fenuo killed it. Those devastating words deeply stimulated Fenuo.
Afterward, Fenuo frequently began to see its family, friends, and even the Monarch.
They repeatedly refuted its reality, attacked it verbally, which caused Fenuo to feel as if it were fundamentally disintegrating.
It experienced an unprecedented level of agony; this torment caused its physical form to begin collapsing.
"Thoughts directly influence the physical form."
"This is Yinka. Our bodies are essentially composed of consciousness. Consciousness, due to self-denial, begins to descend into chaos and ultimately collapse."
This was Walton's working conjecture after listening to Fenuo's account.
Although it had formed this hypothesis, Walton still found the situation almost unbelievable.
A dreamscape—a place that defied all common sense. It felt as if it were merely imagined, not truly existing, yet it did exist and was actively being utilized.
This reality overturned many of Walton's long-held theories, perhaps even their established principles of physics.
However, precisely because of this groundbreaking, unbelievable nature, Walton became even more resolute in its mission to bring this information back.
It absolutely had to convey the data.
Otherwise, no one would ever recognize the threat residing here.
"Fenuo, I have a plan that requires your execution. It carries a high probability of failure, but there remains a slim chance of success. I cannot be certain."
Walton formally addressed Fenuo.
Fenuo did not give an immediate affirmation, but instead posed a critical question: "Is it profoundly important? Does it truly have to be done?"
Walton affirmed with gravity.
"Of course. The outcome determines the survival of our Civilization. If you succeed, you will achieve the status of a hero. But the hope is minimal, because I cannot fully assess this domain. It is so dreamlike, so fundamentally contrary to our established logic."
Walton hadn't even finished speaking when Fenuo eagerly responded.
"I am willing, Archon."
"This is my assigned duty. Tell me, what are the necessary steps?"
Walton then conveyed its conjecture to Fenuo.
The proposed method was to deplete its own consciousness, to exhaust itself entirely, and then observe if this extreme exhaustion could force a return to reality.
Walton also imparted some of the crucial knowledge it had gleaned within the dream realm to Fenuo.
"If you manage to return, you must transmit this critical information back to the Civilization. The Civilization requires this data."
This remained the fundamental objective.
Fenuo looked up at Walton, inquiring: "Archon, and what about you?"
Walton replied: "I still need to investigate further. This information is currently insufficient for us to achieve a comprehensive understanding of this Civilization."
"If we can grasp the true nature of this Yinka, then we can defeat them."
Fenuo listened, filled with deep respect for Walton.
It understood the unique pain of remaining trapped here.
Continuing in this state was worse than death; it was a path toward confusion and helplessness—definitely not a favorable option.
"May success attend you, Archon. I shall commence immediately."
Fenuo began to visualize and manifest, conjuring various objects, drawing upon the internal magical essence residing within itself.
Then, it truly experienced the profound weariness Walton had described, but it persisted nonetheless, continuing its efforts until it was genuinely too exhausted to maintain awareness.
It subsequently fell asleep.
Falling asleep within the dream!
Walton continuously monitored Fenuo's state.
Initially, it seemed to drift into slumber, then its form gradually grew more transparent, eventually vanishing entirely from this dream world.
Approximately twenty years passed in the observation process.
Walton still lacked certainty on whether Fenuo had successfully returned to reality or had simply perished.
However, as it had stated, even if Fenuo had made it back to reality, Walton still needed to gather more intelligence concerning this dream dimension, and then replicate this method of "exit" with other soldiers.
Walton gazed at the location where Fenuo had disappeared. Within its core, a degree of guilt lingered.
What if Fenuo had not returned to reality, but had simply died?
"Guilt is an indulgence a superior should not afford. This place is profoundly cruel. Has my own heart not become sufficiently cold after all these years?"
Walton recalibrated its internal measure of guilt.
Yet, this detachment was actually quite typical.
Unlike the Federation's Archons, Walton's equivalents in the Federation generally enjoyed extended lifespans.
For instance, lifespan extension due to elevated status, lifespan suspension due to holding public office, coupled with accelerated longevity gains from advanced psionics.
But even for an Archon like Walton, its allotted lifespan within the Flyer Civilization was not infinite.
Without extremely long lifespans, a Civilization ensures a rich influx of new personnel, promoting healthy development, but this reality can also lead its beings to be less composed, less emotionally detached.
Many Federation generals or commanders could authorize the deaths of hundreds of millions of soldiers without the slightest flicker of emotion.
Of course, Walton served as an Archon; its primary focus leaned toward Civilization management.
In the realm of administration, emotion is vital. Without it, the social structure risks becoming overly rigid and formulaic.
Perhaps this was precisely why Luna had sanctioned Walton to implement this high-stakes plan.
A being whose heart had become too cold could not fully trust others, and consequently, could not effectively create beings described by the external observer.
"Proceed."
"My assignment is not yet concluded."
Walton continued its process of creation and experimentation.
It did not know when the end goal would be achieved.
But it felt it possessed the patience to wait.
After a thousand repetitions, the inner monologue shifted subtly.
After ten thousand repetitions, it clearly felt profound exhaustion.
After one hundred thousand repetitions, a wave of absolute revulsion returned. This disgust was internal and external; a nauseating, crushing abhorrence.
It began repeatedly questioning itself: Was this tenacious persistence actually worthwhile?
Innumerable answers within its mind screamed: No!
No matter how many times it posed the question, the two stark words, "No," returned with merciless finality, leaving it with no room for doubt.
It felt utterly weak, as fragile as Fenuo.
This weakness stemmed not from physical exhaustion, but from the ceaseless torment brought by self-negation. These agonies afflicted both its body and its spirit. It believed these internal tortures were substantial enough that, within this dream world, they would manifest physically, transforming into sharp blades cutting into its being.
At this moment, its black-and-white form was already grotesquely stained with green blood.
The blood dyed its body so vividly; it had never envisioned its own form achieving such striking coloration.
However, its wings were shattered, its structure incomplete.
Observed from above, it resembled a canvas violently splashed with paint.
"Is it finally my turn?"
"I comforted countless other Kirara, yet I cannot comfort my own self."
"Luna, can you comprehend this? I have already imagined 6.18 million versions of you. Each iteration gradually enriched, becoming more magnificent as time flowed. In fact, you are almost approaching the level of the Monarch."
"But it's essentially the same, isn't it? You are the Monarch of human Civilization; it's only natural that you resemble a Monarch."
"Right, now that I reflect on it, you never truly intended for us Monarchs to attain humanity, did you? What a tragedy; you cannot provide an answer."
"I was actually contemplating: Did you foresee this exact outcome long ago? That I would be unable to depart this place, so you shared these thoughts with me, and then chose death, sparing yourself the necessity of enduring this suffering."
"You cunning entity; I should never have placed my trust in you. After trusting you, this plan became the singular available path."
"I should have explored alternative decisions. Perhaps they might have achieved success. After all, within this realm, I have patiently waited for a million years."
"My Civilization should have long since rendered these desires obsolete, yet I still cling to these lingering fantasies. According to the records, the time experienced in the Yinka world and actual objective time do not share the same concept. Perhaps a million years here equates only to a mere blink in reality."
"But what is even more terrifying is that the seven-dimensional Civilization will enter reality far sooner."
Walton desperately wished to rise, to take flight.
But it could sense that its core heart had already perished.
Perhaps it could still be reawakened by another entity, but that entity no longer existed.
"Forget it!"
"I am suffering too greatly."
Having uttered this, Walton closed its eyes. It entered a silent, absolute darkness.
And it would never awaken again.
In truth, it held a final sliver of hope at the very end: that succumbing to sleep within the dream world might equate to waking up in the real world.
The final iteration of Luna it had imagined looked at it, shaking its head slightly.
"Impossible. Upon entering this dream world, consciousness has utterly detached from the physical body; the connection is severed."
"To return to reality, a force significantly stronger is required to bridge the real and the dreamscape."
"Finding a means to enter the dream from the exterior, or locating a pathway to exit the dream from within, both necessitate the participation of the Civilization. The sole feasible exit lies through that seven-dimensional Civilization."
The imagined Luna completed its dimensional ascension. It perceived a surge of complex emotions transmitting around it.
These sensations were profoundly multifaceted.
There was not a trace of tranquility; instead, the environment pulsed with extreme chaos and rage.
This was an aspect Walton had failed to perceive.
Luna's original strategy actually comprised two distinct phases: the best outcome was to successfully transmit intelligence back to reality.
The secondary outcome was significantly more brutal: compelling Walton to continuously generate her likeness, enabling her to sow chaos within the seven-dimensional space, thereby stalling the seven-dimensional Civilization's progress and construction, effectively buying crucial time for the true world.
The former objective appeared to have failed.
Which meant the time for the latter had arrived.
The imagined Luna was highly intelligent. Upon sensing the surrounding emotional atmosphere, it instantly understood its new mandate.
It was no longer about searching for an exit, but about engineering destruction.
"These cuboids can be interpreted as lives or structures. Did I choose to destroy these lives and structures in earlier iterations?"
"Perhaps the initial few times were conducted in that manner. After all, they had no alternative."
"However, continuing such actions at the present stage will not accomplish the objective."
"Escape is already a distant aspiration. Therefore, what I must do is exceedingly simple: destroy the very core of this dream world."
Where resided the core?
Across the entire expanse, it could discern several gigantic cuboids in a very distant location. These structures were so immense they approached several astronomical units in length and width—hundreds of millions of kilometers.
"It probably won't be those places. The true nucleus must be concealed by a vast number of cuboids and contain a density of living entities."
"Where is it located?"
As the imagined Luna searched, it suddenly detected a specific anomaly on one of the cuboids.
A smile instantly appeared on its face.
"It seems this protagonist-level mission has fallen to me."