An old man appeared from behind the black curtains. His eyes were closed and bleeding, his long white hair flowing beneath a wide-brimmed elegant hat. He used a sword as a cane, leaning on it while seated in a wheelchair. His clothes resembled Gehrman's, but of an older style.
"With the arrival of what is called evolution, there was a great difference between using the horse for travel or using iron." The old man spoke in a cold and weary tone.
Gehrman looked at the old man in shock. He had no idea where he was or who this mysterious figure was, emerging from nothingness to speak with him.
"But… who are you? And what is this strange place, which resembles a cosmic prison?"
The old man chuckled softly, then turned his head toward Gehrman and said:
"You are not mistaken, mad Lord's of nothing. This is a place of rest, yet a vast and mighty prison. It is rest for me… and a prison for my wretched soul."
Up to this point, Gehrman could not grasp what was happening or what the old man was trying to convey with his cryptic words. Gehrman extended his hand forward, questioning:
"You've answered the second part, but you haven't told me who you are. If you are imprisoned here, am I imprisoned with you as well?"
The smile faded from the old man's mysterious face, his expression becoming sharp and terrifying as blood poured more heavily from his closed eyes. Gehrman stepped back, trying to reach for his Phantium cards—only to find nothing.
'What? Where did the cards go?' Gehrman spoke to himself.
"Gehrman, or more accurately, Prince Lundis of the Kingdom of Stoktzom. You are not imprisoned here—but you have imprisoned yourself within these nightmares," said the old man sharply.
Gehrman's features shifted, his eyes nearly closing in shock at the revelation of his true name. He looked downward and saw a red eye staring at him—then disappearing.
"Do not look downward. Not everything beneath you is salvation. You are surprised that I know your true identity, son of the Fifth Emperor, and grandson of the First," the old man said, striking his foot twice on the ground.
(Note: Striking the ground twice is an ancient gesture signifying that the speaker knows things the listener does not.)
"You… old man, answer me! Who are you, and how do you know my true name? And why am I in this cursed place? Answer meeee!" Gehrman shouted, his voice sharp and loud.
The old man raised his palm toward Gehrman, an unusual gesture. He spoke in a calm tone:
"Does the great one need an introduction?"
It was a short sentence, not long. Light, yet sharp. Painful to hear, but true. Gehrman's hand trembled, though he tried to hide it.
'A great one? Didn't he say there are no great ones here? They say that to converse with a great one leads to death—not merely from seeing them, but even from hearing their words. But who is this enigmatic figure?' Gehrman muttered to himself, pondering.
"You seem like a deep thinker, Gehrman. But I am not one of the great ones—I am one of the great ones… who have been forgotten. I created this prison to receive those who entered the nightmares formed by the catastrophe of the great 'Kideon'…" the old man spoke, his tone cold and mind-reading.
"So… your reason for bringing me here is to tell me you are one of the forgotten greats? And to inform me about the catastrophe of that so-called 'Kideon'…" Gehrman responded with sarcasm, though not overtly.
The old man laughed, then extended his hand forward and said, in a voice full of riddles:
"The catastrophe of the great 'Kideon' is not something your primitive mind can comprehend. And the reason you were brought here… is because you must be cautious."
Gehrman's expression grew still, then he asked in a questioning tone:
"My primitive mind? I've heard that phrase before… from that other person too. And… who should I be cautious of?"
Blood streamed more violently from the old man's eyes as he spoke again in a mysterious tone:
"This nightmare is not something to be taken lightly. There are many individuals within it—murderers of the highest order—who kill anyone in their path for their own gain. So be cautious… he may not be with you—but he is watching you."
Gehrman clenched his fist tightly, staring at time itself as it appeared to shift behind the old man. A being made of shadow emerged, its white eyes illuminating the place. The shadowy figure placed its hands around the old man's neck.
'Is this what the great ones are like? As if chaos and illogic gather around them. As if they exist beyond causality, or that causality doesn't even apply to them,' Gehrman thought silently, analyzing.
"You seem frightened, but there's no need for that. What you see is merely a reflection from the earth's past… it may appear before you as well," said the old man, placing his hand on the shadow as he spoke to Gehrman.
Then the old man continued:
"I see you've begun to analyze and reflect on complex dialogue. That's a good sign. Keep developing that—but be careful not to show it to someone who, just by looking at your body, can understand what you are thinking."
"To this point, everything you've said is shrouded in mystery. What is the message you're trying to give me?" Gehrman asked, his tone sharp.
The old man struck the ground three times with his sword. The earth trembled—and so did the void. The place erupted with a muted explosion.
A Victorian castle emerged from black clouds—chained down by massive pillars from below. A street appeared beneath the feet of Gehrman and the old man. On the left side, there was a small hill, with a modest house that contained only a single room.
Crimson-colored trees grew above, with multicolored leaves sprouting beneath the pillars. There were two skies—the first beneath Gehrman's feet, filled with white clouds and pouring rain.
Above was a red sky, with black clouds moving swiftly, lightning flashing violently—but with no sound.
"What is this place? I don't even know what to say," Gehrman whispered as he looked around.
The old man spoke in a tired, calm tone:
"This place… is the eternal rest where the mad one can find peace from the cosmic horrors of this world."
Then he continued:
"It has another name… but it would be more beautiful if I told you later."
"Does that mean I can visit you at any time?" Gehrman asked curiously.
The old man gave a sad, weary smile, then replied:
"Not all the time—but you can visit… when your madness and your insight reach their highest level. And the level I speak of… is when you hear the cry of the infant."
Gehrman grabbed his head, overwhelmed by a piercing pain—like a sword stabbing in and out. Red drops fell to the ground from his nose.
'That's right… when I heard the cry of that infant… it drove me mad… the pain…' Gehrman spoke to himself.
"Our conversation has reached its end, mad Lord's of nothing. It was a pleasure speaking with you. I hope we meet again… when you are well," said the old man, his voice heavy, as his tears bled once more.
Then he continued:
"I will tell you something. You may hear it from me or from someone else. With the rise of science, and the ignorant killing the one of greater cause, even wood may destroy iron. And mankind will move from horses to something greater—but he will fall back to zero when he crosses the grand lines."
He ended his words with a mighty sentence, speaking it clearly:
"The mad Lord of Nothing, who entered the nightmare with his head cut off."
As the old man finished his speech, Gehrman returned to his senses, leaning on the bridge near the gate of the Black Mountain. Ophelia was above him, watching from a distance.
Gehrman slowly opened his eyes, his gaze still foggy. Then he spoke to Ophelia in a faint tone:
"Ophelia."
She looked at him with a sincere smile, then knelt down and held his shoulder. She spoke with a voice that carried a quiet fear, though it was not entirely clear:
"You scared me. I thought you were dead."
Gehrman smiled weakly, placing all five fingers on his forehead and saying:
"It seems you were worried about me, beautiful."
Ophelia laughed and stood to her feet, replying:
"I was a little scared—but if you had died, you would've missed the fun."
She extended her hand toward Gehrman. He took it, smiling, then looked at her and said:
"We need to enter the Black Mountain. I don't want the others reaching the Clown's Grave before us and enjoying it without us."
Both of them smiled and stepped through the massive gate, which closed behind them as they entered. They walked along a narrow and winding path. Gehrman was overwhelmed with thoughts, but just by looking at Ophelia, he forgot everything.
"Looking at her… made me forget the hell of this world," he said softly to himself as he watched her.
Eventually, they reached a vast plaza. On either side, two colossal statues held swords dripping blood like rainfall. In front of them stood a train.
Gehrman was startled by the bizarre sight and said:
"What is that thing?"
Ophelia looked at him, surprised, and replied:
"It's a train. Haven't you seen one before?"
Gehrman was struck by her words, remembering the old man's warning about iron. The message had been about the train.
Gehrman spoke to himself as he processed the illogical turn into visible cosmic horror:
"The thing that makes man laugh the most… is staring into the unknown. And now, I gaze into the horror of the unknown itself."