I stood before the Demon of Dreams, facing all its profane glory.
When it opened its eyes, its pupils trembled violently before stopping and focusing on me.
In the next moment, a scream flooded the black void… a scream like a knife scraping against glass.
This thing had no mouth, so who knew where that sound came from?
The tentacles moved, purple energy flowing within them—and so did I. My essence stirred and enveloped me, then I condensed it in my hand, forming a blade of raw essence.
It wasn't long, only about thirty centimeters, but it was better than fighting barehanded and throwing punches at this slimy thing.
The emotions I had sealed away earlier surged within me and turned into raw rage… after all, who wouldn't feel something after killing their family, even if they were just fog-covered copies?
But I didn't let the anger cloud my judgment.
I advanced toward the Demon of Dreams.
Of course, it didn't just watch.
