Chapter 211

Chapter 211

Despite the decision to open the Dream World to players, Lane still needed to visit it himself to understand its depths.

Even if players were immortal, if they couldn't explore more than a few steps before disappearing, the map's appeal would undoubtedly decrease. The Dream World was a nightmare-level difficulty map even in the late stages of the public beta.

In his previous life, Lane had never obtained the Dream Inducing Potion. He only knew about its brutality from forum discussions and had never personally witnessed it. Therefore, with a save point in hand, he planned to investigate it first-hand.

Back in the Divine Realm, before using his ability to open the door, Lane created more black minions, assigning them to guard the hospital and the central courtyard, especially the courtyard at the entrance point. If any creature attempted to return to reality, they would intercept.

After the tree-like creatures resembling offspring of the Black Goat surrounded the area, a sandglass symbol flashed before Lane, indicating that a Time Mark had been released there. In case of an unbeatable crisis or an evil god blocking the entrance, he could quickly rewind time back to the present.

With all preparations complete, he took a deep breath and opened the 'door.'

The black gate adorned with the Kabbalistic Tree of Life opened once again. Lane inhaled deeply, maintaining his human appearance as he stepped forward.

"Pop!"

It felt like popping a bubble. Lane sensed himself breaking through a thin membrane, followed by one foot touching the soft grass.

"This is...?"

The good news was that, this time, they didn't encounter the bare-skinned giant's arm as before.

But where were they?

Looking around, Lane found himself in a forest on the brink of death.

It was called a forest on the brink of death because the soil here was black, and the plants and trees growing were deformed, exuding an eerie sense of withering vitality.

At this moment, the butterfly on Lane's shoulder stirred.

Lane couldn't help but look at the butterfly, the Soul Devouring Butterfly. Although it had been useful once, it hadn't been of much use afterward, what with the dreamland and the players. By the time Lane regained his senses, he had already mastered the power of the Old God, leaving no room for the A-grade abnormality to make its presence felt.

Now, its most noticeable role was pollinating flowers in Lane's Divine Kingdom and perching on his shoulder as a decorative accessory when he met the players.

Since the Soul Devouring Butterfly was usually quiet, Lane either forgot about its existence or simply regarded it as a decoration.

Hmm... when did it follow me?

As Lane was lost in thought, he saw the Soul Devourer Butterfly suddenly take flight from his shoulder. It fluttered its wings in the air, seemingly having detected something, and flew off in a particular direction.

Lane pondered for a moment before following the butterfly's lead.

They ventured deeper into the forest. The more they progressed, the more certain Lane became of his conjecture. To an outsider, the forest might seem eerie yet lush, but from the perspective of Lane, who wielded the Pantheon's divine essence of Nature and Forests, the woods were mostly dead. The soil lacked vitality, and even weeds found it difficult to survive here.

...But why does this place seem so familiar?

Lane's expression wavered for a moment. He had an uncanny feeling that he'd seen this forest before. At that moment, the Soul Devourer Butterfly finally halted its flight path. Lane snapped back to reality and realized that the butterfly had led him to a nearby swamp.

Oddly enough, there were many cocoon-like structures hanging from the trees in this area.

What are those?

Under Lane's watchful gaze, the graceful Soul Devourer Butterfly landed on one of the cocoons. Its long proboscis injected something inside, then it took off again and landed on another cocoon.

This process repeated. Once the Soul Devourer Butterfly finished its task, the withered-looking cocoons stirred. Soon after, several blackish-red butterflies emerged, circling around Lane's butterfly as if expressing gratitude.

Afterward, these larger butterflies noticed Lane standing below, observing them.

"Chirp?!"

Lan was taken aback. It was his first time hearing a butterfly make a sound. Did Soul Devouring Butterflies actually have the ability to vocalize?

Before he could react, he saw these butterflies frantically protecting the trees behind them, as well as the layers of cocoons on the branches, as if they were afraid their home would be destroyed.

Lan: ????

"Chirp chirp chirp! (The Wreaker of Worlds is back again! Quickly, move the cocoons away!)"

The butterflies called out again. Strangely enough, this time Lan understood what they were saying.

But who was the Wreaker of Worlds they were referring to? Was it him??

At that moment, a sudden intuition stirred within Lan. That familiar feeling triggered a memory, and he instinctively manipulated the power of dreams. The Dream World responded without hesitation.

In an instant, repressed memories flooded his mind.

Back then, the surrounding forest seemed to be in a much better state than what Lan was currently seeing. At least the plants were still bizarre but still vibrant. This place was the territory of the Soul Devouring Butterflies. As an A-level anomaly, even in this terrifying forest, they held a high position in the food chain. Larger monsters also feared their ability to drain life and souls, so the butterfly population lived comfortably here.

Until the arrival of a mischievous child.

A significantly smaller version of himself appeared beside Lane, and with wide-eyed wonder, he climbed the tree, disturbing the cocoons where the Soul Devouring Butterflies rested, then carelessly tossing them down and even stomping on one out of curiosity.

Soon after, intrigued by the crisp sound of the broken cocoon, young Lane's gaze locked onto the others hanging in the tree.

When the Soul Devouring Butterflies returned from their hunt, they were met with the horrifying sight of their home destroyed.

And there, sitting amidst the ruins of the cocoons, was the clueless child, laughing happily, "Butterfly... butterfly."

The patterns on the Soul Devouring Butterflies grew even redder, seemingly fueled by anger. Their exquisite and deadly wings fluttered, and hundreds of them formed a swarming, sun-obscuring cloud in the sky, descending upon the child.

Suddenly, a few shadowy tentacles shot out from the shadows, wrapping around the butterflies like a curtain. A towering giant, over two meters tall, silently emerged from the forest's depths. His rough, large hands grabbed the tentacles and the ensnared butterflies, ruthlessly slamming them into the ground.

The child clapped happily at the scene, while Len watched the giant intently from the moment he appeared.

Ogar...

He instinctively took a step forward but passed through the shadowy tentacles, realizing that this was just a memory.

He continued to watch the scene with mixed feelings. After the giant smashed the Soul Devouring Butterflies a few times and retracted into the shadows, the butterflies remained dazed on the ground, unable to regain their composure. At that moment, Little Lane stepped forward and playfully pinched one of the butterfly's wings out of curiosity.

The Soul Devouring Butterfly was desperate to resist and show its young the might of an A-rank creature, but under the giant's deathly gaze from within the shadows, it ultimately lacked the courage...

It had tragically become a toy for the child.

The memory ended there.

Lane closed his eyes. There was nothing left for him to ponder now. If he previously merely found this forest familiar, he could now confidently affirm that this was indeed the forest where he had once lived with Ogur.

As expected, upon entering the Dream World, he felt like a fish in water, free and at ease. It was as if he had returned to the Divine Realm, albeit not quite the same level of absolute control he experienced there. Nevertheless, it was still much better than reality. The Dream World truly was the place where Old Gods belonged.

In that moment, he had also tapped into the power of dreams, successfully unearthing this memory. With a stroll through the forest, it seemed that his recollections would gradually return.

However...

Lane glanced at the Soul Devouring Butterflies and noticed they were already attempting to move the cocoons, as if preparing to relocate. A few larger butterflies had instinctively blocked the ones he had brought back, akin to protective parents forbidding their children from playing with strangers. He was momentarily filled with exasperation.

Although he might not possess memories from his past life... Was he really that mischievous as a child?

The growth of Old Gods also takes time. In their juvenile form, they are generally at their most vulnerable throughout their existence. Confronting a Grade A Aberration, the Soul Devouring Butterfly, head-on would certainly not be a wise choice.

A foreboding sensation suddenly gripped Lane. Wait a moment—was he about to witness his own embarrassing childhood history?!

As it turned out, Lane's guess was correct.

In the real world, he was like Tang Sanzang to monsters – irresistible. Yet, in this forest, the reaction of the anomalies to Lane was entirely different. Wherever he went, those creatures, or the unique species of the dream world, would flee immediately.

Lahn: ...

With each step he took, memories stirred, confirming how much of a nuisance he had been in his childhood, wreaking havoc among the countless forest dwellers and even provoking passing Grade A anomalies with idle kicks out of curiosity.

His survival until now was solely due to the vigilant protection of his male caregiver.

Unbeknownst to him, the Soul-devouring Butterflies and other fleeing creatures were frantically spreading a message: The Chaos Ruler had returned, and they all needed to flee!

As Lane ventured deeper into the forest, he noticed a distinct decrease in monster encounters. As if forewarned, they dared only to sneakily peer at him from the shadows.

Though they believed themselves to be stealthy, their presence was all too obvious to the favored child of the Dream World, the Old God. However, with Lane preoccupied in recollecting his past and feeling a touch of guilt, he temporarily ignored these gazes.

Wait, wasn't the Shadow Giant following the Chaos Overlord?

The Black Dryad, also an A-rank anomaly, observed stealthily, sensing that it might have discovered a blind spot.

Were they afraid of the mischievous child before? No, it was actually the giant blindly defending him! But now, that giant seemed to be absent. Wasn't this their chance for revenge?

The Black Death Dryad, whose shadow from the child had made it overlook its subconscious fondness and fear of Lane, confidently thought so. It commanded its kin to disguise themselves as trees and lie in ambush.

While Lane walked ahead with his eyes closed, exposing all his vulnerabilities, the ground around him swelled with twisted ridges as if something was wriggling beneath. The moment the black dryad gave the order, black branches surged out of the earth like spears, aiming for Lane's face.

Lane opened his eyes, his emerald gaze still calm as he faced the incoming branch.

In that instant, he invoked the authority of Pan. From the lifeless soil emerged tender shoots, seemingly fragile yet tenaciously holding back the attacking black branch.

Though he successfully thwarted the ambush, Lane frowned. As he communicated with the land just then, the authority of Pan had shaken violently, connecting with the soil beneath his feet.

From the depths of the nearly lifeless soil, a faint vitality emerged. In that instant, Lane couldn't help revealing his true form as Pan, instantly understanding the nature of this forest.

This appeared to be the former Pan's divine realm, which had lost its vitality with the previous deity's death and the succeeding Pan's departure. However, since his arrival, there were signs of rejuvenation.

The Black Dryad was stunned, not just because her attack had been blocked, but also because of the true form that Lane had revealed.

Curling ram's horns, snowy white fleece, and the scent of nature they knew so well.

The Primordial God of Pastures, who was supposed to have perished, had astonishingly reemerged.

Black Dryad: :Q_uQ

"A child from my past, whose mischievous antics left a lasting psychological shadow, has now unexpectedly become my overlord?"

Oh, the absurdity, and the longing for death.

These were the thoughts of the Black Tree Spirit at this moment.

At this time, Lane also awakened the last fragment of his memory, along with the full mastery of the land he stood upon through the authority of the Pantheon.

In simple terms, this was indeed the divine kingdom of the previous Pantheon, where after the former deity's demise, its subjects and followers had gone mad, akin to crazed dogs without a master, attacking any passerby who dared to venture into the forest. Thus, this place had truly become a silent domain of death.

In doing so, however, it also placed them in the dark shadows beneath both the Evil God and the Old Gods, becoming a temporary refuge for Ogar and Lane. The location where he currently was – no, the area surrounding this forest – happened to be tainted by the Evil God, a dead zone with only a cave river leading to other regions. Thus, any commotion wouldn't attract the attention of the Old Gods. After all, They were preoccupied with Their own survival. With this in mind, Lane looked at the black treant that obediently emerged from the shadows. Judging from its form, it was another one of the former Pastoral God's vassal races. From his memories, they resembled the oak ents in Western fantasy games, acting as protectors of the forest and brimming with vitality. However, perhaps due to the pollution, the black treants were quite disturbing to look at. They barely resembled humanoids, their bodies covered in countless black branches that wriggled like tentacles or snakes, causing discomfort to onlookers. Under Lane's curious gaze, the black treant leader silently led its kin out and slowly crouched down. "Rustle rustle rustle (Honorable Pastoral God, if You are willing to take charge of the forest, please allow us to offer our loyalty.)" No matter how expletives raged in the black treant leader's heart, they had no other choice now that the Pastoral God had returned. The surroundings of the forest were contaminated by the Evil God. If the forest were to die or become thoroughly tainted, they would be doomed. The guardians of the cave river wouldn't accept them either. Their only option, if they didn't wish to turn into mad monsters or die, was to pledge allegiance to the new Pastoral God.

Lane didn't respond immediately but continued to sense the state of the forest.

If he could only be considered half a player in the real world, in the Dream World, he was like an empowered GM (Game Manager), given authority by the system. He could freely switch to an overhead view, effortlessly grasping the surrounding map.

Firstly, the location of this forest was indeed desolate. The area around it was covered in black soil, and one could occasionally witness bizarre creatures fighting frenziedly. These creatures were usually large in size and had multiple limbs or even a dozen eyes.

The expanse of the black soil was so vast that Lane wondered if the entire continent had been contaminated by an evil god, with only the river flowing westward from the forest seemingly extending into another region...

Lane's silence seemed to have misinterpreted something in the black treant's mind. Its limbs stiffened, and the human-like features on its trunk displayed a disappointed expression, preparing to leave.

At this moment, Lane had finished scanning the surrounding map and noticed, puzzled, that the black treants were silently retreating.

"Haven't you said you would offer your loyalty to me?"

The black treant paused, its swaying branches becoming anxious. "Y-You... Are you willing?"

Though it was frustrating to have to swear loyalty to a brat, for the sake of survival, what was the point of being bullied? They were used to it anyway, right? QAQ

"May you have better luck," Lane said with a meaningful tone.

He intended to probe whether revealing a fraction of his power in this world would draw the attention of evil gods and ancient deities. If successful, players venturing into the Dreamworld for exploration would undoubtedly gain an additional stronghold for resupply and support.

Should it fail, it's merely a matter of losing a save point, and I can always attempt again tomorrow.

Well, of course, it was also a bit of an apology from Lane, for having bullied these creatures since he was a child.

The black tree spirit didn't quite grasp Lann's intention, and it seemed the latter had no intention of explaining either. Driven by instinct, it retrieved a shepherd's flute and gently placed it to its lips.

In mythology, the shepherd god was renowned for his flute-playing, often serenading the hillsides accompanied by enchanted creatures. However, in the origins of the Dream World, the shepherd's pipe is not merely an instrument; it is a divine tool that fosters the land's vitality and draws the inhabitants closer.

Previously, when Lane had used his shepherd's flute to draw the bizarre gazes of all Arkham, it had given rise to countless spiritual seeds. In the Dreamworld, this effect proved equally pronounced.

The wraiths, invisible but not intangible, could sense the land stirring beneath Lane's melody. Seeds, one by one, pierced through the dark soil, as if awakened from their eternal slumber.

The Soul Devouring Butterflies, who were previously in the midst of relocating and departing, paused their movement.

In the heart of the forest, the peculiar creatures, in their revelry, lifted their heads and, instinctively, began to move toward the origin of the flute's melody.

Ah, it has been far too long, far too long.

Was it the sigh of this land once sacred to the gods, or the lingering sorrow of those who still dwell in the forest?

How long had it been since he last heard that melody?

The ground began to tremble beneath their feet.

The withered trees stirred back to life, and the Soul-devouring Butterflies altered their course. Other creatures, too, instinctively rushed towards the origin of the music.

Len closed his eyes gently, sensing an ever-deepening connection to the dreamworld through the earth beneath him, his mastery over it growing stronger.

As was the case when he entered the seventh level previously, he seemed to transcend time and space once more, witnessing numerous visions. It wasn't just the grandest war between the Old Gods and the Malevolent Gods that took place tens of thousands of years ago in the Dream Realm.

The Norse apocalypse known as Ragnarök, the decline of the polytheistic pantheon in Greek mythology, and the Five Declines of Heaven in Buddhism...

Countless myths subtly hint at a shared conclusion: the decline and eventual death of gods. It's difficult to say whether this great war played a part in that narrative. The once peaceful Dreamworld, under the corrupting influence of evil deities, saw the emergence of countless lifeless zones. And the madness of the Perfect Beings proved to be the final straw that broke the camel's back.

Lan’s melodious flute notes stumbled, and his eyelids quivered.

In that vision, the initial clash between the Old Gods and the Corrupt Gods had been evenly matched, if not advantageous to the Old Gods, for They had the support of the entire Dreamworld.

Yet their subjects had gone mad.

Powerful Wielders could influence the surrounding Dreamworld and even strengthen their lords through specific 'mythical rituals.' In contrast, the madness of their subjects could deal a fatal blow to their beleaguered lords.

Through the Wielders, the Evil Gods successfully corrupted the Old Ones, utterly reversing the tide of war.

Countless Old Ones fell, including the Shepherd.

And now, the forest they stood in was the last remaining Divine Realm left by the deceased Shepherd, who wished for it to protect its surviving kin after its own demise.

Indeed, despite the betrayal, the Shepherd held no resentment towards its subjects. At least, Len couldn't sense any from the land; only lingering regret and sorrow remained.

What kind of intricate relationship existed between the Old Ones... and the Wielders?

Regaining composure, Len's flute melody flowed smoothly once more. However, to avoid attracting the attention of the Evil God in the sky, the forest appeared unchanged on the surface. Only those who had lived here for untold generations could perceive the resurgence of life within the soil.

When Len opened his eyes, he found himself surrounded by various bizarre creatures and kin. They silently watched him, the new Shepherd. Among them, a few kin with discernible expressions wore complicated ones, but they soon bowed their heads, acknowledging their submission.