Chapter 15: Nightmare

The suffocating darkness pulled him under, thick and heavy like liquid lead.

Crimson skies rained ash over burning cities, the deafening roars of ancient Abominations tearing through the sky while the screams of millions echoed in his ears.

He was trapped in the cold, unyielding iron chains of his past life—poisoned, weakened, watching the world burn while his power was stripped away by betrayal.

"My Lord! Lord Craig!"

Craig’s golden eyes snapped open with a sharp, ragged gasp.

He jolted upright on his mattress, his heart hammering violently against his ribs like a trapped beast.

Cold sweat soaked his linen shirt, sticking to his chest as his chest heaved for breath.

Standing right beside the bed was Ser Hughway, his hand hovering near his sword hilt, a deep look of concern and anxiety carved into his weathered face.

"My Lord... are you alright?" Hughway asked softly, his sharp eyes scanning Craig’s pale face.

Craig sat on the edge of the silk sheets, running a trembling hand through his long, damp crimson hair.

He forced his wild, frantic breathing to slow down, bringing his emotions under control.

"I am fine, Hughway," Craig said, his voice slightly raspy. He looked up at the Lord Commander.

"Is there a problem?"

Ser Hughway paused, studying his liege for a brief second before letting out a quiet sigh.

The tension in his shoulders eased, and a warm smile touched his lips.

"No problem at all, My Lord," Hughway replied respectfully. "I merely came to inform you that the royal dark-steel carriage has been fully prepared.

The guard escort is mounted and awaiting your command. However, before we depart for the City of Dragons, you must have your lunch."

Craig blinked, adjusting his posture. "What time is it?"

"It is just past midday, My Lord," Hughway answered.

Craig turned his head, casting his golden gaze toward the arched stained-glass windows of his bedchamber.

Outside, the midday sun sat high in the sky, drenching the White Rose Palace in warm, golden light.

The suffocating ash and blood of his vision vanished, replaced by the quiet, peaceful grounds of his barony.

He heaved a deep, quiet sigh of relief. It was just a dream.

He was back.

Craig swung his legs over the edge of the bed and pushed himself up onto his feet.

Ser Hughway slightly frowned, stepping closer as he noticed the lingering pale tint on Craig’s face.

"My Lord... were you experiencing a nightmare?"

Craig paused for a split second, then turned to face his commander with a light, easy smile.

"No, Hughway. I am perfectly fine. Besides... all this effort has made me quite hungry."

Hughway knew his young master was hiding something, but seeing the calm resolve in Craig’s golden eyes, he chose not to pry any further.

He simply bowed his head, stepping aside to let his liege pass. "The dining hall has been prepared for you, My Lord."

Craig walked down the grand marble hallway of the White Rose Palace, his long crimson hair swaying against his shoulders.

His face was a mask of aristocratic calmness, but beneath his quiet exterior, his eyebrows were deeply furrowed.

He had lied to Ser Hughway.

It wasn’t just a simple bad dream—it was a vivid, agonizing nightmare that pulled him right back into the absolute despair of his previous timeline.

In his sleep, he had relived every agonizing moment: the insidious poison degrading his veins, the agonizing helplessness as his mana core withered, and the catastrophic arrival of the Second Apocalypse that tore the Western Continent apart.

Craig tightened his hand into a tight fist, his knuckles turning white.

’The Second Apocalypse...’ he thought, his blood boiling with a cold, terrifying fury.

In his past life, he had been too weak, too broken, and too late to stop the tide of continental extinction.

But now, given a second chance, he would rewrite history.

He had to stop the coming doom at all costs.

And to do that, he couldn’t just grow strong—he needed to grow strong at a speed that defied the laws of this world.

Reaching the end of the corridor, Craig reached out and pushed open the heavy mahogany doors of the grand dining hall.

The room was bathed in sunlight, and the massive dark-oak dining table was piled high with a lavish feast—roasted game meats, rich dark-grape wines, imperial soups, freshly baked pastries, and exotic fruits brought from the southern provinces.

However, the moment Craig’s eyes swept over the room, his gaze darkened into a frigid, icy glare.

Standing right beside the head of the table, holding a silver tray with a delicate porcelain teacup, was Arya.

She wore a clean, pale blue maid’s dress, looking every bit the dutiful, gentle servant.

When Craig stepped into the room, her eyes lit up, and she bowed her head with a sweet, completely innocent smile.

"Good afternoon, Lord Baron," Arya greeted smoothly, her voice like honey.

Craig’s face remained completely devoid of emotion.

He gave her a short, cold nod and walked past her without slowing his stride.

Taking his seat at the very head of the table, he leaned back into the high-backed velvet chair and crossed his legs.

"Why are you here, Arya?" Craig asked, his voice calm, flat, and chillingly distant.

Arya kept that gentle, bright smile on her face as she stepped closer, holding the silver tray with dainty hands.

"I was simply wondering... will the Lord Baron be taking me to the City of Dragons as well?"

Craig looked at her, his golden eyes unblinking.

"And why should I take you?"

Arya’s smile broadened slightly, her tone soft and persuasive. "My elder brother serves directly under the Governor of the City of Dragons, My Lord.

It has been over three years since I last saw him. I was hoping... if it pleases the Lord Baron, that I might accompany the retinue so I may pay him a short visit."

Craig watched her closely.

In his past life, he had fallen for this exact innocent routine, foolishly believing her lies and bringing her along, completely unaware that her brother was an operative working for his rival siblings to ensure his downfall.

A slow, subtle smile touched Craig’s lips—a mask of pleasant support.

"Is that so?" Craig replied smoothly, pretending to be convinced. "A reunion between siblings is a noble cause. Very well, Arya. You may join the retinue."

Arya’s eyes sparkled with genuine excitement.

"Thank you, My Lord! You are truly merciful!"

She carefully observed Craig for a few silent seconds, making sure his guard was completely down.

Then, with practiced, delicate movements, she lifted the porcelain teacup from her tray and placed it gently on the table right beside his plate.

A faint, subtle steam rose from the liquid, carrying a faint scent of sweet jasmine—completely masking the dark, insidious trace of mana-corrupting herb woven into the brew.

"Lord Baron," Arya urged softly, her eyes wide with fake devotion. "I brewed this special tea for you. It calms the mind and stabilizes the spirit. Please, drink it before we begin our journey. It will prepare your body for the sacred Dragon’s Calling."

’This persistent bitch...’ Craig growled inwardly, a terrifying surge of hatred thrashing inside his soul.

Yet, on the outside, his smile didn’t flicker for a single second.

"How thoughtful of you, Arya," Craig said softly.

He reached out with his gloved hand and accepted the cup, wrapping his fingers around the warm porcelain.

Arya’s heart leaped in her chest. She nearly jumped in triumph right then and there.

She stood rooted to the spot, her eyes glued to the cup, desperately waiting to watch him swallow the liquid that would permanently wreck his core.

Craig raised the cup slightly, then paused, his golden eyes slicing up to meet hers.

"You are dismissed, Arya," Craig ordered coldly. "I prefer to eat my meals in absolute solitude."

Arya blinked, disappointment flashing across her face for a fraction of a second before she quickly masked it.

She knew better than to push a Darkstar noble when an explicit order was given.

"Of course, My Lord," Arya bowed deeply, taking a step back. "Please enjoy your meal."

She turned and glided out of the dining hall, closing the massive mahogany doors softly behind her.

The exact second the heavy doors clicked shut, the pleasant smile on Craig’s face shattered completely.

His expression twisted into an absolute, horrific darkness.

His golden eyes flared with a lethal, murderous hatred that filled the entire room with a suffocating chill.

CLINCH!

Craig’s fingers tightened violently around the delicate cup.

The fine porcelain shattered instantly under his sheer physical strength, exploding into tiny fragments as the toxic, mana-corrupting tea splashed uselessly across the wooden tabletop, dripping onto the floor like

"Tch, this rat doesn’t just know when to give up" Craig snorted.