Chapter 61: Subconscious Encounter

Chapter 61: Chapter 61: Subconscious Encounter

In the dark, illusory space, pale blue specks of light hovered and floated, fluttering like a swarm of lost fireflies.

Despite carrying only a feeble light, amidst the endless, silent veil of night, they were so radiant that they made it impossible for anyone to look away.

According to basic settings, every object existing in a fictional space is a projection from the subconscious. The anomaly present before his eyes at this moment proved one thing: the state of mind of the master of this spatial dimension had just undergone a violent fluctuation.

Jeremy narrowed his eyes to observe, while simultaneously attempting to mobilize the flow of magic power surging in his body to cast a Light-element magic. His fingertips barely moved, and a blinding orb of light flared up, dispelling the thick layer of fog.

At that exact moment, the lingering doubt in his heart was instantly resolved. It seemed the reason he could not use magic power during the previous two times did not lie in the rejection by the space’s master, but simply because the level of the magic matrix back then was too low.

Thanks to the guiding light, the full view of the deathland became crystal clear. Beneath his feet were white bones piled high into mountains, and churning, thick fog wrapped around pitch-black, withered ancient trees. This place was like a giant graveyard devoid of a single trace of vitality. The only thing bearing a hint of gentle color was perhaps only the pale blue specks of light obediently surrounding him.

Jeremy withdrew his gaze, stretched to loosen his joints, and then followed his memory, walking straight toward the door of light. The very second the tip of his shoe touched past the boundary of the door, a flash of lightning sparked in his palm, instantly summoning his Sacred Weapon.

Just as expected, the swarm of vengeful ghosts, upon catching the scent of a human, frantically lunged over, their shrieks tearing at his eardrums. Their numbers were so vast that they even obscured his vision; moreover, these monsters, once severed, could condense their forms back together, making it an absurd notion to try and eradicate them at the root.

However, their realms were pitifully low. It seemed the sole meaning of existence for these vengeful spirits was merely to tear at and torment the youth bound by shackles amidst the array over there.

Jeremy clicked his tongue softly. He truly could not fathom exactly how twisted one’s psychology had to be for a person to erect such a miserable subconscious world to punish themselves.

Having no free time to stand around and sigh, he decisively stomped his foot, unleashing a summoning skill to call forth three shadow clones, while simultaneously stacking the "Domain of Death" skill. The ground shook violently. Tens of thousands of undead from beneath the pitch-black soil broke through the surface in the blink of an eye, carrying a sky-high murderous intent as they lunged into the swarm of vengeful ghosts to bite and tear.

Under the shared firepower of the undead legion and the three clones, the pressure on Jeremy’s shoulders lessened considerably, completely lacking the struggling disadvantage of his previous visit. The Sacred Weapon in his hand transformed into a giant scythe, its sharp, cold blade tearing through the wind as it lunged forward.

Taking firm, long strides, he advanced toward the pile of white bones. Vengeful ghosts blocking the way? No need to dodge, the scythe swung up, chopping down every single one that came, the movements neat and fluid, as decisive as if he were casually clearing brushwood. Consider it him venting a bit of hatred for being battered terribly during his previous visit.

Jeremy cleared a path straight to the edge of the white bone pile. Just as he leaned forward to get a clear look at the face of the one bound by shackles, right when the distance was exactly five paces away, a murky, dark red barrier wall abruptly rose from the void, blocking the tip of his shoe.

Jeremy halted, the tip of his scythe tapping lightly against the ground. Subconscious rejection?

He cast his eyes to assess the youth sinking deep into the black mist. The person’s head was bowed low, his breathing as fragile as a thread hanging a bell, his body almost falling into a state of clinical death. The vengeful ghosts surrounding him had mostly been drawn away by his undead army, but the meager few remaining still clung stubbornly, continuously biting and tearing. The obscuring black mist was too thick; let alone facial contours, Jeremy couldn’t even make out his hair color.

Jeremy tapped his scythe against the barrier, calling out a few times in a probing tone. Answering him was only the howling of the wind and malicious ghosts. The other party seemed to have sunk into unconsciousness.

Raising an eyebrow, Jeremy waved his hand to cast all sorts of magic. But the bizarre thing was, this wall of blood not only deflected all physical attacks, but even the illuminating Light-element magic or the fog-dispelling Wind-element magic was swallowed whole without leaving a trace. An absolute lockdown.

Keep pushing stubbornly? No, Jeremy retracted his Sacred Weapon and took two steps back. After all, the main purpose of this trip had already been achieved: he had found out the reason why he couldn’t use magic power. Ramming his head to break through someone else’s subconscious rejection was a bit impolite. Furthermore, in a consciousness space, the ego of the master is the law. Here, that wall was invincible; trying to use brute force was useless.

Jeremy rubbed his wrist, just about to turn around and find a few vengeful ghosts to kill for amusement while waiting for the magic matrix to automatically dissipate, when a cold, hoarse voice suddenly rang out, tearing through the mist.

"Is this the extent of your patience?"

Jeremy stopped in his tracks. So he had been awake this entire time?

The voice transmitting from behind was like a piece of jade striking a freezing stream, deep and carrying an indescribable charm. At that exact moment, even though he still hadn’t clearly seen the person’s appearance, a name instantly popped into Jeremy’s head.

He slowly turned around, his gaze piercing through the dark red veil, and probed with a call: "Lucius?"

The youth behind the barrier seemed to let out a cold snort. He lifted his head, his gaze as sharp as a dagger pinning Jeremy down. His bloodshot pupils were covered by a layer of deadly mist, twisting in dark emotions. The murderous intent overflowing in every word he spat out was like a venomous snake slithering down the listener’s spine:

"Arriving uninvited three times, and now you even mistake me for someone else?"

Jeremy fell silent, his thumb unconsciously rubbing lightly against the scythe’s hilt. The voice of Lucius D’Arsy was normally skillfully wrapped in feigned gentleness, his speaking rhythm always leisurely and clinging like a lover; only when he was too lazy to act did he reveal his indifferent true nature.

The person in front of him right now had an icier tone, his phrasing decisive and carrying a sharp, much more mature aura. But the core vocal cord was absolutely impossible to mistake.

A thought flashed through Jeremy’s mind. Could it be that Lucius in the real world was completely unaware of the existence of this spatial dimension, so the memories between the main body and the consciousness body were completely severed?

Feeling this was the most logical explanation, he nonchalantly shoved his hands into his pockets, jutted his chin, and asked: "Then what is your name?"

"Forgot," the other casually spat out two words.

The curt answer further consolidated Jeremy’s speculation. From the corner of his eye, he swept over the pile of white bones and the hideous monsters. This scene was originally an inner projection.

This place was desolate, no different from abyssal ruins; exactly how shattered must that guy Lucius’s mental state be to spawn this mess? No wonder his mood was usually as unpredictable as the weather, his temperament twisted.

"Not planning to tell me?" The youth inside the barrier suddenly spoke up, interrupting his train of thought.

Jeremy withdrew his gaze and calmly asked: "Tell what?"

"Name."

Seeing that the other party was truly wiped clean of reality’s memories, Jeremy didn’t hesitate, standing up straight and saying loudly: "Jeremy Valmont."

He tactfully swallowed back the name Lucius, afraid that calling it out straight might trigger a fit from this madman, so he cautiously added: "Then how should I appropriately address you?"

The other’s voice rang out almost at the same time: "In the real world, what is our relationship?"

The two questions collided in mid-air. Jeremy frowned. Having no real-world memory, yet clearly recognizing himself as merely a consciousness body and not the main body?

While he was still analyzing, the person curled his lips, spitting out a speculation full of malice: "Enemies?"

Not bad, an excellent answer.

The corner of Jeremy’s mouth twitched slightly, and going along with his words, he smiled and nodded: "Guessed perfectly."

The youth stared at the young master of the Valmont family for a moment, his chest vibrating slightly. He suddenly burst into loud laughter, the gloomy sound echoing through the space.

"...Cyril."