Chapter Eight: The Multilayered World of Dreams

“A witch refers to a particular kind of woman who, having endured the most excruciating suffering, forms a connection with the abyssal deities.” Rui Sui Kazehane fixed her gaze on the computer screen, fingers ceaselessly scrolling the mouse wheel, her voice detached and ethereal as she spoke:

“Though the exact mechanism remains unclear, this connection is believed to be a sort of transaction: the witch offers an enormous amount of emotional pain, and the abyssal deity reciprocates with authority, endowing the witch with powers far surpassing those of ordinary people.”

Chen Ziang shivered involuntarily—why did this mechanism sound so familiar?

Wait, no, he traded fire-seed for power, whereas the witches traded pain. These were two entirely different things.

“Is such a transaction harmful?” he asked cautiously.

“Of course it is,” replied Rui Sui Kazehane. “Do you really think the kind of pain that attracts an abyssal deity is as trivial as being pricked by a needle?”

She paused, seemingly choosing her words carefully, then continued:

“Let me put it this way: nearly every witch documented in our intelligence files, without exception, exhibits severe antisocial tendencies and a powerful urge to destroy all things.”

“Evidently, even before receiving any benefit from the deity, they’ve already been driven to madness by overwhelming suffering. For example, consider this case.”

Rui Sui Kazehane pushed back her chair, turning the computer screen toward Chen Ziang.

Chen Ziang focused on the screen; it displayed a temporarily declassified report.

The report mentioned a woman named Miye Nishikawa, who lived in Sumida Town, more than two hundred kilometers from Arctic City.

Three years ago, one evening, Miye Nishikawa’s husband and two children were attacked by a pack of wild wolves on their way back to town. All three perished, leaving no remains behind.

Afterward, Miye Nishikawa refused compensation from the town office, demanding only that the wolves who had devoured her family be eradicated from the area.

However, according to the Twenty-Second Ecological Protection Act, the continental gray wolf is a nationally protected species; no organization or individual may kill them on any grounds.

The report ended there, the remainder encrypted and unreadable.

But Chen Ziang noticed an annotation beside the last paragraph of the declassified section, added by Rui Sui Kazehane:

Miye Nishikawa is suspected to have become a witch, and is likely connected to the more than five hundred unresolved cases of mysterious citizen disappearances.

“This Miye Nishikawa—she’s the one who placed the ‘Great Lord of the Deep Sea’ idol in Sky Silver Plaza?” Chen Ziang asked for confirmation.

“More or less,” Rui Sui Kazehane replied. “That’s what the divination indicates.”

“You can’t rely on divination results,” Chen Ziang retorted. “What if it’s wrong?”

“It’s just a suggestion to guide your follow-up investigation,” she replied indifferently. “I’m applying to unseal Miye Nishikawa’s files. Once the security level drops, you’ll be able to look her up on the internal network.”

She gave him a light shove, returning to her computer and implying he was free to go.

“Rui Sui,” Chen Ziang suddenly paused at the door. “Witches who gain power through these transactions with deities—their spiritual perception rises rapidly as well, doesn’t it?”

“Naturally,” she replied without turning. “When you draw energy directly from a deity, how could your spiritual perception possibly remain unchanged?”

“Though there’s a lack of hard data, it’s estimated that a witch’s spiritual perception is at least ten thousand. Their bodies are sheltered by the deity, so they don’t mutate uncontrollably, but they can scarcely be regarded as human anymore.”

“I see.” Chen Ziang secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

Since his own spiritual perception was still normal, he reasoned that he’d not been spiritually contaminated.

He left the Arctic City Department of Security, boarding the inter-district light rail to return home.

Chen Xiaozhu was still sitting in the rocking chair in the center of the living room, her empty gaze staring blankly ahead.

Chen Ziang spoke a few words to his younger sister, then went upstairs to his bedroom.

He took his usual mandala ritual sword, the spiritual pressure gauge his parents had left at home, and placed a rationality lozenge beneath his tongue. Chen Ziang lay down on the bed, closing his eyes.

Though he fully understood that exploring the world of the arcane came with myriad risks and hidden dangers, since the scientific world had already pronounced a death sentence on his sister, he had no choice but to seek greater power on the arcane side.

“Dreamwalking” power, activate.

——————

The moment he invoked the power, it was as if Chen Ziang lost all awareness.

But he soon regained consciousness, finding himself still lying on his bed, though outside the window day had given way to night.

He glanced quickly at the spiritual pressure gauge on his wrist and saw the number had jumped to 2.

In the waking world, the gauge always stayed at 0, only rising in the presence of anomalies.

Now, the dial read 2, with the decimal steady and unmoving, indicating he had left the surface layer of reality and descended into the arcane world.

If his knowledge was correct, he should be in the preconscious layer now.

Along with purchasing the “Dreamwalking” power, he had received knowledge on how to use it, much of it devoted to explaining the dreamworld.

The dreamworld was divided into four layers: the consciousness layer (a part of the waking world), the preconscious layer, the subconscious layer, and the collective subconscious layer.

The consciousness and preconscious layers could be considered his personal safehouse, where he would not encounter any anomalies.

From the subconscious layer onward, it was as if he’d stepped out into the yard from his house—still technically “personal territory,” but now vulnerable to intrusion by anomalies.

As for the collective subconscious layer, that was like leaving the yard and stepping onto the street, where anything might appear.

Chen Ziang rose from the bed, taking the mandala ritual sword in hand, moving warily to the window.

Outside was the small courtyard, empty beneath the night. The street beyond the courtyard wall, Tonegawa Road, was quiet and still, faintly lit by dusky streetlights.

In the preconscious world, everything reflected the inner thoughts of its master.

For example, since he had lain on his bed preparing to enter the dreamworld—his mind associated “bed” and “night,” so the world outside the window was night.

He pushed open his bedroom door and saw the living room light was on.

His sister, Chen Xiaozhu, was sitting in the rocking chair in the center of the room, eyes closed, as if sleeping.

Of course, he knew this was not his actual sister, but merely her image within his own consciousness.

Yet Chen Ziang could not help but walk over, studying his sister’s delicate sleeping face.

Xiaozhu was exquisitely pretty, in his eyes every bit as beautiful as Suzuna Tsukimiya.

Yet while Suzuna Tsukimiya could live freely in a sunlit world—traveling, falling in love, marrying, raising children, enjoying all the wonders of life—Xiaozhu could only remain in this dark, narrow house, enduring pain and darkness, day after day, year after year…

This was not the fate she deserved.

“This is not the fate you should have, Xiaozhu,” Chen Ziang gazed at his sister’s face, speaking with quiet resolve. “I will find a way to heal you.”

“I will bring you back.”

With that, he exhaled a long breath and sat down on the sofa beside Xiaozhu.

Closing his eyes, he once more activated the “Dreamwalking” power.

He entered the third layer—the subconscious.