Chapter 94: Isn't It Nice to Live a Perfect Life in a Dream? |
Cold sweat trickled down their temples. Both security officers were now more nervous than ever.
If Celt was merely a powerful Law Seeker—one roughly on par with their Chief in strength—then they might still have a chance to escape with some effort. With a little extra push, they might even be able to take him down right here.
But if the person before them was a Law Contemplator... then the situation was entirely different.
Forget about strength for a moment—just the fact that they were "hard to communicate with" was already a massive headache.
Law Contemplators were all madmen. That was basically common knowledge.
The last thing they wanted was to face a powerful lunatic.
Seeing them acting as if they were facing a great enemy, Celt found it incredibly amusing.
He lightly raised his hand, making a downward pressing gesture.
Instantly, the overwhelming pressure radiating from him subsided.
The two security officers immediately felt a weight lift off their shoulders and breathed a sigh of relief.
"I told you, there's no need to be so wary of me," Celt said gently.
The two officers, now well-behaved, nodded in unison.
Their gun muzzles drooped, no longer aimed at Celt and Sereia.
Firearms were useless now anyway. Pointing them at him would only serve to provoke him.
"However, I don't dislike your dutiful behavior either," Celt said in a tender tone. "After all, you're people who would step forward to stop even a strange, powerful Law Seeker. That sense of responsibility is quite admirable."
The two officers exchanged glances, then immediately nodded again.
Yes, yes, they also greatly appreciated their own professional integrity.
But if they'd known Celt was this fierce, they would've run long ago.
Shaking his head with a smile, the Travel Guide floated up from Celt's hand, rising just a little.
His right hand, which had been supporting the book, turned over and moved above the pages, coming to rest in the middle.
The book automatically flipped six pages. Six blank pages stood upright, pinched between Celt's fingers.
Then, with a slight force from his fingers, these six pages were torn off.
The torn pages were held in his hand. Quickly, intricate patterns and words appeared on them. The paper's texture also changed, becoming a bit stiffer and shrinking in size.
In just a few seconds, those six originally blank pages rapidly transformed into six exquisite rectangular, hard-shelled paper tickets.
Celt restrained his aura and stepped forward slowly, handing the six tickets to the two security officers.
"Here, take them," he said with a smile.
"Our [Theater] plans to establish a theater in Reins sometime soon. When it's done, you can come and show your support, alright?"
Perhaps because of the Law Mark "Tuner," Celt's voice was incredibly pleasant to listen to, like a spring breeze caressing one's face.
Even the tense security officers couldn't help but relax.
After a moment of hesitation, the taller officer reached out and took the ticket.
"May I ask... when should we come to watch?" the shorter officer asked cautiously.
"Why, after the theater is built, of course," Celt replied with a light laugh. "Construction hasn't even started yet."
"Uh... then, may I ask where it will be?"
"Haven't decided yet~."
"Then... the name?"
"Haven't thought of that yet either~."
"Ah... I see..."
The shorter officer let out an awkward laugh.
Sure enough, this was a centuries-old [Absurdity] monster. He did whatever came to his mind.
"We're going to look around some more. You two go ahead and patrol elsewhere."
Celt began ushering them away.
Without hesitation, the two officers obediently turned and left.
They had to get back and file a report, to report that another old monster had appeared here.
Celt watched them go, a smile on his face.
Once they were far enough away, Celt walked over to a homeless man not far away.
He was a man who was nothing but skin and bones.
But more than a man, he now resembled a leather sack stripped of its bones.
He barely managed to stand in a nearly twisted posture.
His head hung so low it was almost buried in his dirty, tattered front. His tangled, matted hair looked like an oil-stained bird's nest.
The rag that could barely be called "clothes" on his body had long lost its original color, caked with layers of grime and emitting a sour stench even more potent than a garbage heap.
Clearly, he was a drug addict.
With all the commotion just now, this homeless man hadn't reacted at all.
Even if he was completely drunk, he should've run at the sight of police uniforms and guns.
And this posture, which looked like a zombie's... it seemed he was indeed high out of his mind.
Celt stopped in front of the homeless man, tilted his head, and looked him up and down with his golden, vertical pupils.
His standing posture was incredibly twisted, top-heavy, propping himself up in a bizarre way, barely managing not to fall over.
His clothes were very ragged, but since he was lost in his own world, he probably didn't feel much pain.
This gave Celt a slight bit of inspiration.
Before crossing over, neither Celt nor Samuel had ever been abroad and knew little about foreign matters. This was the first time he had seen such a thing.
Celt cupped his chin with one hand, lost in thought.
"Baby, do you think... in this situation, does this count as a kind of 'redemption' for them?" Celt asked Sereia beside him without turning his head.
Sereia didn't answer, just bobbed up and down slightly.
Celt chuckled softly.
"Yeah, asking you a question like that is a bit beyond your level."
Then, he went ahead and answered his own question.
"Hmm... it probably doesn't count. After all, the time is too short. Using this stuff not only costs a lot of money but only brings a brief, false sense of peace. Come the next day, they still have to wake up and continue facing an even worse life."
"When that happens, their health gets worse, their money runs out... their lives will only get worse from here on out."
At this point, Celt's voice paused slightly.
"So then... what if they could live a complete life within this 'false peace'?"
"What if there was a dream where the passage of time wasn't equal to reality? One second in reality could be a hundred years in the dream. People who were suffering could live a complete and happy life in the dream."
"Would that... be a kind of redemption?"
He looked at the disoriented homeless man in front of him and asked softly.
"Which do you prefer... your current life, or the hope of living a happy life in a dream?"
No one answered, but Celt didn't need an answer either.
Thinking this, he slowly narrowed his eyes.
His consciousness suddenly elevated, as if soaring high into the sky to overlook the world.
Then, using this as a base station, Celt's consciousness connected to another consciousness.
This was the first time Celt had actively contacted Samuel.
There were some things he couldn't do; he needed to ask Samuel for help.
"Oh? Still awake?" Samuel's annoyingly cheeky voice rang out in Celt's mind.
"Yeah, not yet," Celt said, pulling out his pocket watch to check the time. It was almost two o'clock. "You haven't rested yet either, have you?"
"Ah, no." On the other end, Samuel glanced at the room that now had a huge hole blown in it, letting the wind whistle through, indicating that he wasn't really in the mood to sleep just yet.
"Good," Celt said, putting away his pocket watch. "Help me create a dream that lasts over a hundred years. I want to run an experiment."
There was a two-second silence before Samuel quickly guessed what Celt was thinking.
"Is it the type where the flow of time in the dream is different from reality?" Samuel didn't bother asking what Celt wanted to do.
"Yeah. The time ratio between the outside and the inside needs to be one to four billion."
"That long, huh..." Samuel thought for a moment. "Hmm, okay, I can do that. Will a hundred and twenty years be enough?"
"Hmm, that should be about right." Celt nodded lightly.
"Alright, give me a few seconds." A light laugh came from the other end of the connection.
A few seconds later, the connection was severed.
Celt reopened his eyes and flipped open the Travel Guide in his hand.
Soon, he found a new "item" on the storage page.
It was a fist-sized, blue, translucent bubble.
Inside the bubble were countless smaller bubbles, one encircling another. Some of those smaller bubbles contained each other, while others were interwoven. When he looked at those smaller bubbles, he could see faint, blurry reflections on their surfaces, reflecting various images. Some showed someone sleeping, some showed someone eating, some showed someone counting money, some showed someone embracing...
[Item Description: A Happy Dream: What is happiness? Maybe it's becoming a king, above all others. Maybe it's becoming a god, where every word and action can change the world. Or maybe... it's owning a house that's truly yours, having a wife who truly loves you, having an adorable child, and hopefully having a little dog too. That would be a truly happy life.]
[In this dream, you will live a perfect life. This dream is long, long enough for you to live a long and happy life within it. This dream is short, short enough that when you wake up, you'll find that nothing has changed.]
"Ah, so efficient," Celt sighed in admiration, taking out the bubble and holding it in his hand.
This bubble had almost no weight. It was as light as air in his hand, even lighter than a soap bubble.
But it was much sturdier than it looked. At least, shaking it in his hand didn't make it break apart.
Smiling, he stepped forward two paces.
He closed the Travel Guide in his hand and tossed it lightly to the side, letting it float on its own.
Then, Celt pushed his now-free left hand forward.
Thump.
The homeless man fell straight to the ground.
But a translucent version of him remained, floating in place.
That was his soul. Hollow and dead, with not a trace of longing for life visible in his soul's eyes.
The substances he had ingested only affected the body, not the soul. When the soul left the body, he quickly woke up.
But even after waking up, he only regained a sliver of awareness. There was still no light in his eyes; he looked completely listless.
"I see." Celt nodded lightly and glanced down at his right hand.
Then, he took half a step forward and pressed the bubble in his right hand against the homeless man's soul.
The bubble sank into it, easily merging into the homeless man's soul.
The homeless man tried to struggle, but the weak soul of an ordinary person was far too feeble for Celt. His struggles had absolutely no effect whatsoever.
The bubble merged into him, and the focus immediately left the homeless man's soul's eyes. His entire soul froze in place, his limbs hanging limply, floating in mid-air purely on instinct.
Celt completely ignored the homeless man's struggles.
I believe you are suffering, so I want to redeem you. Whether you are willing or not, I don't care.
Celt could clearly see countless images rapidly flashing through the homeless man's soul.
The soul was the thing that best reflected a person's emotions.
From the homeless man's soul, Celt could sense a sequence of emotions: confusion, pleasure, excitement, stimulation... which then gradually settled into dullness and world-weariness.
One second.
Just one second.
These emotions completed their entire cycle in less than a single second.
The homeless man's soul had lived a perfect life spanning over a hundred years in less than a second.
The price was simply that his soul had almost completely collapsed.
It was incredibly difficult for an ordinary human soul to bear the weight of an entire life in an instant.
Especially for a soul as weak as this one.
His soul had been shattered by the experiences in his own dream.
In the dream, he was an absolute winner. Everything went as he wished, everything was smooth. Returning to reality, he was just a homeless man who smoked marijuana.
But that was fine. After all, his original soul was already broken enough.
At least he had lived a completely happy life.
Suddenly, Celt felt a warm current rise in his heart.
He placed his hand over his chest, feeling the heart beneath his skin—a heart that was originally fake, but was now becoming more and more real.
For a fleeting moment, it seemed as if a pair of wings unfurled behind Celt, but then again, maybe there was nothing there at all.
Sereia watched Celt, feeling as if he had grown a bit stronger.
"How wonderful..."
Celt looked at the homeless man and revealed a deeply satisfied smile.
This was... the Angel of Redemption.
This was... redemption.
How wonderful...
Then, Celt withdrew his gaze and no longer looked at him.
"Baby, can you still eat?" Celt turned to look at Sereia, asking softly and gently.
Sereia swayed lightly, indicating it was fine.
As the soul dissolved painlessly in the lethal poison of the Nether-Floating Jellyfish, the homeless man's body gradually lost its warmth and died completely.
Celt looked at the corpse lying on the ground, a slow smile spreading across his lips.
"Good night."