Penacony — Clockie Studios Theme Park.
As one of the franchise parks that drew tourists by the millions, Clockie's usually loud, bright atmosphere should've been business as usual.
Today, it was different.
A colossal, blood-red slash-mark split the sky open, stretching over the entire park like a wound that refused to close. The aura pouring out of it was so terrifying that no one dared approach.
The Family's explanation was as neat and soulless as a "gas leak" notice in some city:
Equipment malfunction.
The truth, however, stood calmly at the center of the "accident."
Acheron—an Emanator of Nihility—was waiting at the scene of the crime.
Not long ago, she'd fought a thoroughly satisfying battle here against the IPC's Aventurine.
The outcome was obvious.
Two strikes.
That was all it took for her to send Aventurine—along with the Astral Express's Nameless—into the real Penacony.
And now, she was waiting for the Family to show up.
Acheron: …
Fine.
She'd been waiting for a long time.
But the Family still hadn't appeared.
That made her frown inwardly.
Had her deduction been wrong?
Or was the Family's so-called Harmony truly willing to tolerate a Nihility intruder like her?
Time passed—how much, she couldn't say—and then, at last, they came.
Countless figures arrived.
Different bodies, different faces, different voices.
To Acheron, they were all the same person wearing different skins.
She opened her mouth, about to say something.
But the wait had been so long that she'd forgotten the lines she'd prepared.
"The uninvited guest of Nihility," the Dreammaster said first, voice cold and official. "Your presence has become a grave threat to this dreamscape. Leave Penacony."
"…I don't intend to do anything," Acheron replied flatly.
It was a pale explanation, and it didn't satisfy them.
"That choice is not yours," the Dreammaster said.
Then, as if he were reciting a doctrine, he continued:
"Whether in reality or in dream, gazing at the sky is an instinct carved into mankind. Since the 'Golden Hour' was built, it has hung above the revelers' nights, keeping watch over the riot of sound and color."
"But now the sky has been ruthlessly cut apart."
"And it took only a single blade."
Acheron, as if she hadn't heard the condemnation embedded in his words, calmly corrected him.
"One blade is inaccurate," she said. "It was two. The second was simply faster."
The Dreammaster paused.
"…That is not the point."
"This grand festival has invited too many who should not have been invited," he said, his tone sharpening. "Harmony may embrace all things, but for Penacony's peace, there are some who must be expelled."
"A Nihility Emanator. Penacony has no room for you. Those who live in shadow should not step onto the stage of light."
Acheron's expression didn't change.
She merely answered, just as plainly:
"If we are speaking of living in shadow, then we are alike."
"At the very least, when you speak to someone, you should show your true face, Dreammaster of Penacony."
The Dreammaster's hostility spiked.
"…Then you cannot be allowed to remain."
That line, more than anything else, confirmed Acheron's earlier suspicion.
So her guess hadn't been wrong after all.
"Sounds like you're going to throw me out of Penacony," she said.
"I'm pleased you possess self-awareness," the Dreammaster replied. "But it will not be an 'invitation.'"
"You believe you can do it?" Acheron asked.
Objectively speaking, she rarely fought—but at her current level, soloing all of Penacony was not an impossible task.
Even if the Family had hidden measures, forcing her out head-on would cost them dearly.
At worst, they'd pay a catastrophic price… and still only watch her walk away.
"Is that a threat?" the Dreammaster's voice turned colder.
Dozens—hundreds—of his bodies stepped forward in unison, and pressure flooded the park like a tide.
"I'm stating a fact," Acheron said calmly. "Like the裂痕 in the sky. It exists. Whether you feel threatened is irrelevant."
"You are not the first to show such malice after learning who I am."
"And you will not be the last."
She placed her hand on her sword again.
The atmosphere in Clockie Studios instantly congealed—like a blade being slowly drawn from its sheath.
"You would make an enemy of all Penacony?" the Dreammaster said. "Leave now. It benefits both of us."
"Otherwise, it will end in mutual destruction."
Acheron shook her head.
She lifted her blade and pointed—strangely—not at the Dreammaster, but at a small purple bird perched on a lamppost.
"That won't happen," she said softly.
"There will only be one ending."
Then her gaze returned, empty and absolute.
"You will die."
"I mean… all of you will die."
The Dreammaster went silent.
He couldn't deny it.
Emanators were not a class of power mortals could touch.
Not long ago, the IPC's Dongfang Qihang had come and plucked away the Propagation "fruit" he'd prepared with such care.
And now Penacony had gained a Nihility Emanator as well.
Did Emanators have a hobby of gathering wherever trouble brewed?
But—fortunately—he now had his own "Emanator-tier" external support.
"You are correct," the Dreammaster finally said.
"Penacony and the Family alone cannot 'invite' a Nihility Emanator out."
"But Penacony… is not limited to a single Emanator."
He raised his voice.
"Lord Yiqing—for the sake of our great undertaking, I ask you to personally drive this enemy out."
Acheron's fingers tightened around her hilt.
"Yiqing?"
That name stirred something old in her memory—eight hundred years ago, a presence she still couldn't forget.
"He is here?"
"That is irrelevant," the Dreammaster said with conviction. "What matters is that he stands with us."
A golden streak appeared beneath the blood-red scar across the sky.
From the light stepped a man, calm-eyed, gaze settling on Acheron as if he were looking at a familiar horizon.
"Long time no see, Miss Acheron," he said, voice even.
"Eight hundred years. I didn't think I'd meet you here."
The Dreammaster froze.
They knew each other?
The Dreammaster forced his tone forward, trying to seize control of the situation.
"Lord Yiqing—this Nihility Emanator refuses to leave Penacony. Her presence has already gravely threatened dream stability. I ask that you—"
"I know," Yiqing said, cutting him off with a raised hand.
Then he added, without hesitation:
"But Miss Acheron is my friend."
The pressure in the air stalled, as if the world itself briefly forgot which direction to fall.
"Friend?" the Dreammaster said, disbelief cracking through. "Lord Yiqing, you mean… this Nihility Emanator is your friend?"
"Correct." Yiqing's answer was firm.
He turned slightly, eyes sweeping over the Dreammaster's many bodies.
"Eight hundred years ago, we traveled together for a time."
"That bond… I remember it."
The Dreammaster fell quiet.
He had gambled everything on this "Order-aligned ally."
He hadn't accounted for the possibility that his greatest threat and his greatest support shared an old friendship.
His plan had been shredded in a single sentence.
"…Even so, the damage she has caused is a fact," the Dreammaster tried one last time. "The scar in the sky—and the essence of Nihility—are incompatible with Penacony's foundation."
"If she insists on staying, she will threaten Penacony's order."
It was a pointed word.
A warning about Nihility's danger to Order.
Yiqing turned, expression sharpening with faint displeasure.
"Gopher Wood," he said flatly, using the Dreammaster's true name. "I said she is my friend."
The Dreammaster's bodies shimmered slightly—like a crowd collectively flinching.
He wanted to refuse.
But he didn't have the right.
More importantly, Penacony could not endure the consequences of simultaneously offending two Emanators—especially when one of them was the keystone of his plan.
After a long silence, the Dreammaster spoke again, fatigue heavy in his voice.
"…If Lord Yiqing guarantees her, the Family will trust your judgment."
"My apologies, Miss Acheron. I was presumptuous."
It was a retreat in everything but name.
"Good," Yiqing said. "Go back to your work. Leave this to me."
The Dreammaster withdrew.
Clockie Studios fell into quiet again—leaving only the sky's crimson scar and the two Emanators facing one another.
"…Thank you," Acheron said after a pause.
She didn't fear conflict, but pointless conflict was still pointless.
Especially with him.
"A small favor," Yiqing replied with a faint smile. "And I was only stating the truth."
"After I stayed behind eight hundred years ago, the Astral Express received your help as well."
"I haven't forgotten."
Acheron gave a small nod, choosing not to press that thread further.
Instead, she asked the question that mattered.
"Why are you here?"
"And why… are you standing with the Family?"
She remembered him well.
He'd always been unrestrained, unpredictable—but broadly aligned with Trailblaze.
Penacony, however, was no pure Harmony dream.
It reeked—subtly—of things that should not coexist so easily:
Order. Destruction. Propagation. And the restless pulse of a Stellaron beneath it all.
These four together didn't feel like "harmony."
They felt like a lie held together by force.
Yiqing didn't answer directly.
He pivoted.
"That's what I should ask you, Miss Acheron."
"A Nihility Emanator appearing in a place this lively isn't your style."
Acheron, predictably, fell into the question.
"I came to find someone," she said, "and to return something."
"Coincidence," Yiqing replied, stepping closer. "So did I."
"Then—have you found the answer you wanted?" he asked quietly.
"Not yet," Acheron said. "But I'm close."
Silence hung between them.
Then Acheron spoke again.
"The Dreammaster called you 'Lord Yiqing.'"
"You're cooperating with them?"
"Temporarily," Yiqing admitted. "A transaction. They need my power. I need their stage."
"For Order?" Acheron's gaze hardened.
"So you noticed." Yiqing's tone stayed casual. "Yes. They want Order's Path to reappear."
"And I… am happy to see it happen."
Acheron frowned.
"You understand the cost."
"Forcing a dead Path back into existence will shatter the balance."
"Balance?" Yiqing laughed softly.
"Miss Acheron, you should know better than anyone—the divine war is near."
"The balance has already broken."
"This is different," Acheron insisted. "The 'Order' the Family wants is a false dream."
"Maybe," Yiqing said, unmoved.
"But for me, it's an opportunity."
"An opportunity to profit from Order."
Acheron held his gaze for a moment, then looked away first.
"…Fine. I understand."
Then she added, matter-of-factly:
"The Astral Express crew—the gray-haired girl and her companions—are in the real Penacony now."
"You mean Reverie Reef," Yiqing said calmly, as if confirming a schedule.
Acheron nodded. "You know the place. They're caught in trouble tied to the Family's secrets."
"I'm here for that," Yiqing said.
He stepped forward, and a ribbon of golden radiance spread beneath his feet—like a road drawn from nothing.
"Come," he said. "Miss Acheron."
"Since our destinations align, shall we go together?"
"Besides… I should confirm how that kid Dan Heng is doing."
Acheron hesitated only a fraction before stepping into the golden path.
"…Alright."
Light flashed.
They vanished from Clockie Studios.
ขชElsewhere, Dan Heng—newly entered into the dream—was searching for any trace of his companions.
Before entering, he had checked their rooms. Nothing.
The Family claimed the Nameless were still within the dream.
So Dan Heng had no choice but to search the dream itself.
Time passed, and he still found nothing.
Just as he began to feel the problem's weight, the air beside him rippled—familiar and unmistakable.
Golden radiance gathered, and two figures appeared.
Yiqing.
And Acheron.
"Senior?" Dan Heng blurted, surprised.
He had assumed Yiqing had his own plan and was prepared to search longer before asking for help.
"You still haven't found them," Yiqing said, taking in Dan Heng's expression and understanding immediately.
"…Yes." Dan Heng nodded. "The dream is too vast. The information is too noisy. I can't locate them."
Acheron spoke, voice steady, cutting through Dan Heng's thoughts like a blade through mist.
"I know where they are."
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