Chapter 220: Dream

Back to Reality

The world around him returned with a soft hum, and the whispering shadows of the illusion faded away like smoke.

Razeal blinked slowly, his focus returning to the present the creak of the ship beneath him, the faint sound of waves crashing against the hull, and the cool breeze brushing against his skin.

He was back.

The heavy Book of Eventual Evil still rested open on his lap, its faintly scorched edges gleaming with dull crimson lines that pulsed like a heartbeat.

With a slow exhale, Razeal closed the book, his fingers tracing the rough cover once before pulling his hand back.

"There are... some interesting things in there," he muttered to himself, his voice low. Then, after a short pause, he added, "Interesting... yet disgusting."

He leaned back slightly in his chair, gazing out over the ship’s deck as his mind drifted over what he had seen inside the illusion the grotesque rituals, the whispers of dark twisted knowledge etched within those pages.

It was valuable, yes. Dangerous, definitely. But right now, he had enough on his plate already.

"Maybe," he murmured, tapping his fingers lightly on the book’s surface, "I should first think about what kind of spells I should even learn... which ones will actually be useful for me now."

His pondered thoughtfuly.

After all, his arsenal was already vast. The System had granted him countless skills offensive, defensive, mystical, and strange. What he lacked wasn’t power, but direction.

He couldn’t afford to rush. Not with something like this.

Impatience would only lead to chaos.

He needed to study carefully, to find what aligned with him what would enhance his strengths, not just add to the pile.

He was still deep in thought when a familiar, weary voice broke through the sound of the waves.

"Ohhh... Boss, you woke up..."

Razeal turned his head slightly.

Levy had just returned from training, his steps dragging as he came closer. Sweat clung to his forehead, his breathing rough and uneven. The wooden sword he had been using hung loosely in his hand as he slumped onto the chair beside Razeal with a heavy thud.

"Hmm," Razeal responded simply, his tone neutral but not cold.

He shifted slightly, placing his left hand over the dark book resting in his lap, crossing one leg over the other as he glanced at Levy. His expression was unreadable as usual calm, distant, but somehow aware.

Levy leaned forward, resting his arms and head against the round wooden table. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, the exhaustion visible in every movement.

"Damn tired," he muttered weakly, half to himself.

For a moment, neither said anything. The sound of the sea filled the silence.

Then Razeal, after a quiet pause, finally spoke his voice calm and measured.

"Good warm-up."

Levy froze for a second, his face still pressed against the table, before he turned his head slightly toward his boss. His eyes twitched. "Warm-up?" he thought silently, biting back the sigh that almost escaped his mouth.

But before he could say anything, Razeal extended an apple toward him.

He didn’t even look at Levy while doing it just handed it over absentmindedly, as if it were the most natural thing to do.

Levy blinked, caught off guard, then slowly sat up. He took the apple from Razeal’s hand, eyeing it skeptically for a second.

Another apple.

A small smirk twitched at the corner of his lips as he took a bite anyway. "The warm-up and a fucking apple again," he thought

Still, he didn’t complain. The crisp sound of the bite echoed faintly in the quiet air.

Razeal didn’t speak either.

He simply picked up another apple.. wherever it came from, even Levy didn’t know and bit into it calmly, his eyes distant, as though his mind was still elsewhere.

For a few moments, there was only the soft sound of chewing and the rhythm of the ocean.

Then, suddenly, Razeal seemed to remember something.

He glanced down at the Book of Eventual Evil still resting in his lap.

"Ohh," he said, his voice even.

Levy looked up mid-bite, eyebrows raised slightly.

Razeal turned the book toward him, revealing its faintly glowing pages covered in the strange, intricate script a language twisted and elegant, almost alive in how it curled across the paper.

"Can you read this?" Razeal asked, tilting the book so the light caught the faded letters. "Tell me what’s written here."

Levy blinked, lowering his apple. The request was... unexpected, to say the least.

He stared at the book.. its dark, half-burned edges, the faint crimson light leaking from between its pages, the aura that seemed to make the air around it subtly colder.

His first thought was that the thing looked ancient. Like something that had crawled out of history itself or maybe bullshit.

Where the hell had Boss even found something like this? 200 meters down ground?

Still, he didn’t say anything. He leaned closer, trying to make sense of the markings on the page.

But the more he looked, the less sense they made.

The letters weren’t even letters anymore just shifting shapes, curling symbols that moved the moment he tried to focus on them. His head started to ache slightly.

Finally, he frowned, leaning back and rubbing his temples.

"Nah, Boss," he said simply, shaking his head. "Can’t read a damn thing. It’s like gibberish."

Razeal studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly.

"I see."

He closed the book again, resting his hand lightly on its cover. The faint glow faded instantly, leaving only the blackened edges and the smell of old parchment.

"Seems like not everyone can read it," he murmured, half to himself.

Maybe only certain people could read it those with specific traits, alignments, or powers as he had thought. Or perhaps...

He frowned slightly. "Or maybe it’s the book itself."

He recalled the artifact’s description.

A sentient grimoire.

It was alive in its own way. Thinking, reacting. Choosing.

Razeal tapped the cover lightly with his finger. "So maybe it decides who can read it," he thought. "Maybe it’s making sure I drop my guard.. pretending no one else can read it, so I won’t treat it as a threat."

The idea wasn’t impossible. In fact, after everything he’d seen inside the book, it felt perfectly in character for it.

Still, his expression remained calm. "Doesn’t matter," he thought, his tone inside his head almost cold. "After reading what’s inside, it’s better if no one else touches it anyway."

He let his hand rest on the book a little longer before finally removing it.

Levy had gone quiet again, munching on his apple without saying anything.

And across from them, Maria sat in her chair, watching them in silence.

Her arms were crossed, her eyes half-lidded, expression unreadable. She didn’t say a single word just quietly observed, her gaze shifting between Razeal, Levy, and the strange dark book that now sat quietly on his lap.

The deck was quiet again the kind of silence that came after a long stretch of steady ocean wind. The ship groaned softly beneath them, swaying gently in rhythm with the sea.

Levy had gone back to lazily munching on his apple, half-slouched in his chair beside Razeal. Maria still sat across from them, arms crossed, her gaze distant though faintly observant, as if she were too tired to comment on whatever strange thing might come next.

And then, out of nowhere, Razeal spoke.

"Would you feel accomplished," he asked suddenly, voice calm and even, "if I killed you right now... and you died?"

Levy froze mid-bite.

His eyes widened, his throat working awkwardly as the last bit of apple nearly got stuck halfway down. He coughed once, forcing it down hard before blinking rapidly at his boss, disbelief and mild panic flashing in his face.

"Boss... did I.. did I do something wrong?" Levy asked quickly, voice slightly strained.

He sat up straighter, putting the apple down on the table as his nerves spiked. He had long since learned that Razeal’s moods didn’t always follow logic sometimes the man could sleep quietly for hours, and sometimes, well... he’d ask questions like this.

Maria, sitting across the table, raised an eyebrow at the sudden shift in energy.

"...Did this guy’s periods come again?" she thought flatly, fighting the urge to sigh. She didn’t move, but her posture subtly changed her body tensed just slightly, a silent instinct that told her to be ready in case things went sideways.

Razeal, meanwhile, looked at Levy with calm curiosity, as though he hadn’t just dropped a question that could give a man heart failure.

"No," he said evenly, shaking his head once. "I’m just asking casually. Answer me."

Levy blinked, still not entirely sure if this was a joke, a test, or some kind of hidden threat. But Razeal’s expression was neutral not malicious, not amused, just... curious.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, Levy hesitantly replied.

"Umm... well, no. I wouldn’t feel accomplished," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "Since, uh... well, I haven’t really done anything to feel accomplished about."

The honesty in his tone was plain.

Razeal nodded a few times, his expression thoughtful.

"Hmm," he murmured softly. "Fair enough."

Levy relaxed a little when he didn’t immediately get stabbed or thrown overboard.

But then, Razeal’s eyes turned slightly distant again that same quiet look he got when his mind wandered into places other people couldn’t reach.

"So then," he continued, voice steady, "what would you need to feel accomplished? What’s your dream.. the thing that would ultimately make you happy?"

The question came out genuine this time.

Razeal wasn’t testing him. He wasn’t mocking him. He was simply... asking. Curious.

Because he himself didn’t know.

He didn’t know what accomplishment meant to him, or what dream could fill the strange, empty purpose that now lingered behind his calm exterior. But he wanted to understand.

Maybe, he thought, by learning what others wanted, he could catch a glimpse of what he was missing.

Levy blinked again, surprised by the shift in tone.

"My... dream?" he repeated slowly.

The word rolled awkwardly on his tongue, like something he hadn’t said in years. He frowned, lowering his gaze to the half-eaten apple in his hand, his reflection faintly visible on its smooth surface.

He hadn’t really thought about it before not seriously. His life had been one long stretch of doing what he could to survive, to serve, to follow orders, to live another day.

But now, faced with the question, he actually tried to think about it.

A strange silence hung between them for a few minutes broken only by the sound of the waves slapping softly against the hull and the faint creak of wood beneath their feet.

Finally, Levy exhaled slowly and looked up.

"I... I’d wanna die in my mother’s lap," he said quietly, almost hesitantly.

Razeal blinked once, caught off guard by the simplicity of it.

"Huh?" he asked, eyebrows raising slightly. "That’s your dream?"

Levy nodded with a small, almost embarrassed smile. "Yeah," he said. "That’s it. No bigger desire I can think of."

He looked out toward the sea, his expression softening.

"I want to die in my mother’s lap. So much that even when angels come to take me, they get confused.. as they wouldn’t know where to take me, since I’d already be in heaven."

The words were quiet, sincere.

And the small, wistful smile that followed them was the kind Razeal didn’t see often gentle, pure, almost peaceful.

Across the table, Maria looked at Levy silently, her eyes softening for a brief second. She didn’t say anything didn’t want to ruin the rare sincerity in his or anyone tone.. but something about it made her glance away, almost uncomfortable at the fragile honesty in the air.

Then Razeal, without any hint of hesitation or awareness, ruined it completely.

"But didn’t you say your mother’s dead?" he asked suddenly, rubbing his chin as though it were a simple factual observation.

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