The air carried the faint scent of sandalwood and the smell of old paper from the scrolls neatly arranged on dark wooden shelves.
"My friend, please, have a seat," Ling Gu said, his calm voice flowing through the room like silk. He sat behind a low, polished table, his back straight with aristocratic rigidity.
"I prefer to stand," Dream replied, his voice a deep, low rumble, an echo of stone and forgotten caves in this place adorned with wood and paper.
Ling Gu smiled, a smile that did not reach his eyes. "Very well. I apologize for not being able to receive you after you emerged from your training seclusion, but I have been busy." He leaned forward slightly, his hands clasped on the table, and the boredom in his eyes shifted to a sharp glint of seriousness.
"And this business, my friend, is the reason you are here today. We are on the brink of war."
Inside Dream, the voices clashed.
"A war with the 'Yu' clan," Ling Gu continued, unaware of the internal storm. "Our eternal rivals. The battles will begin by the end of the year. Therefore, I want to see your skill tomorrow. The annual ranking day will be held, and I want to know if you are ready to help your friend."
He leaned back again, the boredom returning to his eyes. "It is true your progress seems fast, considering your multiple talents, but I suspect, after seeing you, that you are not yet ready. 'Wěn' says you are prepared, but tomorrow will reveal all. Do not pressure yourself or get nervous, my friend. Very well, you may leave now."
"Are you dismissing me?" Dream asked, not as a challenge, but as a purely logical question.
Ling Gu raised his eyebrows with amused surprise. "Do you wish to sit with me?"
"Do friends not sit with each other for a long time?"
Ling Gu burst into a short, genuine laugh this time. "No, child. Real friends are not like that. Now get out."
Dream exited the room. Kage silently led him to his cell on the lower floors. When the stone door closed behind him, he did not feel relief. He tried to "sleep," to shut down his sensors and enter a state of hibernation. But he couldn't.
There was a noise in his head that could not be stopped. Flashes of Hong-min's memories—Alene's bright laugh, Eikumi's angry face, the smell of warm bread—collided with the cold data stream from 404's analysis. He was no longer fully a machine, nor was he yet human.
He was stuck in the middle. His inability to "shut down" drove him to get up. In the darkness of his cell, he began to train, repeating the movements of the "Path of the Digger" over and over, not for strength, but as a way to silence the voices in his head.
The next morning, the training ground was a different world. The atmosphere was charged with electricity. Hundreds of warriors stood in tight ranks, their breaths rising like columns of steam in the cold winter air.
The scuffing of armor was a low hum, and their gazes held a mixture of anticipation and silent hostility. On a high balcony, Dream saw Ling Gu standing, observing the scene like an emperor looking down on a gladiatorial arena.
"Warriors of the Gu clan!"
Wen's powerful voice exploded across the grounds, like the crack of thunder. "Today, the extent of your progress and your diligence in the past period will be determined! Today, your comrades will not be your comrades! Today, they are your enemies! Let the ranking battle begin!"
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Wen quickly explained the ranks, from the novice "Soldier" to the legendary "Supreme Commander." "As for those who have no rank yet... they will fight me!"
All eyes turned toward Dream.
"Dream! You are first!"
Dream walked to the center of the grounds, feeling the faint red glimmer of hatred glowing within him. This feeling... the feeling of defeat at Wen's hands. It was no longer just data; it had become a real and painful memory.
"I hope you have improved," Wen said with a faint smile.
The fight began. Dream lunged, but this time, he was not just an analytical machine. There was rage behind his attacks. His movements were faster, stronger, and more brutal.
He was attacking with the logic of 404 and the anger of Hong-min. The "Ash Blade" clashed with Wen's wooden sword in a shower of blows that sparked. Dream was pressing, pushing Wen back for the first time.
But Wen was an ocean of experience. He didn't resist the storm; he flowed with it. He began to use a different style, no longer just evading, but attacking with short, sharp strikes, not aimed at causing damage, but at breaking Dream's rhythm, unbalancing him, and forcing him to make mistakes.
Dream was a raging bull, and Wen was the matador, draining him with a thousand small cuts.
After long minutes of frantic combat, it happened. In a moment of blind rage, Dream launched a wide, powerful attack, leaving his side exposed for a fraction of a second.
It was all Wen needed.
He slipped under the black blade and, in a single fluid motion, struck Dream's stone wrist hard with his elbow, forcing him to drop the sword. In the same instant, he spun and placed the edge of his wooden sword against Dream's neck.
"You are dead. Again."
Silence reigned. Then, something inside Dream snapped.
"DAMN IT! DAMN IT! DAMN IT!"
They weren't just words. It was a scream. A scream of pure rage and frustration that erupted from him like a physical force.
The rocky ground beneath him cracked slightly, and the warriors closest to him felt a sudden pressure in the air, as if an invisible heatwave had passed through them.
Wen looked at the cracked ground, then at Dream. Then he laughed. It was a deep, genuine laugh. "Good. Very good. Remember this feeling well, boy. Memorize it. This is the fuel that will make you better.
He stepped away from him. "You have improved astonishingly. But you are still predictable. You are now Level Two, 'Professional Soldier'."
On the high balcony, Dream saw Ling Gu shake his head with slight disappointment, then turn and leave.
"You have disappointed me, Dream," Ling Gu's imagined words echoed in his head. "You are not ready."
He felt that ugly feeling again. The feeling of failure. The feeling that he wasn't good enough.
He retreated to his quiet corner of the grounds, ignoring the rest of the battles. He didn't care who won or lost. All he cared about was training. He began to repeat the movements, emptying and refilling his tiny 'Rei' reservoir over and over, trying to burn away the feeling of defeat with sweat and effort.
It was a desperate move, a final act of rebellion against the cycle of failure. Dream stopped his training and walked directly toward Wen.
"Where is the library?"
Wen looked at him with surprise. "You won't benefit from going there. Where is it? Wen sighed and called Kage telepathically. Right, remind me next time to teach you telepathy.
Kage appeared from the shadows. Take him to the library.
Follow me.
The library was an old, forgotten building, smelling of paper and dust. Inside, a very old man sat behind a desk piled high with books, looking as if he were part of the furniture itself.
"I am Dream. Where are the 'Rei' arts?"
The old man looked at him over his spectacles. "Arrogant. But that's fine. I am Hiroki. That section is over there, on the second floor."
Dream went up and began to devour the books. He wasn't reading; he was absorbing. His computer-like mind was memorizing every technique, every theory, every illustration.
Hong-min was guiding him:
After a week of isolation in the library, he returned to the grounds. He went to his corner, closed his eyes, and tried what he had learned.
The result was shocking.
He felt the 'Rei' flow to him with an ease and efficiency he had never known before. He no longer struggled to pull the energy; it now responded to him. He focused and began to fill his reservoir. What used to take a full hour of painful concentration now took only thirty minutes.
For the first time, Dream felt something new. Not anger, not sadness.
It was... pride.
Pride in himself.
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