“Sir Selim, please, I’m begging you, help me, save my wife Sharn.” Bart understood the implication in Selim’s words and fell to his knees, pleading with her.
“Bart.” Selim’s lips curled into a smile as her gaze fell, carrying a compassion almost like that of a god overlooking all beings. “Did you forget? I came here for you, for Sharn.”
Pa!
As Selim snapped her fingers—a sound as heavy as a funeral bell—the massive, living Blood-Flesh Demon Lair began to boil violently.
Sophia was the most alert. The moment she sensed the environment change, she drew her sword and stood guard at Selim’s side.
The Skinless Monsters, which had been standing between Selim’s group, let out ear-piercing howls and began to move, starting to slaughter one another.
In front of this writhing mountain of flesh, Selim and her companions were as tiny as dust.
Yet at this moment, the entire lair was plunging into irreversible and rapid decay, all because of these few motes of dust.
Huge patches of flesh and chunks of rock peeled off from the dome above, crashing down like rain.
Selim, however, seemed oblivious to the collapse above her head.
She raised her chin, arms outstretched toward the Flesh Fruit, and took a deep breath of the pure Soul Energy that was rapidly gathering.
This Soul Energy caused her Experience Bar to rise at a speed visible to the naked eye.
“Can you hear it? It’s dying.”
The sense of reaping without effort left her feeling extremely exhilarated.
Sophia’s magic surged, and she quickly formed a crystalline Ice Shield over Selim’s head, blocking the falling debris.
Selim pressed forward again, approaching the throbbing Flesh Fruit, which looked like a giant womb.
“Is this… really safe?” Sophia couldn’t help but sweat with worry for Selim, ready to rush in and rescue her at any moment.
“Don’t worry, trust me.” Selim turned to comfort Sophia, then faced forward again.
Her voice was unbelievably gentle as her Soul Power seeped out, as if comforting a frightened child: “Don’t be afraid… I’m here.”
Several crimson tendrils did not stab at her as before. Instead, they gently wrapped around Selim, lifting her up and pulling her toward the pulsing core.
“There, there, don’t be afraid, Mother’s here.” Selim’s feigned maternal warmth soothed the entity as she let the tendrils draw her deeper into the fleshy membrane. “Good child, just like that…”
When most of Selim’s body had merged into the sticky, sac-like liquid, the crimson tendrils reluctantly slid off her and withdrew.
Immediately, she sensed a vast, naive soul entity trying to wrap around her gently and assimilate her.
Selim reined in her overflowing goodwill, careful not to be devoured by this greedy creature.
Whether the entity could understand or not, she whispered to the pulsing Flesh Fruit in the sweetest, gentlest tone: “Don’t be afraid… it won’t be long. Mother will find a way to kill you and set you free.”
Immersed in the translucent, cool liquid, Selim didn’t feel suffocated, but her consciousness sank like a stone into the deep sea, falling deeper and blurring. Before she completely drifted into slumber, she slowly floated to Sharn’s side.
Up close, Sharn was indeed a graceful, mature beauty, her face peaceful, lips even bearing a satisfied smile.
But compared to Sophia’s heroic vigor or Cecilia’s lively cuteness in Selim’s memories, her beauty still fell a little short.
Sharn was not bound in any way—she merely slept, immersed in a sweet dream.
“What kind of dream could it be, to make you so willing to sink into this?”
Sharn was the very core of the Flesh Fruit, and the strongest sense of calling came from Sharn’s slightly rounded belly.
Selim focused her last bit of attention, adjusted her soul frequency, and in this uniquely advantageous environment, she gradually sank into Sharn’s dream.
At the very moment Selim’s consciousness completely slipped into the dreamland, the sleeping Sharn seemed to sense something and unconsciously reached out to gently hug the ‘daughter’ in her arms.
“Huff, cough, cough!”
Selim suddenly opened her eyes and sat up, the drowning sensation fading rapidly.
She looked around, scanning her surroundings. Aside from a tall apple tree, a quiet street, and a few simple houses, there was nothing else. It was just an utterly ordinary small town.
“Selim, I finally found you! Sleeping here again?”
A woman’s voice, gentle with a hint of reproach, rang out.
Selim looked up and saw a tall, beautiful woman striding over and, without waiting for protest, took her hand.
“How many times has Mother told you, don’t wander off alone! The family worries so much, you know.”
At first glance, Selim immediately recognized the woman as Sharn, though she was even taller than Selim had imagined.
“Huh?” Selim was momentarily bewildered.
Seeing her confusion, Sharn sighed helplessly.
“You naughty thing, still wanting Mother to hold you at your age?” Before Selim could react, Sharn bent down and scooped her up, letting Selim’s little head rest on her soft, warm shoulder.
Only then did Selim realize she had become a little girl of about eight years old.
“Playing house, are we? Is this what you desire?”
She had to admit, that Bart fellow was lucky—Sharn’s figure was excellent. Being held in her arms, Selim could clearly feel that warmth and softness.
Out of respect, Selim decided not to move from Sharn’s embrace for now and gather some intelligence first.
So she just enjoyed the moment while observing everything around her.
This was a very small town, with all the passersby being High Goth.
Selim touched her own ear, discovering that she did not have the long ears unique to the High Goth. However, neither Sharn, who was holding her, nor the neighbors greeting them along the street, seemed to notice, as if she was naturally meant to be Sharn’s daughter.
But in the process, Selim noticed something odd.
Everyone here wore a stiff, mechanical smile as if they were fake people—like wearing the same unchanging mask, which made Selim’s skin crawl.
Unconsciously, Selim had already arrived home with Sharn.
“Dear husband, I’m back!” Sharn called into the house in a girlishly cheerful tone.
“Welcome home, wash up and get ready for dinner.” A deep, magnetic voice came from the kitchen.
Hearing the voice, Selim frowned slightly—was Bart’s voice always this magnetic and charming?
Selim doubted if this was really Bart. If not, as a devotee of true love, she could only offer a few moments of silent sympathy for Bart.
To keep life going, after all, everyone needs…
Luckily, the man in the kitchen, wearing an apron and chopping vegetables with his back to them, had a figure very much like Bart’s.
Without turning his head, he said, “Little Selim being naughty again? If you keep this up, Father will get angry!”
“Don’t you scare my precious daughter! Apologize, now!” Sharn chided.
The man set down his knife, turned around, his face wearing a mix of helplessness and affection as he spoke to Selim, “Sorry, it was Father’s fault.”
Selim didn’t accept his apology right away. Instead, when she saw his face, she couldn’t help but shrink back a little, feeling a sense of the uncanny valley.
“Are you Bart?” Selim blurted out.
“Who else? I’m your father, Bart.” The man replied as if it was obvious. “Unless you have another father?”
Looking at the man claiming to be Bart, Selim almost lost it.
Sharp features, deep, weathered eyes full of stories—a walking, dashing uncle.
Selim just couldn’t connect this handsome face with the sour, dead-fish face Bart always wore, as if someone owed him money.
Guess it’s true—love is blind.
“What’s wrong, Selim? Not going to say something to Father?” Sharn spoke as she put Selim into a high chair at the dining table, seating her across from three children of similar age.
“Sorry, Mother Sharn…” Selim could accept calling Sharn “Mother,” but calling Bart “Father”? Absolutely not.
“I’m just… not really feeling it today.”
“Oh, is that so!” Sharn exclaimed, as if suddenly understanding. “Then let Mother cook something tasty for you! Father will play with you, and I guarantee my little Selim will cheer up!”
She hummed a light tune, tied on an apron with Bart’s help, and turned into the kitchen, gently closing the door.
The moment the door closed, the three children at the table, who had been playing noisily, froze like a paused scene, stuck in the middle of sharing dishes.
And the “Bart” who was supposed to keep Selim company also froze instantly, his perfect smile fixed in place, as he started pacing repeatedly between the hallway and the dining table in a set, mechanical loop.
Seeing this, Selim jumped down from her chair and waved a hand in front of ‘Bart,’ but he showed no reaction, just kept that smile on his face.
Even if she deliberately blocked his way, all she got was a slight adjustment in his path, and then he’d go back to repeating his meaningless circuit.
No longer bothering with futile attempts, Selim lay by the window, gazing into the distance. What should have been endless golden fields had become rough pixel blocks.
And further away, it turned into utter darkness, from which Selim sensed what felt like the will of this world.
“Hungry… afraid… longing…”
She closed her eyes and peeled a sliver of pure soul from herself, gently feeding it into the darkness like feeding a baby bird.
“Satisfaction… help…”
“Just as I thought…” Selim’s lips curled in an all-knowing smile.
This was a world shaped by Sharn’s subjective consciousness.
At this moment, she felt the entire world open up to her, as if it were clay in her hands, hers to shape at will—a nearly godlike omnipotence filled her being.
The master of this dream had accepted her as kin.
“If I can do anything here…”
Selim formed, right in front of her, an image of Sophia in her heroic, natural state.
“Get lost, annoying close-attendant…” Her cheeks reddened slightly, tinged with mischief, as she wanted to savor the pure, original Sophia.
Unfortunately, her interest vanished the next second.
Lacking the original video data, the virtual material failed to render—other than Sophia’s pretty face, the rest was a big mosaic blur.
“Tch, no fun.” Selim clicked her tongue, redirecting her prankish urge to the looping Bart.
She casually conjured a thick wall in front of ‘Bart.’
Thunk! ‘Bart’ walked straight into it.
“What’s wrong?” The kitchen door flew open, and Sharn poked her head out, looking puzzled.
In that instant, the wall vanished as if it had never been there.
The children at the table resumed their play, and ‘Bart’ stopped his mechanical pacing.
“Dear?” Bart rubbed his forehead in confusion. “What happened?”
“I heard a loud bang, like something ran into something.” Sharn frowned, muttering.
“Selim, did you hear anything?” She looked to Selim at the window.
“Nope, Mother~” The culprit Selim turned around, giving her an angelic, pure and innocent smile.
“Strange…” Sharn murmured, closing the kitchen door once again.
At the same time, Selim felt a twinge of pain from this world, as if Sharn’s moment of confusion had caused it harm.
“Heh…” Selim’s eyes brightened as if discovering a new toy. “So that’s it—waking Sharn, making her realize this is a dream, is the key to breaking free?”
“In that case…” Selim climbed back onto the table, ruby-like eyes sparkling with danger and excitement.
“How about a ghost story?”
“This time, Selim gets to be the ghost.”
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