Robin frowned slightly, her hands unconsciously stirring the water in the pool. Above the surface, ripples spread out like the turmoil in he
Robin frowned slightly, her hands unconsciously stirring the water in the pool. Above the surface, ripples spread out like the turmoil in her heart.
Her voice was gentle, carrying a hint of etherealness.
"When I awoke, I didn't sense Miss Acheron's presence at all."
"Perhaps… she has already taken a step ahead and left the dream interspace of 'The Reverie' hotel."
Daziel's heart suddenly tightened as if it had been viciously seized by a giant, invisible hand, making even breathing feel constricted.
How could this be? How could Acheron just leave so silently?
The strongest combatant is just gone?
She was…
She was the key to personally cleaving open the "Dream of Taiyi"!
In the original story, during the final battle, it was precisely Acheron's strike—a slash that split the sky like divine punishment descending upon the world—that severed the root of Order amidst thousands of bewildering illusions, bringing everyone a cold but real dawn.
Now that Acheron was gone, who in this sunken dreamscape could once again unleash such a stunningly brilliant strike that could break through all illusions?
Rely on Phantylia?
Daziel's brow furrowed deeply. As another Emanator-level existence, Phantylia was more than just a little bit weaker than Acheron.
If they relied on her, it was truly uncertain if she could cleave the dreamscape.
And besides, even if the dream was shattered, whether they could defeat Sunday was still an unknown.
After all, in their first clash, their side had been completely wiped out.
They weren't even sure how they were defeated.
A cold vine named "despair" silently wrapped itself around Daziel's beating heart, tightening its grip more and more.
Black Swan let out a soft sigh, filled with a mist-like haze and serenity.
Her voice was languid, yet it carried an almost imperceptible gravity.
"What a pity. If that Miss Acheron were here, our chances of winning would increase by more than thirty percent out of thin air."
She shook her head slightly, her unfinished words filled with deep regret.
Daziel took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the disappointment and anxiety churning in his chest.
A look of determination rekindled in his eyes.
"We can't just sit here and wait to be slaughtered."
Daziel's voice was firm and decisive. "Let's go check the other rooms in the hotel immediately. Maybe we can find other allies to wake up!"
Daziel and Black Swan got dressed, and the three of them quickly left the room.
The hotel corridor was now as silent as a ghost town; you could hear a pin drop.
On both sides of the walls, the ornate and exquisite vintage wall lamps cast large, yellowish halos of light. In the interplay of light and shadow, their three figures were stretched out, appearing exceptionally lonely and long.
The air was still filled with that unique, sweet fragrance of Penacony.
However, this rich aroma could not conceal the illusory and bone-chilling coldness that originated from the dream itself.
They held their breath and began to carefully investigate each room, one by one.
Daziel reached out and gently pushed open a heavy wooden door carved with intricate patterns of flowers and birds.
Instantly, a soft, almost dreamlike, pale pink light poured out from the crack in the door.
Inside the room, March 7th's small figure was curled up in the center of the Dream Pool, her face tranquil and serene.
A few strands of her iconic pink short hair clung disobediently to her smooth, full forehead and cheeks. Her long, curly eyelashes trembled lightly, and a faint, sweet smile played on her lips.
March 7th's breathing was even, her chest rising and falling gently with each breath, like a small cat curled up in a warm nest, making one reluctant to make the slightest sound to disturb her.
She had somehow found another purple cushion, which she held tightly in her hand unconsciously. It was even stained with a bit of water, clearly having been used.
Daziel's gaze softened unconsciously, but a quiet sigh echoed in his heart. It was better not to let his companions from the Express get involved in this bottomless quagmire.
In terms of strength, whether it was March 7th, Himeko, or Welt, they were all currently lacking and wouldn't be of much help.
Dan Heng, however, was powerful.
If he were in his Imbibitor Lunae form, he might even become a formidable force against Sunday.
Unfortunately, he wasn't here right now…
Daziel's mind then flashed to Herta's face, always a mix of thirty percent amusement and seventy percent arrogance.
This place, after all, was just a dream chasm between reality and illusion, not the vast, boundless real universe.
Otherwise, with Lady Herta's unfathomable, god-like methods, she could directly project a part of her enormous, technologically superior space station here.
That almost infinite, terrifying computational power, along with the might to easily destroy stars, would probably be enough to turn all of Penacony upside down.
At the very least, in terms of pure combat power, they wouldn't be in such a tight spot, constrained at every turn.
"Master Daziel."
Robin's and Black Swan's voices sounded almost simultaneously in the empty corridor, their tone carrying a hint of undisguised hesitation and gravity.
They walked side-by-side from the other end of the corridor, their steps light, but their expressions no longer as calm as before.
Robin stopped beside Daziel, her eyes as clear as lake water now tinged with a shade of worry. She asked softly,
"Aventurine of the IPC's 'Ten Stonehearts' is also sleeping here."
"Should we… try to wake him up?"
Daziel's brows twitched imperceptibly, a light flashing in his deep eyes as he quickly weighed the pros and cons.
A moment later, he slowly shook his head, his tone firm and decisive. "Aventurine… His cornerstone, the very thing he relies on to maintain his 'Preservation' power, has already been taken by your brother."
"His current strength probably doesn't even count as half a true Emanator."
"Waking him up wouldn't be very meaningful."
Black Swan elegantly gathered a strand of light purple hair that had fallen beside her cheek. A faint hint of helplessness and resignation flashed in her deep eyes, which seemed capable of seeing through people's hearts.
She parted her lips, her voice carrying its characteristic charm and magnetism, "It seems that in this situation, the only ones we can rely on are ourselves."
"The other rooms we just checked were either empty, the sleepers having already been moved, or the fluctuations of the Path from the sleepers within were extremely weak, not worth considering."
A deathly silence once again settled over the three of them like a heavy lead weight.
The air seemed to freeze at that moment, so oppressive it was almost hard to breathe.
The faint spark of hope that had just been ignited seemed so small and feeble in the face of the cruel, cold reality, as if it could be extinguished at any moment.
Just as this suffocating, oppressive atmosphere was about to completely consume the last of their fighting spirit—
"Well, son of a cyber-biscuit!"
A coarse and boisterous male voice, as if filled with the taste of gunpowder and smoke, exploded without warning in the desolate, empty corridor like a clap of thunder on a clear day!
"I thought all the folks in this blasted place had slept themselves to death!"
"Didn't expect, nope, didn't expect to find a few living, breathing critters still kicking!"
The voice was raspy and grating, like a rusty metal gear grinding violently. Every word carried a savage, domineering, and untamable wildness.
Before the voice had even faded, a burly figure leaped out from the shadows at the far end of the corridor.
Half of the newcomer's body gleamed with a cold, metallic luster, clearly having undergone extensive modification. The other half was clad in a cowboy outfit full of wild western style, the two completely different styles merging bizarrely on his body.
His steps were steady and powerful. The metallic prosthesis of his leg collided with the mirror-smooth floor, producing a rhythmic "clank, clank" sound, each step seeming to land on the beat of everyone's heart.
A flicker of undisguised surprise crossed Robin's beautiful eyes. She asked softly, "Sir, may I ask who you are…?"
The half-metal cowboy grinned, revealing a wild smile mixed with pearly white teeth and metal fillings.
"Boothill! Anyone who's heard my name knows what line of work I'm in."
His gaze sharpened, carrying a hint of playful threat.
"And if you haven't heard of me… Hmph, for the sake of your own little lives, you'd best hope you never do!"
Black Swan's eyes shifted, a meaningful curve forming on her lips. She spoke leisurely, revealing the newcomer's identity.
"A legendary cyborg cowboy who roams the galaxy. His style is extremely optimistic, unrestrained, and bound by no rules."
"As a member of the 'Galaxy Rangers,' you will stop at nothing to enact the justice in your heart, punishing evil. The bounty for your capture is still posted high on the Interastral Peace Corporation's blacklist."
Hearing this, Boothill let out a deafening, wild laugh that echoed endlessly in the corridor.
"Hahahaha! Not bad, not bad! Looks like there are one or two people here who know their stuff!"
"Among the many guests of this Planet of Festivities, I had previously considered secretly seeking out a few powerful and trustworthy collaborators. Mr. Boothill, you were also on my list of candidates."
Boothill's electronic eyes, glinting with a sharp light, quickly scanned the oppressive surroundings and the three individuals with their varying expressions. He grinned, revealing more of his metal teeth.
"You've got a good eye, lady. But before we talk about anything else, can you tell this old boy what in the blazes is goin' on with these little darlings lyin' in bed?"
He pointed towards the closed doors, his tone tinged with impatience.
"Why are they all sleeping like little darlings, not waking up no matter how much you call? I just finished checkin' in, took one step into that whatchamacallit… Oh, right, the Dream Pool, and next thing I know, it's pitch-black! Son of a cyber-biscuit, that gave this old boy a real fright!"
Daziel's expression was grave. He took a deep breath and, in the most concise language possible, recounted the earth-shattering changes in Penacony, the mad ambitions of the Family's leader, Sunday, and the desperate situation they currently faced.
Boothill listened, his brow knitting into a knot. He spat fiercely on the ground and cursed, "Son of a cyber-biscuit, my luck's really hit rock bottom! Just got here and ran straight into this godforsaken mess!"
His sharp gaze then turned to the slightly uneasy Robin, sizing her up rudely.
"Hey, you, the little lady with the pretty bird wings on her head. Your brother who's in charge, did he take a few too many blaster bolts from the Federation to the brain?"
A flash of sadness and shame crossed Robin's beautiful face. She lowered her head slightly, her voice soft but clear.
"I am very sorry, Mr. Boothill. This matter… this matter is indeed my brother's wrongdoing, which has caused everyone a great deal of trouble."
But Boothill just waved his metal arm dismissively, making a "clank-clank" sound, and once again burst into his trademark laughter.
"Hahahaha! Don't be so nervous, little lady! I'm startin' to think this whole thing is gettin' more and more damn interesting!"
He looked at the trio before him with great interest, stroking the coarse metal stubble on his chin and clucking his tongue in amazement.
"Tsk, tsk, look at this lineup! The Family's pride and joy of a songstress, a mysterious and beautiful Memokeeper from the Garden of Recollection, and this Nameless little brother from the Astral Express. And now, you've added a lone-wolf Galaxy Ranger like me."
"Heh, a strange team-up like this, you don't see that often in the whole galaxy!"
Hearing this, the heavy feeling in Daziel's heart, which had formed due to Acheron's departure, eased slightly. A bitter yet hopeful smile touched his lips as he replied, half-joking and half-serious.
"Brother Boothill, if you really have a special hobby of gathering Pathstriders from all walks of life, perhaps we can try to wake up a few more for you from this hotel."
"After all, for this festival in Penacony, quite a few representatives from other major factions have come."
Boothill let out a disdainful scoff, his tone filled with contempt for those so-called "representatives."
"Son of a cyber-biscuit! What damn good are those cowardly little darlings!"
His eyes suddenly sharpened, and he cut straight to the heart of the matter.
"According to what you just said, even if you tied me and all those weaklings together, we still couldn't beat that… that Dominicus fella, right?"
As soon as he said this, the atmosphere, which had just slightly relaxed due to Boothill's arrival, froze once again.
The faces of Daziel, Black Swan, and Robin all involuntarily darkened.
Yes, the harsh reality was right in front of them. In this desperate situation, even if they gathered everyone in The Reverie who could still move, it would likely be difficult to shake the foundation of the dreamscape named "Dream of Taiyi," which Sunday had single-handedly created.
They couldn't even easily break the restraints of this seemingly fragile dream chasm.
Just as a shadow once again clouded everyone's hearts, Boothill's tone suddenly shifted. He stroked his chin, a strange light flashing in his eyes.
"Speaking of which, that woman you mentioned earlier, Acheron… I, uh, actually ran into her before she left the hotel."
Daziel's spirits lifted instantly, his eyes bursting with hope as he asked urgently, "And then? Did she say anything?!"
Boothill rubbed the cold, hard metal stubble on his chin, recalling the scene.
"I was at the front desk checkin' in, and that lady happened to be checkin' out."
"Heh, these electronic eyes of mine are sharp! I recognized her in a flash! Son of a cyber-biscuit, she dared to use the name of us Galaxy Rangers to swagger around out there!"
"I was gettin' real fired up, about to pull out my trusty sidearm and have a good long chat with her, ask her who in the blazes she was. But unexpectedly, she was pretty straightforward. Before I could even blow my top, she apologized to me."
"She said something about… just wanting to borrow the Galaxy Ranger's name to attract the attention of a real Ranger, to make it easier to return the belongings of a deceased Ranger."
Boothill clicked his tongue, a look of lingering fear on his face.
"Now that you all put it that way, it's actually pretty damn scary. Son of a cyber-biscuit, I almost lost my temper back then and put a bullet through her pretty head!"
The light in Daziel's eyes dimmed bit by bit as Boothill spoke. His voice was a little dry.
"So… she still chose to leave the hotel."
Boothill seemed to suddenly remember something important and slapped his half-metal forehead. "Uh… Trailblazer, little brother. Before she left, she specifically asked me to pass on a message to a Nameless fella on her team with grayish-white hair."
"Lookin' at you, I reckon the person she was lookin' for is you, no doubt about it."
Daziel's heart clenched, as if something had viciously tugged at it. He held his breath, asking word by word, "What… what message did she leave?"
Boothill's eyes, gleaming with a cold electronic light, narrowed slightly, as if he were trying to extract that not-so-distant yet crucial memory fragment from the vast data stream. His rough voice slowly sounded, each word carrying a metallic, grating texture.
"That Acheron lady, her message was—Do not try to cleave the dreamscape."
"She said, she can do it, but she must not."
Boothill's metal fingers unconsciously tapped the gun holster at his waist as he continued to relay the message.
"She also said, Daziel, you little rascal might be able to do it too, but it's best that you also, do not."
Daziel's sharp brows instantly furrowed. A wave of nameless fire mixed with heavy confusion surged from his chest. He almost roared, his voice hoarse with anxiety.
"What in the world is the meaning of all this beating around the bush?! What time is it for riddles?!"
The formless pressure squeezed Daziel's nerves, making him unbearably irritable.
"If we don't cleave this damned dreamscape, we can't even touch that bastard Sunday's shadow, let alone talk about stopping his insane plan!" Daziel felt his temples throb, and the surrounding air seemed to become thick and heavy due to this unresolved issue.
Boothill's metal pauldrons made a faint "creak" as he shrugged. He grinned, showing a mouthful of white teeth, with a look of someone who couldn't care less.
"Son of a cyber-biscuit, how should I know all the twists and turns. Since Acheron said it, she must have her reasons. You figure it out yourself, kid."
Boothill turned his semi-mechanical head, his electronic eyes scanning the somewhat empty hall after the chaos, as if the life-or-death conversation just now was nothing more than pre-dinner small talk.
His tone shifted, his voice suddenly rising as he barked at the worried-looking Robin.
"By the way, Robin, little lady, where's the good liquor hidden in this broken-down hotel of yours? I'm parched right now and in dire need of a few jars of strong malt juice to wet my whistle!"
Robin's beautiful face was filled with helplessness and a faint worry. She sighed softly, her voice as gentle as a feather brushing against one's heart, her eyes revealing a deep exhaustion.
"Mr. Boothill… right now, the situation is so critical, and you… how can you still be in such high spirits?"
She truly couldn't understand this Galaxy Ranger's erratic thinking, nor could she imagine what was going on inside his half-mechanized head.
Despite her anxiety, Robin still replied softly, her voice carrying a barely perceptible tremble.
Upon hearing this, Boothill looked as if he had found some great treasure. A wide, undisguised smile spread across his rough face. His metallic prosthesis stomped a heavy, powerful rhythm on the floor as he strode towards the stairs, booming with laughter as he went.
"Haha, that's more like it! Son of a cyber-biscuit, since the sky is about to fall, I have to chug a few glasses—no, a few barrels of strong malt juice before it does!"
He waved his metal arm, his retreating figure exuding a roguish and carefree air.
"This rotten life of mine already died once among the stars, so what's the harm in dying again! No, no,"
Boothill seemed to have thought of something wonderful, and his tone suddenly became cheerful, with a drunken madness. "This isn't going to die, this is going to enjoy life, dammit! My darlings, wait for me!"
That coarse, boisterous, and even somewhat crazed laughter, like a stone thrown into a lake, briefly broke the heavy silence, only to be quickly swallowed by the boundless quiet. It faded away at the end of the empty corridor, leaving behind only an increasingly thick, deathly stillness and a faint, lingering scent of malt liquor in the air.
An almost suffocating sense of oppression, like an invisible tide, once again enveloped Daziel and Black Swan, weighing heavily on each of them. Even breathing seemed to carry the taste of rust, and the surrounding light appeared to have dimmed.
Just as the stagnant air was about to solidify, a brilliant gleam of light suddenly, without any warning, flashed through Black Swan's eyes, as deep as the starry sky.
"Master Daziel."
Black Swan's red lips parted slightly, her voice as smooth as the finest silk, carrying a hint of serenity and a certain conviction.
She looked at the frowning, sorrowful-faced Daziel, every word crystal clear, resounding exceptionally in the room.
"About the message Miss Acheron left… I think, perhaps I've… caught a clue and understood her true meaning…"
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