Inside the tent, still shrouded in dimness, the air was much warmer than outside. The first light of dawn seeped through the canvas as a pale gray, just enough to reveal the two figures sleeping in an embrace on the sleeping bag. The air was thick with the warmth of their close bodies and the faint, musky scent of their lovemaking, mingled with the smell of earth and damp leaves… irrefutable proof of the "sin under the moonlight" that had just occurred.
Owen opened his eyes in the darkness. The first thing he perceived wasn't the ceiling of the tent, but the weight and warm skin of Clara, who was lying facedown on his chest. As his mind slowly processed, trying to recall the events of the previous night, he remembered the fierce and prolonged sex that had left him feeling overwhelmingly satisfied.
His arms were still loosely wrapped around Clara's slender waist, feeling the soft resilience of her full breasts pressed intimately against his abs. Every time she moved, that softness would brush against the faint nail marks she had left on him last night, awakening a stinging sensation that came with a strange satisfaction… a confirmation that all the passion that had transpired was real.
Feeling the embrace tighten, Clara began to stir slightly. Her eyelids slowly fluttered open before she looked up to meet Owen's eyes in the dim light. Her position brought their faces so close their noses almost touched. The hesitation and guilt were gone from her eyes, replaced only by an overflowing love she could no longer hide.
She reached out to gently caress Owen's cheek before whispering, her voice still trembling.
"I love you, Owen… I really do… You're my everything now."
Owen smiled, then leaned down to kiss her forehead gently. "I love you too, Clara…" he replied, his voice deep and firm. "From now on… I'll be the one to protect this family."
Those words weren't just a comfort, but a vow… It was his complete acceptance of the position of the "new pillar of the house."
As the light grew a little brighter, making the surroundings clearer, Clara knew she had to go. She propped herself up on her arms, lifting herself from his chest with reluctance, her eyes full of regret.
"I have to go… before Damian wakes up," she whispered faintly.
Owen nodded. He placed a hand on the back of her neck and pulled her in for one last kiss… It was a deep, lingering kiss, not as fiery as the night before, but filled with love, concern, and an unseen promise that now bound the two of them together completely.
Clara slowly rolled off Owen's body, silent as a shadow. The pale gray light of dawn shining through the canvas painted a dark silhouette of her beautiful figure as she quickly grabbed her clothes and dressed. Every movement was hurried, yet still held a strange elegance.
Once dressed, she turned to look at Owen one last time, giving him a smile that was both sweet and sad… a smile that said everything the bliss, the love, and the uncomfortable truth that their private time was over… before she slowly zipped up the tent and crept safely back to her own.
The soft sound of the zipper closing was like a signal, severing their sweet, private world from the other.
Owen let out a soft sigh, a smile still lingering on his face. He subconsciously raised a hand to his lips, letting the taste of her kiss and her sweet body scent, which still clung to him, serve as a reminder of the bliss that had passed. He lay there for a while, letting the images replay in his head… until the soft rumble of his stomach pulled him back to reality.
'I'm starving…' he thought, laughing to himself.
It was time to start a new day… with a new responsibility he was more than willing to bear.
He decided to sit up and unzipped the tent all the way… and in that instant, the smile on his face was replaced by sheer surprise.
The sight before him was a veil of mist, stark white and unnaturally thick. It was so dense he couldn't see the forest beyond. His visibility was limited to no more than ten meters. The sounds of birds and the stream he had heard before were now muffled, as if from a great distance. The atmosphere was both beautiful, like a dream world, and unsettling at the same time.
'What the hell is this mist? It was just a light drizzle last night. It shouldn't be this thick,' Owen frowned. His instincts were screaming that this was not a natural phenomenon. He tried to peer deeper into the thick veil, but he could see nothing but an empty and suffocating white.
Before long, the zipper of the large tent was pulled open. Damian stumbled out first, massaging his temples and grumbling.
"Ouch… my head is killing me. That champagne last night packed a punch." He finished speaking and stretched his arms out wide, then froze when he saw the conditions. "Whoa… a thick fog. Anyway, who wants some hot coffee?" His demeanor seemed particularly cheerful, blissfully unaware that his best friend and his wife had just fucked each other raw.
Clara followed him out, looking noticeably brighter than usual. When her eyes met Owen's, a faint blush rose on her cheeks. They shared a brief glance, a greeting only the two of them understood. Julian was the last to emerge, dazed, from his tent.
Everyone was surprised by the unusually thick mist, but no one thought much of it. Damian simply concluded it was because of the light rain the night before, making the air especially humid. Owen then volunteered to go find firewood to start a fire for coffee.
As Owen walked deeper into the forest to find wood, he could feel that the atmosphere was strange. The silence was unusually heavy. The sound of his own footsteps on the damp leaves seemed to echo unnervingly. He shook his head to clear the paranoid thoughts but couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him from within the thick white mist.
When Owen returned to the camp with an armful of firewood, the first thing he noticed was the silence… no one was talking or doing anything. He looked around, and the sight that met his eyes made his blood run cold…
Damian was squatting behind a log, trembling, his eyes wide with absolute terror. He was muttering to himself nonstop, "Get away… demons… monsters… Don't come near me!"
Julian was sitting in the same folding chair, but he was giggling softly and chatting animatedly with "thin air," as if conversing with an old friend he hadn't seen in ages. His happiness seemed twisted and eerie amidst the oppressive atmosphere.
And Clara… she stood motionless by the extinguished campfire, one hand extended as if to touch a warmth that wasn't there. Her face was vacant, adorned with a blissful, rapturous smile, as if she were reliving the sweet memories of last night over and over again.
"What the hell is going on!?" Owen swore internally. He quickly dropped the firewood and rushed to Damian. "Damian! It's me! Wake up!" He shook his friend, but Damian only screamed in fear and violently slapped his hand away. Owen realized it instantly… This wasn't an ordinary mist. It was some kind of psychic power or magic that had trapped everyone in their own illusions.
Owen clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. Helplessness and rage boiled in his chest. He made up his mind… no matter who or what was behind this strange mist, he would use all the mana he had to snap everyone back to their senses!
But just as he began to circulate the energy in his body… he froze.
The veil of mist that had been still before him began to move unnaturally. It wasn't drifting with the wind but was swirling together as if the center of a small storm had formed right there… The clusters of mist began to condense, slowly forming a human shape… from a blurry silhouette… to the complete form of an old man who appeared before him, like a painting being colored to completion in the blink of an eye.
There were no footsteps… no approach… the old man simply… appeared there, amidst the terrifying silence.
The old man was in a Tibetan monk's robe of a deep crimson color, which looked ancient but immaculate. His bald head and a face full of the wrinkles of time gave him a venerable look. In his hand, he held a large set of dark wooden prayer beads. His eyes were calm and as deep as an endless ocean.
The old monk looked at Owen with a tranquil gaze before speaking, his voice deep and resonant. "Your companions' minds are lost in a veil of slumber." He paused briefly. "They are safe… I was merely ensuring they would not interfere with our business… As for you… follow me…"
As he finished speaking, the old monk turned his back to Owen, and at that same moment, the thick veil of mist before him parted as if an unseen hand had drawn a curtain, revealing an ancient stone path covered in moss, which stretched deep into the woods… a forest that now looked strange and full of a magic it had never possessed before.
Owen glanced back at his friends and his lover, still trapped in their trances, before turning back to the mysterious path before him. He clenched his fists… He knew he had no choice but to follow.
…..
Owen followed the old monk down the ancient stone path with the utmost caution. Every step was firm and steady. He intentionally kept a certain distance, not too close to seem threatening, and not too far to lose sight. One of his hands was clenched tightly in his pocket, ready to use [Avatar of Asura] the instant the old man showed any sign of deceit.
The deeper they went, the stranger the scenery became, making Owen feel a mixture of awe and suspicion. The trees here looked much older than in the rest of the forest. Some were so gigantic it would take ten men to encircle them. Some were twisted into bizarre shapes like creatures from a fairy tale. And some were covered in a dark green moss that glowed with a faint blue light in the spots where the sun couldn't reach.
The air around him was cool and so pure he could feel the mana was many times denser than outside. It was so thick he could "feel" it on his skin, as if he were walking through an invisible curtain of energy.
'What the hell is this…' Owen thought to himself. 'This isn't the Blackwood Forest I know anymore.'
The old monk led him to the face of a large cliff with a waterfall cascading down as a backdrop. The roar of the water echoed throughout the area. It seemed to be a dead end.
But instead of stopping, the monk walked straight into the curtain of water without the slightest hesitation. Owen hesitated for a moment, weighing the risk of following him into what could be a trap against the risk of leaving his defenseless friends behind… In the end, he gritted his teeth and decided to follow.
The moment he stepped through the frigid curtain of water, Owen's entire world fell silent. The thundering sound of the waterfall vanished instantly… The sight that appeared before his eyes was an ancient "monastery" hidden inside a giant cavern. It was an architecture of simple stone and wood, giving off a strange feeling of stability and peace.
The interior was dimly lit by countless butter lamps placed in niches in the stone walls, casting a warm, soft light. The scent of incense and ancient herbs he didn't recognize hung in the chilly air. Everything looked ancient… so ancient it seemed to exist outside of time.
The monk led him to a polished stone courtyard in the center of the monastery before turning to face him.
"Welcome to the 'Monastery of Eternal Slumber'," the old monk said, his voice calm yet echoing throughout the cavern hall. "My name is Tenzin. I am the 37th 'Caretaker' of this monastery."
Tenzin observed Owen's wary posture with a placid gaze before continuing. "This monastery was built about a thousand years ago… in an era when your world did not have what you call 'dimensional gates' or 'Awakened,' but was filled with what our ancestors called 'spirits and demons.'"
Owen frowned slightly. The ancient tale was interesting… but it wasn't what he wanted to know right now.
"I don't want to know about the history of this place…" Owen cut in, his voice hard, his eyes fixed on Tenzin, unyielding. "What I want to know is… what do you want from me?"
Owen's harsh gaze didn't faze Tenzin in the slightest. The old monk remained as calm as a cliff face that had been weathered by wind and rain for a thousand years. He looked deep into Owen's eyes… a gaze that seemed to pierce right through to his soul.
"Patience… young one…" Tenzin said evenly. "All your questions will be answered… but you must first understand the origin of it all."
Tenzin continued, "In truth… the beings our ancestors called 'spirits and demons'… are inhabitants from the 'Dream Dimension' who have escaped into the world of reality."
'The Dream Dimension?' Owen raised an eyebrow slightly. The words sounded like they were from a B-grade fantasy novel rather than reality.
The caretaker led Owen to a small pool of water, so still it was like a black mirror. "This monastery has two important duties. One is to 'seal' the 'Essence of Dreams'… It is like a dimensional gate that connects the Dream Dimension to our world of reality," he said, pointing to the pool. "And two… is to serve as a training ground for the 'Guardians,' whose duty is to enter and exit the Dream Dimension through this seal, to prevent monsters from nightmares from escaping."
After waiting for Owen to process the information, Tenzin began to speak again. "And the duty of a 'Caretaker' like me is to find and train those who have the qualifications of a 'Dream Traveler,' a talent that is exceedingly rare and appears only every twenty to fifty years, so that they may take up the duty as the next generation of Guardians."
The old monk let out a soft sigh. It was the first time Owen had seen him show any emotion other than calmness. "But sadly… the 68th Guardian has just recently passed away while on duty in the Dream Dimension… leaving this monastery without a Guardian for the first time in decades."
The caretaker turned to meet Owen's eyes directly, his own gaze sharp and filled with a powerful expectation.
"And that… is why I had to hurry to find the next qualified person… which is you."
The words were like a sledgehammer to Owen's head. He stood frozen, his brain trying to process information too immense to handle… Spirits and demons… the Dream Dimension… a Caretaker… and a Guardian… This whole story was too much for him to bear… and now, he was being unavoidably pulled in to become a part of it.
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