Chapter 125: Dreams of Days Gone By I

Is this... Hermetica?

The young man rubbed his temples. His body felt as heavy as if filled with lead, and his consciousness was muddled and hazy. Simply opening his eyes to behold this ancient world—shrouded in thick, gloomy clouds and rendered almost entirely in black and white—exhausted him. He swayed like a drunkard, nearly collapsing to the ground.

This is truly brutal.

Finding a bench by the street, Amy didn't even bother to take a second look before collapsing onto it.

He closed his eyes.

Even though, within that world where the line between reality and dream blurred, he had shone with brilliant, radiant light like an ancient ancestor cleaving through chaotic darkness, dealing a heavy blow to that indescribable, formless monster, such terrifying power—far exceeding his limits—had not come without a cost. Whether it was the dark-blooded short sword or the Primal Fire, borrowing their strength demanded a steep price: either the blood of glory inherited from his ancestors or his own vitality. Not to mention that in his state at the time, the resonance between the Primal Fire and the sword that cleaved the darkness had caused the power supplied to him to multiply rather than simply add up...

And what of the price corresponding to that power?

The youth remained silent.

Then, he gave up on thinking.

He simply lay on the bench, letting his mind go blank amidst the headache that begged for rest.

Sleep.

Time slipped away unnoticed. How much time passed, he could not say, but the young Glory-Bearer finally stepped into the realm of nothingness, free from pain and worry, just as he had hoped.

He used the dream to soothe his fatigue, letting time smooth over his wounds.

In that grey world built of black and white, Amy Ulysses, having finally enjoyed a proper rest, opened his eyes. He pressed a hand to his brow; though the headache had eased significantly and his spirit felt relatively refreshed, he still felt sore and groggy, as if waking from a hangover.

It couldn't be helped.

After rubbing his temples, the youth sighed in resignation.

After all, recovery was a long process. Expecting a single nap to wash away his injuries was no better than indulging in a daydream—at least that would allow him to recover for a while without pain.

The young Glory-Bearer thought this to himself, then rose to his feet.

After sweeping his gaze across the world before him, he could not help but lower his head slightly.

This is Hermetica.

There was no doubt about it; the layout of the streets and the classical architecture standing between them confirmed as much.

However... it was also not Hermetica.

At least, not the Hermetica of reality. Setting aside the disconcerting grey-white tone of the entire world, the Temple of Hephaestus standing before him alone told him that this could not be Hermetica—it could not be the Hermetica he knew.

Then where was this place?

He didn't know.

The youth could only provide this answer. He truly had no way of knowing his current whereabouts. His memory stopped at the moment he burned his own soul, swinging the sword of flame at the terrifying, indescribable monster lurking in the dark abyss. What happened afterward—he had no recollection of it whatsoever.

So...

This was awkward.

Rubbing his nose, the young Glory-Bearer decided to try his luck at the Temple of Hephaestus.

Though he was hardly conscious of it, he was the High Priest of the Temple of Hephaestus, one of the most respected figures in all of Hermetica. Perhaps in this temple, which housed the sacred fire, he could find information to help break the current deadlock.

However, an accident occurred the moment he stepped toward the temple.

Like a dream or a bubble, the world collapsed with a roar.

Time and space rotated; the world was reconstructed.

When his foot touched the ground, he had already been thrust into a new world—one both familiar and strange.

This is...

Upon seeing the scene that emerged before him, Amy froze, a complex look of shock, reminiscence, and yearning crossing his face as he stopped in his tracks.

Hamilton Avenue.

The place where he, Yulia, and his parents had once lived.

This is home.

The young Glory-Bearer surveyed the familiar yet strange street. Though the once-bustling Hamilton Avenue now appeared stained by the passage of time under the world's greyish tint, filled with an incredible sense of mottling, perhaps that was precisely why he stopped. The conflicting emotions of a wanderer returning home and the trepidation of nearing one's roots churned within him like a dye vat mixed with twenty-four different colors. He didn't even know what to make of the feeling himself.

Yet, the body is always honest.

When the youth came to his senses, he had already arrived before his own mansion.

"Home..."

Amy murmured, a complex and profound sentiment escaping him.

Then, silence.

His gaze remained hollow, fixed upon the pitch-black gate before him. He neither moved forward nor retreated, simply extending his hand and letting it hover there, somewhat abruptly.

If he opened it... then what?

They were gone, after all.

The lonely sigh had barely left his lips when the youth’s brow, not yet relaxed, suddenly stiffened.

A sound came from behind him.

The young Glory-Bearer turned, the figure of the approaching person reflected in his dark pupils.

It was a young girl of about eight or nine. Her slightly chubby features were so exquisite they seemed inhuman; her black eyes sparkled, and her long, silvery hair hung down softly, reaching nearly to her ankles. Paired with a white dress that fit her perfectly, she possessed an otherworldly quality that defied reality, even amidst a crowd. She was like a snow sprite descended into the mortal world in the middle of winter, surrounded by a dreamlike, ethereal aura.

"Yulia."

He subconsciously whispered the girl's name.

Then, silence returned.

Something was wrong... very wrong.

Amy Ulysses furrowed his brow. There was no doubt that this young girl was his sister, Yulia. And yet... she was not the Yulia of reality, but the Yulia from the past—roughly four or five years ago. Furthermore, even though he was standing right in front of the gate, she did not see him.

In other words, this was the past, or an illusion that presented the appearance of the past to some extent.

Could it be a trap?

The youth remained noncommittal. He couldn't rule out the possibility, but... it didn't feel like it.

For one, it was too deliberate. For another, if the master of this place truly held malice toward him, the void he experienced after his death-defying battle with the nameless chaos beast in the endless darkness beneath Hermetica would have been the perfect moment to strike. Even with the Omen of Death by his side, in that terrible state, it would have been difficult to survive.

Therefore, he would try to make contact with Yulia.

If he guessed correctly, it should simply be a phantom of memory.

Amy squinted, then stepped toward the young girl, passing right through her.

He passed through her like a dream or a bubble.

No physical form?

No, he simply could not touch her.

Nodding in realization, the young Glory-Bearer basically confirmed that he could not directly interfere with "history." His vigilance eased slightly; this fact not only proved that this was not the real world but also suggested that the master of the illusion held no malice toward him.

After all... this illusion was so crudely made.

He pursed his lips, a faint curve forming at the corners of his mouth. He then followed Yulia’s footsteps, walking side-by-side with the only maid the Ulysses family had in his memories.

Her name was Sia, a remarkably capable maid. Although the Ulysses family was so small it was no different from an average family of four, the mansion and the grounds they occupied were quite large. To manage everything in perfect order while possessing accomplishments in social etiquette, heraldry, art, and swordsmanship—such talent didn't seem like something a declining family of Glory-Bearers could retain.

Now that he thought about it, it was ten to one related to the Night Watchers.

It was just... he was a bit unsure. She was clearly more familiar and intimate with his mother, and her sense of hierarchy was more pronounced.

Never mind, no need to dwell on it.

Shaking his head, the youth followed the two into the mansion.

At the rectangular table in the dining room, he met his parents again—people whose presence in his memory had been fading day by day.

At the head of the table sat a young-looking adult male with black hair and eyes. Judging by his features, while he didn't share much resemblance with Amy, the temperament he exuded was identical. When they stood together, their relationship required no explanation.

They were father and son.

Leo Ulysses was the man's name.

Seated on the left side of the table was a young woman who looked to be only eighteen or nineteen. Time had not left a single trace on her lovely face; instead, it had further refined her beauty. Her long, silvery hair rested softly on her shoulders. Her dignified posture and the naturally charming black eyes gave her both the innocence and allure of a young girl, and the elegance and dignity of a mature woman.

Naturally, she was Amy’s mother, Enid Ulysses.

Seeing his parents again, from whom he had heard nothing, the young Glory-Bearer felt not only the joy of a long-awaited reunion but also a lingering sense of melancholy and bitterness.

In the end, this warm scene before him was nothing but a phantom of the past.

In reality, his parents were likely—

The youth stopped his imagination in time, pulling his attention back.

"Welcome back, Yulia." Amy’s father, Leo Ulysses, naturally wore a gentle smile, his qualities as a doting father evident in that moment. "How was school? How are you getting along with your classmates? Has any teacher been bullying you..."

The cool, gentle temperament collapsed in an instant; his rapid-fire questions were more incessant than a chatterbox.

"Alright, that’s enough." Enid, balanced on the ambiguous line between a young girl and a woman, stopped her husband's seemingly endless questioning. "One question at a time. How is Yulia supposed to answer like that? Besides, it's mealtime, please be quiet."

And so, the world was peaceful again.

"Mmm."

The young girl only gave a low response, then held her dinner knife, cutting her steak in a cute and clumsy manner.

Mmm, super cute.

The veteran doting father and the veteran doting brother nodded in unison at that moment.

However...

The youth, standing to the side like transparent air, felt a deep sense of discord even as he was moved by the long-lost warmth of daily life.

He felt as though... he had forgotten something.

Something was not right.

His brow furrowed involuntarily, forming an arc.