“You just wanted me and that barbarian to tear each other apart so you could swoop in, didn’t you?! I’m standing here unscathed—disappointed much?!” Eleanor’s shrill accusations nearly pierced the Scarlet Spire’s stone walls.
Sigmund, nose-to-nose with her, almost rolled his eyes. If Eleanor could actually go toe-to-toe with Alama, he’d happily play vulture.
Too bad she couldn’t.
But Sigmund was in the wrong here. The Blood Knights’ slow response left him no defense.
He had his reasons, though!
Daily “Strange Dream” links kept him stuck in the ritual circle, and midnight was prime connection time.
Gotta hand it to Alama—raiding at midnight? Fearless.
Sigmund was helpless then. He couldn’t charge out, lead the Blood Knights, then pass out mid-fight to wrestle weird Puffshrooms in a dream.
Sending the Knights to scare Alama off was already a big risk.
One slip, and his Knights could’ve taken another heavy hit.
Eleanor didn’t know, and Sigmund wasn’t telling.
To her, it looked like Sigmund used her and her troops as bait to wear Alama down. How could she not be furious?
Finally, Eleanor stormed off. “Don’t ask for more slaves! Whatever game you’re playing, play it alone!”
Sigmund: “…”
Watching her go, his face darkened, glancing at Margas, the evil mage beside him, eyes vacant, barely breathing, silent all along.
The ritual captives and Margas himself were nearing their limit.
Now, Sigmund wondered if this was Alama’s trap all along!
That cold-blooded man—could he not only watch his wife die years ago but now use his own daughter as bait?
If so, Sigmund’s loss wasn’t unjust.
The dream battlefield’s tug-of-war dragged on, no victory in sight. He didn’t know how the enemy did it.
Time to ditch the ritual.
“My lord, if you avoid invading, the slaves’ mental strength won’t drain much,” Margas said, regaining clarity.
“No, I’m asking how to cut this ritual link completely!” Sigmund snapped, frowning.
“I told you, it can’t be stopped!” Margas whined, voice weak.
“How can a ritual be unstoppable?” Sigmund’s tone was ice.
“You’re not linked to each other but to the ‘Strange Dream’ space itself! Until one side’s mind is crushed, the link won’t break! Only one way…”
“You mean…”
“Kill their body! No vessel, their mind fades!”
“What kind of solution is that…”
The humans were already countering. Would they leave an opening for assassination?
Even Sigmund didn’t buy it!
But he’d try.
“There’s another way to stall,” Margas added.
Sigmund nodded for him to go on.
“Dreambloom potion!”
“…”
So he’d have to take it?!
Sigmund set up the assassination plan, ordered Margas to find other ways to cut the link or win fast in the dream, and tasked his alchemist to source Dreambloom potion materials.
Then, he needed more captives—easiest task by far.
Midnight, Lin Jun clocked in, sinking into the familiar dream. “Bam bam bam! Your VIP’s here! This time it’s… holy crap!”
Gritty sandstorm blasted his mushroom cap. Endless scorching yellow dunes stretched out, heat warping the air.
A desert now?
The dream was getting harsher. Even if Inanna’s mind held strong, watching Puffshroom legions clash nightly built stress, reflected in this barren dreamscape.
He swelled into a stout Green Puffshroom, stubby legs puffing up a giant dune. Peering out, he spotted a tiny oasis amid the sand.
Inanna was there, barefoot, splashing Puffshrooms in the water.
Lin Jun cloaked himself, landing silently behind drought-proof shrubs at the oasis’s edge, starting his nightly routine—mushroom crafting.
After a while, the familiar tremor hit. The dream’s edge linked—Strange Dream began!
Lin Jun deftly formed his Puffshrooms into a defensive array, ready.
What’d the enemy bring?
Giant scorpions?
Sand-burrowing lizards?
Something wilder?
But minutes ticked by, and no frenzied attack came. The desert stayed dead quiet, just hot wind wailing over dunes.
What’s the deal?
A feint to lure him out?
He sent a small Puffshroom scout team to creep into the enemy’s dream turf.
Scorpions, lizards, all sorts of desert beasts were there.
But… all hunkered down?
They clung to rocks and caves, locked in tight defense, no hint of attacking.
Did the player hit the bathroom?
Or call a truce?
No way he’d agree!
He’d poured in all this mental strength—wasting it was nuts!
If they wouldn’t come, he’d go to them!
Leaving a third of his Puffshrooms to guard the clueless Pink Puffshroom splashing away, Lin Jun led the main force in a massive charge!
Melee Puffshrooms up front, ranged… uh, too low here… uh… full army rush!
The fight was ugly, losses heavy—first time on offense, rookie mistakes.
Weirdly, the enemy had no fight in them. Despite Lin Jun’s losses, they didn’t counter or sneak toward Pink Puffshroom.
Were they finally tapped out?
With his “lose quiet, win loud” gamer spirit, just before the dream ended, Lin Jun sent a friendly jab, not caring if they got it: “What, you out of gas?”
(End of Chapter)
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