As his injuries were already healed, in a journey between the realm of the Dead Eye of the Fallens and the real world which is none other than a fabric of time, a time that couldn't exist, in that sight of non-existent time his body healed.

So if he sleeps again maybe the reality will utter the healing again in the process—or so he thought.

He slightly scratched his head due to itching, giving off an irritating expression.

Perhaps he will advance to the adept branch today, it was really ironic and funny at the same time he had concluded two times that he would ascend to the adept branch while as just a moment ago back in the realm he has decided he ain't going to ascend, not today.

'hehe' He chuckled slightly, patted his face .

Ibaan then sank into bed again, though he didn't fall asleep.

…

He opened his eyes again to the red sky filled with countless dead eyes. In the far distance, the lone tower stood tall, small uneven hills rose around it, and a few thin trees dotted the land. Abominations crawled and stood in twisted shapes across the ground.

Realising he was back in the realm of the Dead Eye of the Fallen, Ibaan's eyes brightened.

His guess was right again—sleep really did let him move between this place and the real world.

'Will my new guesses come true too?'

The thought made his eyes shine even more. It felt strange, almost funny.

Right away, he began guessing again.

What if he got all his power, memories, and experience back the moment he arrived?

What if a door opened in front of him, leading straight to the real world?

Of course, nothing like that happened. But one thing did come true—the tiredness in his body was gone without a single trace.

Ignoring the thoughts running in his head, Ibaan let out a slow breath and turned toward the Utopian sword lying behind him. Its red blade caught the glow of the huge crimson dead eye above in the red sky resembling the sun of the realm, shining with a sharp and eerie light that washed over the whole realm.

'I should connect it to the relic first.'

He lifted the sword by the hilt and rested it on his lap. Then he shut his eyes, opened them again, and let his Vampire vision come forth. His pupils glowed a deep crimson.

At once, the previous threads became visible, the faint lines tied to the sword, and the ones tied to the relic. They overlapped in strange patterns, stretching from deep inside his soul, running through his body, then extending far outward toward the wall… and even passing through it.

His eyes widened.

It made no sense—nothing ever did

This realm was completely isolated and was unreachable from the real world.

So how were the threads of the system between him and the Servants of Will reaching beyond this place?

Well, since he couldn't figure it out, he chose not to think about it anymore. Maybe it was just a glitch in this world.

'hehe'

Bringing all thoughts to bear upon the work at hand, he moved his hands toward the swirling threads of the sword. They wrapped around his fingers as he wove a new thread into them. It was far easier than building something from nothing—like when he had created the relic for the Servants of Will, during which he had to weave masks and programs. That task had drained him completely. But weaving a simple connection thread here was nothing compared to that.

He only needed to weave its name into the thread, which was a bit tiring. He didn't know what to name it, but from the faint memories in his mind, he settled on calling it: Utopian's Duke.

Once he finished, the sword's thread linked with the relic's thread, and the woven line sank deep into his soul.

And at the same juncture a familiar panel appeared before him.

[You have received a weapon: Utopian's Duke]

Ibaan's eyes finally softened, returning to their normal crimson shade.

He shifted his stance and stood up, holding the Utopian sword.

Turning his head, he looked toward the huge wooden gate at the top of the small staircase.

Climbing the stairs, he paused before the gate and studied it quietly. The ancient lock was rusted and partly broken, with thick webs clinging to its edges.

Calling on nature, he swung his sword toward the gate, letting the wind behind the blade crash into it with tremendous force. The lock snapped apart and fell, and the gate creaked open, sending dust swirling through the air.

A cold, fresh gust of wind swept past him, pushing his hair back.

As the view cleared, he saw a stretch of soft green land dotted with herbs, shrubs, and countless towering trees whose leaves moved gently. The silence was almost unreal, so calm it felt like a piece of heaven. And it was clear now that no living beings were here except him and the strange abominations.

At last, he found the answer to his earlier question: how did the realm of the Dead Eye of the Fallens have so much air despite having so few trees? It was only inside the walls that the air was thin; outside, countless trees fed the world with fresh oxygen. For the first time since arriving here, something finally made sense.

Ibaan sighed again—one of his habits.

He walked forward, letting his vision open wider. Looking past the treetops, he caught sight of a tower rising endlessly into the red sky. But he couldn't hold his gaze for long; the sky burned too fiercely. His eyes stung, tears forming, forcing him to look down at once.

And just then another dark rush of wind swept across the whole place, blowing out from the forest. In the next second, the creature landed on the broad branch without making a single sound. Its wings folded tight against its back as its bone mask lifted slightly, revealing sharp purple eyes glowing through the carved gaps. Its shadow stretched long and thin across the bark, and the thin antlers gave a soft clink as it tilted its head.

For a moment, it simply stood there like something the forest itself had chosen to send.

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