The small, dusty chamber was dimly lit by an untraceable light source, keeping the space from falling into complete darkness.
Aesc lay motionless on the ground, her once-clear teal eyes now dull and lifeless. Her golden hair, freed from its ribbon, spread across the dusty floor like threads of molten gold. Even in death, her doll-like face was frozen in an expression of disbelief and confusion, as if unable to comprehend the events leading to her demise.
Fern gripped her staff tightly, her cold gaze fixed on the lifeless body before her. She stood in silence, the air in the room growing heavier with every passing second.
Finally, a sigh broke the oppressive stillness.
"Well… you finally did it."
Fern's expression shifted instantly.
She spun around, raising her staff in one fluid motion, aiming it toward the source of the voice.
"How dull… I waited so patiently, and that's how 'I' die? Such an unceremonious ending. As the leading lady of this play, I feel entitled to lodge a complaint with the writer and editor."
Standing before Fern was Aesc, utterly unfazed despite having a staff pointed directly at her. She even found the time to critique the "plot."
"You… why?" Fern's voice trembled with disbelief.
"Ah, now that surprised look suits you," Aesc replied, her tone brimming with satisfaction. "It was worth putting up with all this just to see it."
She watched as Fern's bewildered gaze darted between her and the body on the floor. Aesc nodded approvingly before raising her hand and snapping her fingers.
The sound was crisp, and the "body" on the ground began to disintegrate. It transformed into countless pink petals that drifted toward Aesc, filling the dusty chamber with a captivating floral scent.
"It's not exactly a complicated spell," Aesc remarked, her tone lighthearted. "But in this confined space, it's the perfect fit—specialized and efficient."
Aesc turned her attention back to Fern, whose face had darkened considerably.
"You look upset. That's odd. From what I know of you, your emotions rarely fluctuate. Is it that hard to accept defeat in your area of expertise?" Aesc's warm smile was laced with mockery. "But that expression doesn't suit Fern's face. You were doing a good job staying in character before. No OOC slips."
Fern—or rather, the imposter posing as her—had no intention of listening any further.
Channeling her magic, the imposter unleashed a beam of pure energy from her staff. It was a standard attack magic—modeled after Qual the Rotten Sage's infamous "Killer Magic," a spell so deadly that it had once struck fear into humanity.
Simple, quick, and efficient, it was the most basic spell that every mage knew. And when it came to this particular magic, Fern's casting speed was unmatched—even faster than Frieren's.
The beam erupted from her staff, crossing the two-meter distance in an instant. At such close range, evasion or defense should have been impossible.
The spell struck its target—only, it wasn't Aesc.
The imposter's eyes widened in shock as she looked down at herself.
Her body, or what remained of it, was shredded. Over two-thirds of her torso had been obliterated, leaving only fragments.
How? How did the attack I cast hit me instead of her?
As this question echoed in her mind, her body began to crumble. With no lower half to support it, her upper body fell toward the ground, dissolving into ash before it could land.
The imposter's gaze fell on the pink petals still swirling in the air. Recognition dawned in her eyes just before her mouth disintegrated along with the rest of her.
She never made it to the ground, her entire form reduced to dust, swept away by an unseen breeze.
One petal drifted gently downward, caught in a hand as delicate as a budding spring leaf.
"So young, so gullible," Aesc murmured, rubbing the petal between her fingers and pressing it to her lips. "Though I'm nowhere near that white-haired scam artist, fooling someone like this is hardly a challenge."
Her expression shifted, turning thoughtful.
"But seeing something with Fern's face die like that… it's unsettling," she admitted.
At some point, the floor beneath her feet had become a sea of pink blossoms. Petals danced in the still air, encircling her like a living halo.
"Well, since that's dealt with, it's time to move on… Let me think—what was the next step again?"
Raising her staff above her head, Aesc twirled it dramatically.
"Behold, Britannian Magic—[Artoria's Lunchtime Ritual]!"
She brought the base of her staff down onto the flower-covered floor.
Ripples spread outward from the point of contact, their shimmering waves distorting the air like reflections on a pond. As the ripples expanded, the illusion shattered, blurring the line between dream and reality.
---
With a sudden jolt, Aesc sprang to her feet, perfectly balanced as if waking from a light nap.
Around her, three others lay on the ground, fast asleep. The closest was Fern, just half a meter away. Stark lay about five meters away, and Frieren was sprawled at the farthest distance, around eight meters away.
Seeing Frieren's ungraceful sleeping posture, Aesc sighed and rubbed her forehead.
"Sorry to wake you all when you seem so peacefully asleep… but it's time to get up. I hope none of you have a bad case of morning grumpiness."
When Stark woke, his expression was one of utter bewilderment, caught between the haze of dream and reality.
"Where… am I?"
"Lord Stark, you're finally awake," Fern said calmly.
"Fern? And… Lady Aesc?"
Aesc nodded, then gestured toward Fern. "Explaining everything is a hassle, so I'll leave that to you. I'll go check on Frieren."
Leaving Fern and Stark to their own devices, Aesc made her way over to Frieren.
After a few minutes of conversation, Fern managed to bring Stark up to speed.
"A monster that traps people in dreams and kills them…"
Stark's face turned pale as he pieced it together. "So I… I almost died just now?!"
"You wouldn't have," Fern reassured him. "Lady Aesc was monitoring all three of our dreams. If any of us encountered danger, she would've woken us immediately. Once we're awake, those dream monsters can't hurt us."
Hearing this, Stark's complexion regained some color.
"Lady Aesc…"
As Stark and Fern approached Aesc, they noticed something strange: Frieren was still asleep.
Aesc had woken them both in less than a minute, yet Frieren had been lying there for over five.
Stark's pupils dilated in panic, and Fern raised a trembling hand to her mouth.
"Lady Aesc… don't tell me… is Frieren…"
"No, she's just refusing to get up," Aesc said flatly.
As if on cue, Frieren smacked her lips in her sleep, murmuring, "Just five more minutes… No, five more hours…"
Stark & Fern: "…"
---
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