Demeter had told him that he had better be planning a combat simulation, but the suspicion in her amber eyes clearly said, ‘As if I believe that for a second.’
Still clutching his aching stomach, Dio nodded obediently and put on his most innocent expression as he watched her turn and leave the room.
The moment the door closed behind her, however, that well-behaved look vanished.
A sly, triumphant smile took its place.
What a joke.
Demeter did not want him misusing [Dreamwalker]?
Did she honestly expect him to obey simply because she said so?
He might be a member of her Familia, and she had certainly taken in a homeless stranger from another world, but that did not mean Dio intended to follow her every command without question.
He was not some mindless yes-man, much less a puppet for a goddess to control however she pleased.
More importantly, [Dreamwalker] and [Slaanesh] were the foundation of his survival.
Whether he could thrive in this dangerous world depended almost entirely on how well he used them.
Demeter might genuinely have his best interests at heart.
Perhaps she was afraid he would become addicted to the pleasures of dreams and neglect his growth in reality.
But Dio understood his own situation better than anyone.
For him, training inside a dream was still training.
He could fight in dreams, improve in dreams, gather experience and ability points in dreams, then use everything he gained there to overcome dangers in the real world.
What could possibly be more efficient than that?
“Goddess tsk tsk…
you still have much to learn.”
Dio muttered to himself as he rubbed his sore abdomen, then sat down on the edge of the bed.
Closing his eyes, he began regulating his breathing and gathering his concentration.
He did not dislike Demeter.
Quite the opposite.
He was genuinely grateful to the goddess who had taken him in, and he had already developed a certain fondness for her.
She might occasionally resort to violence and never hesitate to tear into him with her words, but Dio could tell that she simply did not want him to lose his way.
At the very least, she treated him as one of her own.
Gratitude, however, did not require blind obedience.
In his previous life, Dio had spent years navigating the workplace and dealing with all kinds of people.
He had learned one lesson early: other people’s advice was worth hearing, but the final decision had to be his own.
If Demeter did not want him using [Dreamwalker], then he would simply use it without telling her.
She could not watch him every second of the day, nor would she truly kill him over something so minor.
After all, Demeter still wanted him to take her to another world.
If she killed him now, her dream of traveling beyond this world would die with him.
That knowledge gave Dio all the confidence he needed.
He slowly steadied his breathing until his thoughts became calm, then began deciding what kind of dream he should create.
If he was going to weave a dream, it needed to be worthwhile.
Creating a few ordinary goblins or a simple Dungeon environment for combat practice would certainly be useful, but it would also waste the true potential of [Dreamwalker].
Besides simulating battles, the Magic possessed another far more valuable function—it could allow him to contact another person’s soul and copy their Magic or Skills.
The previous night, he had somehow encountered Alfia’s soul and acquired [Satanas Verion] and [Genos Angelus] without even realizing what was happening.
That was Alfia, the Level Seven Monster of Talent!
She had been one of the greatest adventurers in Orario’s entire history!
Yet Dio had done nothing more than sleep, and two of her spells had simply appeared on his status.
If the adventurers of Orario learned about that, they would be sick with envy.
If an unconscious encounter had rewarded him so generously, what might happen if he deliberately sought out the soul of another powerful person?
Would the results be even greater?
The thought made Dio’s heart pound.
Excitement raced along his spine like an electric current as he quickly searched his memories for someone worth targeting.
He had already encountered Alfia, and he currently had no idea how to reach her again.
So who else in Orario possessed exceptional power?
Riveria Ljos Alf.
The vice captain of the Loki Familia, the strongest mage in Orario, and the woman known as Nine Hell.
She was a Level Six and one of the most gifted High Elves alive.
Her command of Magic was almost unmatched within the city.
On the battlefield, she was essentially a walking magical fortress.
If [Dreamwalker] allowed Dio to touch Riveria’s soul and copy even one of her spells…
His blood nearly boiled at the thought.
Any one of Riveria’s spells would increase his combat power enormously.
More importantly, Riveria was beautiful, powerful, aloof, and elegant—the very image of a refined High Elf.
That meant even if Dio failed to copy her Magic after entering her dream, he might still be able to trigger [Slaanesh] and gain another surge of ability points.
Either way, he stood to benefit.
And if Demeter discovered what he had done and punched him again?
So what?
Once the ability points had already been added to his status, it was not as though she could beat them back out of him.
“It’s decided.
Riveria it is!”
Dio slapped his thigh, his face filled with confidence.
He drew a deep breath, closed his eyes, and focused every ounce of concentration on activating [Dreamwalker] deliberately.
“[Dreamwalker]—Dream Weaving.
Target: Riveria Ljos Alf.”
The moment he completed the command in his mind, a strange warmth surged from the depths of his soul.
It spread through his consciousness like countless invisible threads, intertwining and weaving themselves together.
Dio felt his awareness begin to sink, as though he were descending into an endless ocean.
The light around him gradually faded, and every sound grew distant until absolute silence enveloped him.
Then points of light appeared within the darkness.
They flickered like stars, gathering and revolving as they slowly formed the vague outline of an immense world.
The dream was taking shape!
…
At that same moment, on the opposite side of Orario, a green-haired elven woman sat at a desk inside an elegant room filled with magical texts and tightly rolled scrolls.
She held a thick ancient volume in her hands.
Her features were beautiful yet stern, and her emerald eyes carried the composed authority of someone accustomed to standing above others.
Though her robes were simple, they were perfectly arranged, and an untouchable dignity surrounded her.
She was Riveria Ljos Alf.
The strongest mage in Orario.
Without warning, a strange wave of drowsiness washed over her.
It came from nowhere, settling over her thoughts like a thin, invisible veil.
Riveria’s mind was normally sharp and focused, but it suddenly began to feel hazy and sluggish.
“Strange…”
She frowned, placed the book on the desk, and rubbed her temples in an attempt to clear the unnatural fatigue.
It only grew stronger.
The drowsiness rolled over her in wave after wave, becoming heavier with every passing second until she could barely keep her eyes open.
‘Did I spend too long reviewing reports today…?’
Her voice faded into a quiet murmur as her eyelids grew heavier.
The room around her began to blur and distort.
Finally, Riveria slumped forward onto the desk.
Her long lashes trembled faintly before she fell completely asleep.