The Nightmare World.
Ash-gray streets stretched into the distance, suffocated by the heavy, lead-gray sky.
In the distance, the mottled silhouettes of buildings stood like silent tombstones upon this forgotten land.
Murphy stood at a relatively open crossroads, his gaze sweeping over the surrounding dilapidated scenery before finally settling on Rodrick.
The First-Level Wizard stood before him, his posture respectful and his eyes calm. The blood on his forehead had already dried into a dark red scab.
"Rodrick."
Murphy spoke, his voice exceptionally clear in the silent Nightmare World.
"What exactly does the Nightmare World mean to the Empire?"
Rodrick looked up at Murphy.
There was no trace of emotion in his eyes.
No joy, no sorrow, only pure reverence.
And yet, deep in his heart, the innate disdain for beings from alternate planes still lingered.
