Floating high in the sky, deep lines of unease had appeared on Lucian's face for the first time. His eyes had been fixed on the intense, multicolored light bursting out from the dragon's chest—it had looked like a radiant sun.
The Evil Spirit's thousands of years of terrifying experience had immediately warned it—this was Purification Soul Energy. It was a sacred power capable of burning any foreign entity out of a body from within and forcing it out completely.
The dark entity inside Lucian had clearly begun to see its own defeat.
That fear had blinded it.
The Evil Spirit had stopped enjoying its cruel game. It had abandoned its playful approach and gathered all of its Hell Energy into a single point. Then it had launched its most powerful attack.
The massive Hell Chains had shot forward like deadly drill , aimed directly at the dragon's glowing Purification Core. The chain had pierced through the dragon's chest, and in the frenzy of that attack, the Evil Spirit had completely abandoned its logic and awareness for a few moments.
A savage smile spreads across the Evil Spirit's face. It believes it has completely eliminated the threat that could force it out of the body. It is intoxicated by the illusion of its victory.
High in the sky, within the horrifying hole in the dragon's chest, another battle is already taking place. Dark Energy is trying to devour the dragon's remaining divine and soul energy, and the dragon—supported by the continuous power flowing from Lyra—is barely holding it back.
With Lyra's help, the dragon manages to recover to some extent, but the Hell Chain has left behind a deep mark of corruption within its chest. That dark energy burns inside the wound like black flames, refusing to fade.
Despite the unbearable pain and overwhelming destruction, the Dragon Sprite holds itself together. The sky is completely filled with dark energy, forming a massive, storm-like black cloud that feels heavy and suffocating.
And yet, amidst all this destruction, the dragon has only one goal—
to instill fear in the Evil Spirit.
To force all of its attention onto itself, and make it loosen its mental guards.
And that is exactly what happens.
While the Evil Spirit uses all its power to stop the fake Purification Beam, in that very moment—hidden behind the blinding white light of the explosion—the dragon makes its real move.
Silently.
Precisely.
Lyra's consciousness slips forward like a thin needle and enters the unguarded part of Lucian's mind.
The dragon glances at the bleeding wound in its chest. The pain is unbearable, yet a faint smile appears on its face—a smile filled with pain, and success.
"Foolish entity… what you see as my defeat is actually the key to our victory."
"As long as your attention remains fixed on this wound, Lyra has already crossed into the borders of your domain."
The dragon's wound is still deep, and the pain remains unbearable. With blurred vision, it looks at Lucian—who is still lost in the illusion of his victory.
He has no idea…
that Lyra has already entered the depths of his mind—
where Lucian's true, suppressed soul is imprisoned.
The Evil Spirit had already decided not to waste even a single moment. It knew that as long as the dragon remained alive, Lyra's Divine Energy would continue to support it.
A cold glint appeared in its eyes.
Without hesitation, it unleashed thousands of Hell Chains toward the dragon. The chains tore through the air with sharp, piercing sounds, distorting the space around them as they surged forward.
Its intention was clear—
to drain the dragon completely…
and to kill Lyra, who was sitting on its back—
so that Lucian would witness his sister's death with his own eyes… and completely break from within, losing any will to resist.
Lucian (the Evil Spirit) thought to itself,
"Now this dragon cannot escape me. My Dark Energy has already entered its body and is devouring its soul from within… it's only a matter of time before it collapses."
With that thought, it launched multiple deadly attacks at once. The chains twisted and struck from every direction, each impact carrying a crushing force that shook the surrounding air.
On the other side—
the Dragon Sprite's body had already been torn apart, its scales cracked and damaged, yet it stood firm.
It was not only defending itself—
it was holding something far more important.
The dragon was pouring all of its mental strength into maintaining the "rainbow bridge", ensuring that Lyra's consciousness would not get lost in that dark world.
Lyra's body lay motionless within the dragon's scales, completely limp.
All of the dragon's remaining energy was being consumed to sustain that fragile mental path. Because of this, the deep wound in its chest had stopped healing entirely.
Dark Energy continued to burn inside that hollow space, and with every strike of the Hell Chains, the dragon became more and more wounded. Fragments of light scattered from its body with each impact, yet—
it did not move.
It did not fall.
Lyra can still faintly feel the disturbance happening outside, like distant echoes brushing against her consciousness, because her mind has not yet completely separated from her body.
As she moves forward along that dim, fragile rainbow path, the space around her feels unstable—dark shadows stretch and twist at the edges of her vision, never staying still, while the air grows heavier with every step, pressing against her like an invisible weight that seeps into her thoughts.
It becomes harder to focus, harder to think clearly, as if something unseen is slowly tightening its grip around her mind.
Suddenly, strange questions begin to rise within her, not gently—
but forcefully, as if they are being pushed into her thoughts from somewhere else. Was the attack on the dragon that deep? I can feel it… something terrible is happening outside.
That dark energy is killing the dragon… and it can't even fight back… I need to find Lucian quickly. Her thoughts start racing, overlapping with each other, but before she can hold onto them, they begin to slip away, breaking apart into fragments.
Confusion creeps in. But… where am I supposed to go? Why am I going? No… why are these thoughts even coming to me? Why is my focus slipping? Why does everything feel so blurred? The rainbow path beneath her feet flickers faintly, as if it might disappear at any moment, and her surroundings begin to distort like a reflection in disturbed water.
A strange pressure builds inside her head. Am I forgetting something…? Why does it feel like something important is missing? Why is it becoming so hard just to think…? Even forming a single thought now feels exhausting, as if her own mind is resisting her.
Then, without warning, everything falls silent—not a peaceful silence, but a hollow, suffocating emptiness that swallows even the sound of her own thoughts. For a brief moment, it feels as if she no longer exists anywhere… as if the world itself has paused.
And then it breaks.
All at once, thousands of unknown presences rush toward her consciousness—shapeless, restless, like fragments of broken memories or strange voices trying to force their way inside her mind. They don't have form, yet they feel disturbingly real, brushing against her awareness, trying to merge with it.
Before they can reach her, a warm, radiant force spreads around her—the dragon's energy—forming a protective barrier that pushes those things back. They collide against it endlessly, like waves crashing against a wall, but cannot pass through. In that moment, Lyra realizes something terrifying—her connection to the outside world is completely gone. There is no sound, no presence, no way back.
Then suddenly, the ground beneath her feet cracks. A sharp fracture spreads outward, and before she can react, it shatters completely. Lyra begins to fall again—like a raindrop slipping into an endless void, with no direction, no control, nothing to hold onto.
The darkness below her seems alive, pulling her deeper, swallowing everything.
"I'm falling again… how many times has this happened?" she asks herself, her voice trembling within her own mind, echoing strangely in the emptiness. "No… this is the first time… but then why does it feel like this has happened thousands of times before? Why can't I remember?" The deeper she falls, the stronger that strange familiarity becomes, twisting her thoughts, blurring the line between memory and illusion. "What happens after this…? If this has happened before… then I should know… I should remember… so why don't I?"
But no answer comes.
Only the feeling remains—
that something is wrong.
Deeply, disturbingly wrong—
as she continues to fall deeper into the endless darkness.
Suddenly, Lyra felt as if she were sinking into a deep, endless ocean—but this was different. The pressure around her was overwhelming, as if some invisible being was pressing against her from all sides with thousands of unseen hands. The weight kept increasing, crushing her from every direction, making it harder and harder for her to breathe. No matter how much she struggled, she couldn't free herself from that suffocating force.
Gradually, she began to feel her connection to her own body slipping away. It was a strange, unsettling sensation—like something was pulling her consciousness out from within her very soul, dragging it away piece by piece. Thinking became difficult… then almost impossible. Understanding anything felt distant, fading, like something she once knew but could no longer reach. Even her sense of self began to blur, as if it was being erased.
Time seemed to freeze. Slowly, she began to lose the awareness that she had ever even had a body. There was nothing before her eyes—only emptiness, as if she had never possessed sight at all. No sound reached her, as if she had never had ears. She could no longer feel anything. No warmth, no pain, no presence.
Lyra was no longer a body.
She was only an existence—
formless, weightless, without flesh or bone.
And as the pressure kept increasing, that existence itself began to scatter, becoming lighter and lighter… until it felt as if she was dissolving into nothing, like air slipping away into an endless void.
In that endless void, where nothing existed and even the idea of existence had begun to fade, something suddenly stirred. A faint disturbance rippled through the emptiness, and then—without warning—a single drop of water fell into a small, dry, lifeless hollow on the ground.
Tap.
That tiny sound echoed far longer than it should have, breaking the suffocating silence. The moment that single drop touched the dry surface, a soft ripple spread outward, and moisture slowly began to fill the empty hollow.
Then, as if something unseen had awakened, countless droplets began to fall from above, one after another, faster and faster. The sound of rain grew, filling the void with a strange rhythm as the hollow absorbed everything.
Gentle waves formed, and within moments, the once barren, cracked ground transformed into a calm, clear pond, its surface reflecting a quiet, almost unnatural stillness. The surrounding emptiness seemed to shift slightly, as if that small body of water had breathed life into something that had long been dead.
Then, something even stranger began to happen. The surface of the pond trembled, and the water slowly started to rise upward, defying all logic. Thin streams lifted into the air and began connecting with each other, forming a vague, unstable shape. That shape slowly took form—a human-like figure made entirely of water. It moved awkwardly, its structure constantly shifting and collapsing, as if it was trying to understand its own existence for the very first time.
The figure raised its hand, attempting to touch itself, but the moment contact was made, the form broke apart, splashing back into the pond below, unable to hold itself together.
And then—
Lyra awakened inside that form.
A sudden awareness surged through her. She was no longer just a drifting consciousness lost in nothingness—she was becoming something again. A shape. A presence. A being. She could see. She could hear. She could feel. The water around her was no longer separate—it was her. Every drop in that pond carried a fragment of her consciousness, her existence, her very self.
Her eyes snapped open.
Panic hit her instantly.
"No! I haven't found my brother yet! How did I wake up? Where is that Evil Spirit? Where is the dragon?"
Her voice echoed strangely, blending with the faint sound of rippling water. She looked around in confusion, and what she saw made her freeze. The world around her didn't resemble reality in any way. Endless ponds stretched in every direction, scattered across a vast, undefined space. Above, rain continued to fall endlessly, each drop feeding into those ponds, keeping them alive. The air felt damp, heavy, filled with a strange stillness that made everything feel distant and unreal.
Lyra quickly looked down at herself, her breathing uneven. Her body felt… wrong. Not weak—but unfamiliar, unstable. When she leaned forward and looked into the surface of the pond she stood within, the reflection staring back at her confirmed it—this wasn't her real body. It was her soul.
For a brief moment, relief washed over her. She hadn't awakened in the real world yet. That meant… she still had time. She could still save her brother.
But that relief faded quickly.
Her expression hardened.
Without wasting another second, she tried to move, pushing her arms and legs to climb out of the pond. But the moment she tried, the water reacted. It tightened around her, gripping her like chains, pulling her back, refusing to let her leave. The more she struggled, the stronger that invisible restraint became, wrapping around her limbs with unnatural force.
Lyra gritted her teeth and forced herself forward.
Pain exploded through her body.
It wasn't normal pain—it was sharp, tearing, unbearable. A realization struck her instantly. When she had been only a consciousness, she had felt nothing. But now… now that she had taken form, every movement came with sensation. Every pull, every resistance—it hurt. It felt as if she was ripping herself apart just to move forward, like peeling her own existence away from itself.
Her breathing became heavy.
Her vision trembled.
But she didn't stop.
Biting down on her lip to suppress the scream rising inside her, she continued to pull herself forward, inch by inch, dragging her own form out of the pond. The resistance fought back, but her will pushed harder. Slowly, painfully, she managed to crawl out, her body collapsing onto the ground outside.
The moment she was out—
a wave of weakness hit her.
Her entire body felt hollow, drained, unstable. It was then she realized—the pond wasn't just water. It had been sustaining her, feeding her existence. Without it, she felt incomplete… like something essential was missing from within her.
Struggling to stand, she slowly began to move forward through that unfamiliar world.
And then—
a chill ran down her spine.
She stopped.
Her eyes moved across the endless ponds around her.
And this time—
she understood.
Each pond wasn't just water.
They were reflections… like screens playing fragments of something deeper. Inside them, she could see different lives unfolding—moments of pain, memories filled with warmth, emotions too deep to describe. Every pond held a different story. A different person. Their past, their suffering, their truth.
Lyra's body trembled slightly.
Slowly, she turned back.
And looked at the pond she had just come out of.
It was completely still.
Unlike the others, there was no rain falling into it. No ripples. No memories. No reflections.
Just clear, empty water—
silent… untouched… and completely alone.
Lyra tried to steady her heavy, uneven breathing, forcing herself to stay in control as the strange weakness continued to spread through her. Her soul body felt incredibly light, almost fragile, as if even the slightest breeze could scatter her into nothing.
Every step forward demanded all of her willpower, as though she was pushing against an invisible force that resisted her movement.
At times, her form flickered and blurred, fading at the edges, but she kept herself together and continued moving, refusing to stop.
As she moved along the path, she passed countless ponds scattered across that endless space. Within them, she could see faint human silhouettes—reflections of lives that weren't hers.
Some ponds glowed with warm, golden memories, moments filled with happiness, love, and peace that shimmered gently like sunlight. Others, however, held something far more disturbing—dark, twisted memories so intense that just looking at them sent a deep chill through her.
Lyra instinctively turned her gaze away, avoiding those scenes, as if even a glance was enough to weigh down her already fragile mind, and continued forward without slowing down.
She kept walking for what felt like a long time, though time itself didn't seem to exist in that place. The path stretched endlessly, silent and unfamiliar, and with every step, she realized something was missing. She could no longer feel the Dragon Sprite.
The connection she had believed was unbreakable—formed through the merging of their consciousness—was now faint, distant, almost gone. A quiet realization settled within her… their bond was still incomplete, fragile. In that infinite, unknown world, she was completely alone.
Even so, she didn't stop. Lyra moved from one pond to another, crossing the terrain without hesitation.
Sometimes she carefully walked between sharp, jagged rocks that rose from the ground like broken fragments, their edges cold and lifeless. Other times, she had to leap across uneven surfaces, forcing her weak body to keep going despite the strain. The world around her felt unstable, constantly shifting, yet she pushed forward with determination.
Then—
her movement slowed.
Among all the ponds she had seen, one suddenly stood out.
It was different.
Not calm.
Not reflective.
But something far more unsettling… something that made her stop the moment she looked at it.