The moment Lucien Blackwood stepped out from the flames, the black mist froze.
Then it began to writhe violently.
The shapeless darkness twisted through the burning air like a wounded beast cornered at the edge of a cliff.
Even without words—
its fury was unmistakable.
Lucien looked up calmly.
"So you do understand fear."
The black mist surged forward suddenly.
The surrounding fire intensified instantly, as though the entity were trying to drag the entire dreamscape into chaos before escaping.
But the moment the darkness moved—
the space around it distorted.
Like invisible chains tightening.
The black mist slammed against an unseen barrier and recoiled violently.
Lucien wiped the blood slowly leaking from beneath his nose.
His pale face showed exhaustion, yet the smile in his eyes only deepened.
"Stop struggling."
"You can't leave anymore."
The moment those words fell—
three cold notifications echoed inside his mind.
[You used Cute One to predict all attacks from Death. Cute One +6.]
[You used Nightmare Prayer to deceive Death while it observed the world through Scarlett's senses. Nightmare Prayer +6.]
[You used Dream Marriage to blur reality and illusion, successfully dragging Death into your dream world. Dream Marriage +15.]
Lucien exhaled slowly.
Everything had finally connected.
The black mortician.
The rituals.
The omens.
The chosen survivor.
The reason Scarlett alone could foresee death.
From the very beginning—
Death had required an anchor.
An observer.
A pair of eyes inside reality.
Just like ancient possession rituals.
Gods and demons worshipped by humans could rarely interfere directly with the physical world.
They needed believers.
Mediums.
Vessels.
Without an anchor point, their influence remained weak and distant.
Like watching fish through glass.
You could disturb the water.
But you couldn't truly touch what was inside.
Unless—
you placed your hand into the tank.
Scarlett had been that hand.
The chosen survivor.
The one Death used to observe reality.
Its so-called "premonitions" were proof she had become linked to it.
And once she began trying to save people—
the ritual officially started.
The chosen survivor would continue escaping disaster while everyone around them died one by one.
Fear spread.
Stories spread.
Belief spread.
And with every carefully orchestrated death—
the entity grew stronger.
Lucien finally understood everything.
Which meant—
he also understood how to kill it.
The black mist churned violently as though sensing danger instinctively.
Lucien smiled faintly.
"You were having fun earlier, weren't you?"
"Now it's my turn."
The surrounding flames exploded upward.
The dream world trembled.
This was no longer reality.
This was Lucien's domain.
From the moment he closed his eyes in Scarlett's car—
the trap had already begun.
The bridge collapse.
The chain collision.
The burning highway.
The crashing airplane.
Everything Scarlett experienced—
had been woven into a dream by Lucien himself.
He used Nightmare Prayer to deceive Scarlett's senses.
Used Dream Marriage to merge illusion with reality.
And when Death followed Scarlett's perception into that fabricated world—
the cage closed.
Thunder techniques couldn't destroy it.
Talismans couldn't erase it.
A conceptual existence couldn't simply be burned away.
But dreams were different.
Inside dreams—
Lucien Blackwood ruled absolutely.
The black mist suddenly tried to disperse.
To dissolve into nothingness.
To escape through abstraction itself.
Lucien raised one hand calmly.
"No."
The air compressed instantly.
The surrounding fire twisted inward like a collapsing vortex.
Invisible pressure crushed the black entity from every direction.
The black mist writhed madly.
Buildings shook.
The dream itself trembled violently from resistance.
But Lucien's eyes remained cold.
"You fed on fear."
"You hid behind coincidence."
"You played god."
His fingers slowly clenched into a fist.
"Now die like everything else."
BOOM!!
The black mist exploded violently.
The sound echoed across the burning dreamscape like the collapse of an entire world.
For a brief second—
the endless feeling of oppression surrounding reality vanished completely.
Silence followed.
Complete silence.
Then Lucien lowered his hand calmly.
"The Grim Reaper is dead."
The words sounded almost casual.
As though he had merely finished some troublesome task.
The terrifying existence that hunted countless people through despair and coincidence—
had finally been destroyed.
But the next moment—
Lucien staggered violently.
Blood spilled uncontrollably from his mouth.
Pain exploded through his skull.
His breathing became unstable instantly.
The burden had been far greater than expected.
Replacing illusion with reality on this scale was insane even for him.
The endless highway accident.
The burning wreckage.
The collapsing plane.
The reactions of every person involved.
Recreating an entire chain disaster inside a dream while simultaneously dragging a conceptual entity into it—
the strain nearly tore apart his spirit completely.
If he hadn't already stepped into the Jade Purity Realm—
the final step would've been impossible.
Lucien pressed a hand against his forehead, breathing heavily.
"…Damn cultists…"
His voice sounded exhausted now.
"Believing in every weird thing they find…"
"Turning an evil spirit into some fake god…"
"If I run into another lunatic cult like this someday, I'm exterminating the whole thing."
Despite the curse, a smile slowly appeared on his face again.
Because new notifications suddenly rang inside his mind.
[Congratulations. You destroyed an evil spirit evolving toward godhood.]
[Its shattered essence has merged into your dream world.]
[Your dream domain has undergone a unique transformation.]
[You have obtained supernatural ability: You Go.]
[You have obtained supernatural ability: Swordsmanship.]
[You have obtained supernatural ability: Demon Slayer.]
Lucien's exhausted eyes immediately brightened.
Three rewards.
At once.
What an absurd harvest.
He wanted to examine the abilities immediately—
but another wave of dizziness struck him hard.
The burning dreamscape began collapsing.
The flames disappeared first.
Then the ruined highway.
Then the night sky itself.
Reality returned quietly.
Lucien slowly opened his eyes.
He was still sitting in the passenger seat of Scarlett's parked van.
Outside, traffic continued normally.
No burning wreckage.
No collapsing bridge.
No plane crash.
Everything that happened after he fell asleep—
had existed entirely inside the dream.
Beside the vehicle, Scarlett lay asleep against the car door outside, breathing softly.
Lucien stared at her silently for several seconds.
Even inside the dream—
when she believed death was inevitable—
she still tried to carry him to safety.
A faint smile appeared on his tired face.
"At least saving you wasn't a waste."
He pushed open the car door slowly and stepped outside.
His legs nearly gave out immediately from exhaustion.
Still, he managed to drag Scarlett carefully back into the driver's seat.
After making sure she was comfortable, Lucien returned to the passenger side and leaned back heavily.
Blood still stained the corner of his lips.
His head throbbed unbearably.
For the first time in a long while—
he felt truly exhausted.
Not physically.
Spiritually.
The kind of exhaustion that seeped into the bones.
Lucien closed his eyes slowly.
"After fighting this thing for so long…"
"I should finally get some sleep."
And this time—
he genuinely fell asleep.
Unfortunately for them—
this was still America.
And leaving a suspicious van parked near Hollywood while two unconscious young people slept inside naturally attracted attention very quickly.
Someone called the police claiming the vehicle was blocking traffic.
Twenty minutes later, two patrol officers arrived at the scene.
They knocked on the windows repeatedly.
No response.
One officer frowned.
"Are they dead?"
The other immediately forced the door open.
Inside, they found Scarlett collapsed against the steering wheel while Lucien sat motionless beside her.
The dried blood around Lucien's mouth instantly made the officers tense.
"Drug overdose?"
"Maybe."
The officers searched the vehicle carefully.
No drugs.
No weapons.
Nothing suspicious.
Just two exhausted young people sleeping so deeply they couldn't be woken up no matter what the officers tried.
One patrolman stared at Lucien speechlessly.
"…How tired do you have to be to sleep through this?"
The other sighed helplessly.
"Youth is amazing."
"They can fall asleep anywhere."