Chapter 78: The Silent Fortress and the Voluntary Dream
Sagami Province, the heartland of the Hojo clan.
Odawara Castle.
This was, without exception, the most formidable castle in the entire Kanto region. Since the reign of its first lord, Hojo Soun, three generations of the Hojo clan had poured their resources into its construction. Nestled between the mountains and the sea, it had been forged into an impregnable fortress.
Its towering stone walls rose in layered tiers. Its heavy castle gates were three feet thick. Its dense network of arrow towers promised a heavy price in blood from any would-be invader. In another time—or perhaps, in a future yet to come—the great Uesugi Kenshin, ruler of Echigo, would lead an army of one hundred thousand against it, only to sigh in helpless frustration at its base.
The title of Kanto's number one fortress was no empty boast. Compared to the Imagawa clan's main stronghold, this place was in another league entirely.
And yet…
Hikaru stood on a hillside just outside the castle, his gaze sweeping over the legendary fortress. Under the cold light of the moon, its silhouette was stark and clear. But a deep, unnatural stillness clung to it.
It was too quiet.
There were no patrolling soldiers, no flickering torches, not a single sign of human activity. The vast expanse of Odawara Castle lay before him like a gargantuan tomb.
"The Yao Qi here is thick," Hikaru murmured, his voice a low rumble. "Even thicker than at the Imagawa clan's territory." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "And it's not just Yao Qi."
He could see it now. The entire city was shrouded in a faint, golden mist. It shimmered under the moonlight, alive with tiny, drifting points of light, like a swarm of countless fireflies dancing in the night air.
But those were not fireflies.
They were scales.
Gakimaru's scales.
"It's already made its move," Yura of the Hair's voice echoed from his side, her tone hushed.
"Made its move?" Hikaru's mind caught up in an instant. "You mean… the people in the entire city?"
"They're all dreaming," Yura confirmed, her voice muffled and wary. "Every last one of them has been struck by its scales."
Thousands of people, all plunged into a deep, unnatural slumber. Their breathing was steady, their heartbeats normal, but their consciousness had been ensnared, trapped in another world.
Gakimaru's illusion.
"This thing is definitely more trouble than the Thunder Beast," Hikaru muttered, a frown creasing his brow.
Yura of the Hair had been right. The Thunder Beast, for all its strength, was a creature of direct assault. It hid underground and unleashed lightning; once forced into the open, it could be dealt with.
But Gakimaru was different. It was an existence that attacked the mind.
The Thunder Beast was a manifestation of raw lightning—fierce, fast, but ultimately traceable. Gakimaru, while it could also be classified as an elemental manifestation, was far more ethereal. It was a creature of the psyche. Its scales could invade human dreams, conjuring terror from the depths of the subconscious.
Hikaru strode toward the castle gate. The heavy wooden doors, which should have been barred and guarded, stood wide open. He walked straight through without meeting a soul.
The wide main street of the castle town stretched out before him, lined with neat houses and shops on either side. As the Hojo clan's seat of power, Odawara should have been bustling on any other day, a vibrant hub of commerce with merchants hawking their wares and crowds flowing like a river.
But now, every door was shut. Every window was dark.
Here and there, a person lay sprawled on the ground, motionless in the exact position they had fallen.
Hikaru crouched to examine one of them. He was a middle-aged man dressed in a merchant's robes, his face a mask of pure fear. Though his eyes were closed, his eyeballs darted frantically beneath their lids.
He was dreaming. And it was a nightmare.
More disturbingly, fresh wounds were beginning to appear on his body, spreading across his skin as if manifesting from nothing. It seemed the horrors of his nightmare were being reflected in reality.
"The situation here is far more severe than on the Imagawa's side," Hikaru observed, rising to his feet.
The Imagawa clan had only been harassed by the Thunder Beast for three days, suffering a few dozen casualties. The panic had been far greater than the actual damage. But here, with the Hojo, an entire city had been swallowed by an illusion. If they weren't saved in time, these people would die, one by one, lost in their own nightmares.
The resentment born from their deaths would accumulate, and Gakimaru would grow stronger and stronger. A vicious, self-perpetuating cycle.
Hikaru continued forward, his blood mist spreading out from his body, a silent, crimson tide seeking to perceive the entire city.
Where was Gakimaru?
He didn't know. The damned moth was hidden too well. It must have already sensed the death of the Thunder Beast—the thunder horn was still strapped to his back, and the artifact radiated a potent aura of lightning that any yokai with a connection to its former owner could detect.
So, it had concealed itself. It was most likely hiding within the very illusion it had woven from its scale powder, refusing to show its face, refusing to appear.
Yura's voice held no surprise; she had already predicted as much. "It has hidden itself within the illusion," she added. "That's why it's so difficult to find."
Hikaru's frown deepened. This was a problem. Unlike the Thunder Beast, which had a fixed nest, Gakimaru was an entity that had merged with its own illusion. As long as the dreamscape remained, it was everywhere and nowhere at once, leaving no trace.
However…
"It's not as if there's no way at all." Hikaru looked up, his gaze fixed on the golden mist permeating the air.
Yura was taken aback. "The entire city and everyone's nightmares are its domain. Trying to find its true form in there is like searching for a needle in the ocean. You really think you can find it?"
Hikaru didn't answer immediately. He had stopped, standing before a tall, imposing structure. It was the main keep of Odawara Castle, the Tenshukaku—the residence of the successive heads of the Hojo clan.
"A head-on search is impossible, naturally," he said, raising a hand. More blood mist began to seep from beneath his skin, spreading out in all directions. "I need to change my approach."
Yura sounded startled. "What are you doing?"
"I'm going to enter the dreams." Hikaru's voice was unnervingly calm.
"Are you insane?" Yura's voice was sharp with disbelief. "You can enter dreams? Besides, that's Gakimaru's illusion! If you enter voluntarily, you're just courting death!"
"Who said I was going to enter its illusion?" A faint, eerie smile touched Hikaru's lips in the moonlight. "What I'm going to enter… are the dreams of every single person in this city."
The blood mist began to spread at an accelerated rate. Starting from the Tenshukaku, it billowed outwards, blanketing the streets, flowing through the walls of houses, and enveloping every sleeping person it touched. The crimson tendrils seeped into their skin, merged with their auras, and established a connection with their dreams.
Gakimaru's scale powder was a vast net, trapping everyone in a sea of nightmares.
And Hikaru's blood mist was another net. A net designed to erode the first.
Resonance through blood.
His mist was also his 'eye'. Ultimately, dreams were nothing more than the neural activity of the brain—the conduction and transmission of electrical signals. Though this world was filled with monsters and demons, some principles, like the existence of elemental counters, remained universal. Therefore, as long as he invaded with his blood and made contact with those 'signals,'he could indeed enter their dreams. He could'see'and'feel' what they did.
The compulsory education Hikaru had received in his past life, it seemed, had not been entirely in vain.
"You…" Yura's voice was trembling now. "You intend to use that blood mist of yours to enter their dreams?"
"Something like that," Hikaru replied, closing his eyes.
His consciousness began to disperse. A fraction of it remained anchored in reality, standing vigil in the silent castle. The greater part, however, followed the tendrils of blood mist, plunging into the dreams of countless people.
And then, he succeeded. He saw.
Nightmares. Countless nightmares.
Some were being engulfed by roaring flames. Some were being chased by grotesque monsters. Some were forced to watch as their loved ones died, one by one, before their helpless eyes.
Every dream was saturated with fear. And every drop of that fear was being harvested by Gakimaru, converted into the potent fuel of resentment.
"What a voracious appetite," Hikaru's consciousness murmured. "An entire city's worth of people, all having nightmares at the same time… Is this thing trying to gorge itself into a new form in one go?"
His awareness wove through the mix of terror, searching for a specific presence.
Not Gakimaru.
He was searching for the master of this city. The head of the Hojo clan.
If he was going to do something within this dreamscape, starting from scratch was too slow. It was far more efficient to find the most central figure, the core of this collective consciousness.
And then—he would give everyone in this city a reason to wake up.
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