Tarthocas: Chronicles of the Transmigrating Scribe Chapter 66: Caecitas Mortis [3]

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Wilhelm now sat in his dorm. It was not quite large but not quite small either—just the right size. The bed was equal to his height, and the washroom had both hot and cold water. A clock ticked nearby, along with a table and chair, and beside the door, a tablet attached to the wall allowed him to select his destination within the academy. A piece of paper on the table had already been read by Wilhelm. It essentially stated that classes would commence tomorrow, as he could infer from the clock. Now, as he sat on the bed, he couldn't help but let out a sigh. A lot had happened today, and to say that Wilhelm wasn't affected would be wrong. He was still reeling from the shock of his experiences, yet his curiosity urged him to think more—just a bit more. Wilhelm knew why his curiosity was piqued: the dream. The person in the frost world had spoken to him, had seen him. How could he not think about that? What had first seemed like nothing more than an odd imagination now felt cohesive, significant—like it held some deeper meaning. He had to know more. "The best way for me to know is to sleep." With this, Wilhelm lay down and shut his eyes. This time, the person had sensed him, and recognized him. It wouldn't be surprising if tonight's dream turned out to be different. Wilhelm soon drifted off, his body grew cold, his breathing becoming significantly weaker. Unbeknownst to him, there was another visitor in the room. "Let us see whether this gift can help you." Karsus's chuckle echoed softly. Meanwhile, Wilhelm found himself once again in the dream of the frost world. The figure he'd seen before, with a bare back and a symbol—a circle—etched upon it, stood in front of him. The symbol appeared clearer than in previous dreams. But this time, there were no corpses—only the endless tundra and the person. The figure seemed aware of Wilhelm's presence. Turning, his blonde hair stark against the icy realm, he fixed Wilhelm with a knowing gaze. "So, it's you," the man spoke as he eyed Wilhelm. "Who are you?" Wilhelm wanted to ask, yet the moment he tried to open his mouth, he found he couldn't. "You want to talk? We'll talk, but first, a change of environment." The man spoke calmly, snapping his fingers. Instantly, the great tundra faded, giving way to a throne room formed out of the frost, with two seats in the center. "Yes, now let's talk," the man spoke, looking directly at Wilhelm. Wilhelm nodded as he sat down alongside the man. "Who are you, where am I, and why is this happening to me?" Wilhelm immediately blurted out three questions. The man was silent for a few moments before he answered with a sigh. "The answers to your questions are as follows. I am a dead man whose remnants are sealed inside your mind. You are inside your own mind, and I have no idea why you, in particular, have been used to trap me." Hearing this, Wilhelm only grew more puzzled. "You're dead? So... you're a ghost?" Wilhelm asked. "You could say so. The original me died a very long time ago and has been reincarnated countless times since. What I am is just a wisp of the original, you could say, a shard. My original identity has without a doubt been erased by The Sovereign." The man sighed. Hearing the mention of the Sovereign, Wilhelm was stunned. Everyone in Paradise had been taught about The Sovereign's identity: The Demon King, The Original Sin, Master of Chaos, Nightmare King, and Almighty Terror were just a few of the titles the folks back in Wilhelm's hometown, called The Sovereign by. The story of The Sovereign said that once, when God lived among mortals and all was prosperous, The Sovereign rose from the depths of hell and waged a long war against God and 'His' followers. In the end, God banished The Demon King to a prison that forever shielded mortals from harm. Occasionally, The Demon King would send his Generals into Paradise to destroy it, and God's greatest warriors, The Saints, would be there to stop that. As if the man could hear what Wilhelm was