Illusory Dreams
(Frieren's Illusion)
The room was comfortable, the bedding warm, and the faint chirping of birds could be heard outside the window. Frieren opened her eyes, her bright green pupils clear and bright, without any trace of the grogginess of just waking up. She turned her head slightly to look at the person beside her— Lowell was sleeping soundly, breathing steadily, his dark hair slightly disheveled on the pillow, looking completely unguarded.
Frieren's fingertips twitched almost imperceptibly, and a faint ripple of magic Swirl out from her, like a pebble thrown into a calm lake. The next moment, she frowned slightly.
"An illusion?" she murmured to herself, her voice flat and even, as if stating an objective fact. "The magical feedback is unnatural... It's exquisitely constructed, but there's a subtle distortion in the underlying rules. Is it the type that reflects inner desires?"
She sat up, her long silver hair spread out on the pillow. She looked around at the cozy scene of this "home," her gaze sweeping over the magic book spread out on the table, the various "useless" but interesting trinkets piled up in the corner that Lowell had brought back for her from who-knows-where, and finally settling on Lowell's sleeping face beside her.
"It seems so." She concluded, her emerald eyes showing no indulgence, only absolute calm.
"Forcibly breaking through external barriers is unlikely to work, so the key is to shatter the 'desire' itself."
She raised her hand, and magic began to gather at her fingertips. The light was not dazzling, but it carried a restrained yet destructive power capable of dismantling structures, which she aimed at the "warm" illusion before her. To her, no matter how beautiful the illusion was, it was just a false obstacle that needed to be cleared away.
However, just before the magic was about to burst forth—
A warm hand gently grasped her wrist, the movement tender yet carrying an undeniable strength, interrupting the gathering of her magic.
"Frieren," a familiar voice rang out, sending a shiver down her spine, tinged with concern and doubt, "What are you doing?"
Frieren's body stiffened almost imperceptibly. She slowly turned her head to look at the source of the sound.
Standing beside the bed was a woman dressed in plain clothes, with a gentle yet resilient demeanor. She had long, flowing brown hair, and her wise and tender eyes were gazing at her with a mixture of confusion and worry. It was none other than Flamme, who should have been long gone.
(Lupa's Illusion)
"Father! Mother! I'm back!"
The village remained the most beautiful image in her memory, with wisps of smoke rising from chimneys and the sun shining brightly. Like a little bird returning to its nest, Lupa rushed towards her parents, who stood at the door with kind smiles. She buried her head in her mother's arms, nuzzling against her, then looked up at her father's broad hands, her heterochromatic eyes glistening with tears, but those tears were from immense joy.
"I killed the demon Qual who destroyed the village!" Lupa's voice trembled with tears, yet was filled with a relieved pride. "Thank goodness... everyone's alright... thank goodness!"
Her father gently patted her head with his rough, large hands, while her mother tenderly patted her back, her voice filled with heartache and relief. "Good, good... it's good that you're back. Our Lupa is the best; she managed to take down such a terrible demon all by herself..."
"It wasn't just me!" Lupa lifted her head from her parents' arms, her face beaming with happiness. She turned and pointed behind her, "Look! It's Master Lowell, Lady Frieren, and Linié! They all helped me so much! They taught me so many things! Lupa is really amazing now! A great warrior!"
In the illusion, "Lowell" smiled gently and nodded to her. "Frieren" stood quietly to the side, her emerald eyes calm and unwavering. "Linié" remained expressionless.
The mother smiled and wiped away the tears from the corners of her eyes, "Really? Then we really have to thank all the adults for taking care of our naughty little devil."
The father also cast a grateful glance at Lowell and the others. "My daughter is so grateful for your kindness. Come on, don't stand outside, come inside and sit down. Wife, quickly go and get the good wine hidden in the cellar!"
The warmth of home, the love of her parents, the relief of seeing her enemy vanquished—everything was perfect beyond belief. Lupa, embraced by her parents, walked towards the door of her home, illuminated by warm lights, her heterochromatic eyes filled with immense happiness.
(Lowell's Illusion)
"... Look around us! Look at this land! We are surrounded by powerful enemies, ready to carve us up; we are oppressed from within, and our people are suffering! Imperialism, feudalism, and bureaucratic capitalism—these three mountains weigh heavily on the heads of each and every one of us! They weigh us down, making it hard for us to breathe, leaving our country impoverished and weak, and forcing our compatriots to live like cattle and horses!"
He swung his arm down forcefully, as if to cleave through the deep darkness:
"But comrades! Do not be afraid! This road is difficult, extremely difficult! We may bleed, we may sacrifice, we may not see tomorrow's sun! But so what?! Because we have found the road! Marxism-Leninism tells us where history is headed! The victory of the Bolsheviks tells us how powerful the workers and peasants are!"
His gaze swept across every face in the audience, his voice carrying an unwavering conviction:
"A single spark can start a prairie fire! Every shout and every struggle we make today, no matter how small, is a spark that ignites a prairie fire! One day, this fire will spread throughout the entire China, forging a brand New China where the people are the masters!"
The crowd below the stage erupted in a suppressed yet enthusiastic response, their eyes blazing with passion.
At that moment, another man wearing glasses, with a gentle and teacher-like demeanor, turned around, patted Lowell on the shoulder, his eyes filled with trust and entrustment, his tone mild yet heavy as a mountain:
"Comrade Xiao Luo, the road ahead is long, and the struggle will be complex and brutal. Your insight and abilities are invaluable assets urgently needed by the revolution. You must remain steadfast in your faith and stand with the broad masses of workers and peasants. The hope of this ancient land and its future development depend on you young people..."
"Young comrade..." Another general with a bold and imposing demeanor beside him also cast an encouraging glance.
His eyes glazed over for a moment, and the magic gathered at his fingertips trembled slightly, almost dissipating. The dizziness emanating from the depths of his soul intensified, and his judgment continued to weaken.
"Tsk... this illusion really knows how to target the softest spot in people's hearts..." he muttered to himself, trying to dispel the momentary wavering with self-deprecation.
"Dare to change the world, that's too grandiose, too much about shouldering hope... I'm just a guy who hates trouble and only wants to live a peaceful life with the people in front of me..."
He closed his eyes, and magic once again gathered at his fingertips, but the light seemed dimmer and more hesitant than before.