The Purifier

Truman seemed to be caught in a long, drawn-out dream.

The fairy-tale-like, beautiful, and illusory scenes kept him lingering, unwilling to wake.

Yet, at a certain moment, a sense of peace and tranquility washed over him, like the brilliant stars in that velvet night sky—eternal and serene.

Truman awoke, his gaze sharpening as he looked toward the source of that tranquil power: a hundred-meter-tall hill crowned with a complex of temples, a place the citizens of this city-state called the Deep Dark Citadel.

The surroundings of the Deep Dark Citadel were planted with countless Night Fragrance Herbs and Deep Sleep Flowers, all clustering around the towering statue at the very summit.

Truman set off alongside the other believers; it was deep night, the hour for the Deep Dark Believers to pray.

"Hah!" Truman took a deep breath amidst the Night Fragrance Herbs and Deep Sleep Flowers, the fresh, elegant floral scent invigorating his spirit. "The power of the Sleepless!"

This was the reason he had come here to pray to the Goddess!

"Misfortune be upon us!" Many believers prayed to the entity protecting this city-state within the tranquil atmosphere, and Truman was naturally no exception.

He sought out an inconspicuous corner, far from the others, and took out a Book of Dreams.

This was a mysterious book containing all beautiful dreams and all visions, colorful and magnificent beyond description.

Book of Dreams, implying that beautiful dreams come true.

This was the name Truman had given this Book of Dreams, and it was incredibly fitting.

Its existence allowed Truman to achieve a state of psychological and even fate-based concealment.

This was an item born with Truman, possessing dream-like abilities; just as he did now, Truman prayed in Giant Language.

"Higher than the starry sky, The Goddess of Night, more ancient than eternity, Mother of Concealment, Empress of Calamity and Fear, Lord of Sleep and Silence."

In this era, this three-part honorific would more likely point toward the Destruction Demon Wolf, who effectively held the authority of the night.

Yet, under the phosphorescent glow of the Book of Dreams, everything was distorted and channeled into the statue before him.

Truman ceased his prayer and waited for a moment. A boundless darkness descended, and he followed the pull of this power, closing his eyes.

In the eyes of the Deep Dark Believers, the statue of the Goddess seemed to change, becoming softer and more lifelike.

Truman vanished, like a faded sketch gently erased by a rubber, and when he reappeared, he stood before a majestic, rugged temple.

A figure descended from the depths of the darkness, as if arriving from the stars or the Red Moon.

She wore a supple, dark-colored robe adorned with countless brilliant specks, as if a segment of the starry sky had been cut and tailored into a garment.

Her face was hazy yet exceptionally beautiful, her eyes shining like stars in the night sky.

"You have finally arrived, The Purifier." The Goddess's voice carried a hint of a smile.

Truman sighed softly, "My condition is getting worse and worse."

It had been over a month since he had transmigrated into this era of warring Ancient Gods and rampant Mythical Creatures, arriving in this City of Darkness with the Book of Dreams.

The situation had been so treacherous that he had stood out like a sore thumb in this ancient city-state, and the Deep Dark Believers had nearly sent him to the stake.

And in this city-state controlled by the Goddess of Misfortune, his arrival had been locked in from the start.

If it weren't for the Book of Dreams, I reckon I would have been picked clean by you! Truman grumbled inwardly.

He did not know how long the Goddess had been here, and as an Angel who had descended—or perhaps even a Sequence 1 entity—even with the believers of the entire City of Darkness, she was bound to be somewhat mad; it was doubtful how much of her humanity remained.

Yet, for some purpose, the Goddess had even proactively revealed the fact of her own "transmigration," interacting with Truman as a fellow countryman, and now she was about to obtain what she wanted from him.

"And this title of 'The Purifier,' it really is..." Truman shook his head. The Goddess smiled without a word, waiting quietly, as if she were the embodiment of darkness and tranquility itself.

Perhaps because of the Book of Dreams, or perhaps because he had truly transmigrated from outside the universe, his body and soul were unimaginably clean and pure.

Even the potions he concocted based on recipes from his memory could not leave any trace on him; after drinking them, they would simply condense and manifest back out!

It was infuriating!

The only consolation was that while his body and spirit rejected the potions, they also warded off all the filth of the world's madness and indifferent essence.

This was what the Goddess needed.

"Have you found the reason for my lethargy?" Truman asked, getting to the point.

He had spent two-thirds of his time in the City of Darkness over the past month in his sleep!

Moreover, this state of lethargy was becoming increasingly terrifying, reaching the point where he could not wake up—it could be called an eternal sleep!

"I can only confirm it is related to the Book of Dreams." The Goddess's voice was soft and peaceful.

"The Book of Dreams, huh!" Truman nodded slightly. He had not yet fully explored this object, and it was deeply bound to him; no one else, including the Goddess, could even get close enough to pick it up, let alone flip through it for research.

"I agree to your terms. I will sign a contract with you, allowing you to use the Book of Dreams to stabilize your mental state," Truman said after a moment of silence, looking at the Goddess.

"Thank you!" the Goddess said with great solemnity, speaking in Chinese. As Truman had expected, the Goddess's mental state was also poor; her descent as an Angel had not caused her to lose herself entirely, but that madness and indifference had already seeped into her marrow.

"You're welcome. I also need your power as a Sleepless." Truman had come here to complete this transaction: he would help the Goddess stabilize her mental state, and in return, she would alleviate his lethargy, preventing him from falling into an eternal sleep.

Sleepless, a power that seemed unremarkable in the hands of the Goddess, had become the lifeline for Saint Truman today.

Saint Truman took out the Book of Dreams and gently flipped to a page.

"Could this be related to a dragon?" the Goddess suddenly asked.

Even She was not yet the Goddess of Night who would orchestrate plans for a millennium; Her grasp of specific mystical knowledge was perhaps not as thorough as Saint Truman's.

"The Dragon of Imagination?" With the dual insurance of concealment and the Book of Dreams, they naturally dared to mention this entity.

"No." Saint Truman slowly shook his head. The "dream come true" ability of the Book of Dreams was similar to the authority of the Dragon of Imagination, yet it was fundamentally different.

Saint Truman tapped the page, and in an instant, endless, bizarre, and kaleidoscopic rays of light surged forth, revealing what appeared to be bubble after bubble shimmering with dreamlike colors.

The spirituality of the Goddess transformed into points of light and fell upon the Book of Dreams.

In that moment, Saint Truman seemed to pierce through the veil of mist and see something. In his mind, the Goddess's face flashed by—cold to the extreme, inhuman, possessing only an ultimate indifference and madness, as if it would tear Saint Truman's body into shreds the very next instant.

One could imagine that no matter how calm and gentle Her previous words had been, they were spoken while in this state of madness.

This was also Saint Truman's first time facing the essential madness of this world. Suddenly, a wave of insanity surged over him as if to crush him; blood-red and black colors filled his vision, pulsing like writhing flesh, with twisted tentacles whipping through the air.

Yet, the Dream Phosphor flickered, and it seemed as if everything strange, grotesque, and even absurdly beautiful began to spread.

The two powers intertwined, but eventually, they settled into calm.

The essence of the madness had not changed, but it had quieted down within the dream, no longer restless.

As manifested in the Goddess, Her own madness and indifference began to recede and shift; She finally revealed a faint smile.

She displayed a form where starlight seemed to spill from Her pitch-black robes. From Her ribs and waist, two pairs of thick, coarse, dark-furred wolf legs extended. Holiness and eeriness, tranquility and wildness were perfectly fused together.

This was the true Goddess of Misfortune!

"I am not mad." The Goddess smiled, and the air seemed to grow more cheerful; points of starlight danced, resembling the tranquil night sky.

This time, Saint Truman could also perceive the existence of a human nature.

"This power of yours is truly remarkable," the Goddess said cautiously. If it were possible, She would have truly kept Saint Truman in captivity to make this power Her own.

Regrettably, the Book of Dreams was too bizarre; even She, who could be called the strongest beneath the Ancient Gods, could not even get close to it!

Furthermore, Saint Truman, holding the Book of Dreams, was enough to make the Goddess act with caution.

A badge appeared in the Goddess's hand. It had a deep black background adorned with brilliant specks, differing from the version Saint Truman was familiar with by only half a Crimson Moon.

"This is the Sleepless Divinity. By connecting with Me, you can also borrow My power." The Goddess handed it to Saint Truman.

Saint Truman's eyes lit up. He took the badge, and the moment it touched his hand, he felt a biting, cold spirituality surge into his body. Like a cold drink on a sweltering summer day, Saint Truman shuddered, feeling refreshed.

"The effect is excellent." Saint Truman was very satisfied; at the very least, he would not fall into an eternal, waking sleep.

"The transaction is complete." The Goddess nodded gently, Her mood also quite good.

Saint Truman was in high spirits as well. His fear of sleep was difficult to express to others; he had been terrified that once he fell asleep, he would sink completely into the beauty of those dreams. Now, that trouble had been resolved.

"...The honorific name from before?" the Goddess suddenly asked.

If one considered the titles of Empress and Goddess within it, the target of this honorific name was clearly Her!

Saint Truman closed the Book of Dreams, thought for a moment, then bowed slightly and chanted: "This is the honorific name I have composed for You."

"The Goddess of Night, who is more sublime than the starry sky, More eternal than eternity, Mother of Concealment, Empress of Calamity and Fear, Lord of Sleep and Silence."

"I am Your Pope, Saint Truman."

Ha! Persecuting the Goddess? This was truly a path never before imagined!

Watching this "fellow countryman" who claimed to be a Pope, and even recited an honorific name that allowed Her to feel a slight resonance, the Goddess found it hard to keep a straight face.

The two had met many times, and this transaction had built a certain degree of trust and friendship. Being teased like this by someone who could be called a friend was truly... peculiar.

The current Goddess of Night was at the time when Her humanity was most stable and abundant.

But the Goddess was, after all, the Goddess. Her expression did not change in the slightest; She merely nodded gently, giving Saint Truman a soft rebuff.

Saint Truman raised an eyebrow slightly. Now that the Shackles of Eternal Sleep were gone, he naturally had to stir up some trouble for fun.

He tapped his finger on the Book of Dreams in his hand, and it finally transformed into the Apocalypse of the Night, with a black background dotted with stars.

"...God said, let there be light..., God walked upon the waters..."