Reality, Illusion, or Dream?

"Are you insane?!"

Morse's tone carried a hint of fear for the first time. He hovered before his descendant, his hollow eye sockets filled with a startled, orange-red glow.

He had instructed Kas beforehand that when facing the cold Lady of Death, the only choice was to pray that she would be moved by the determination of the Blackheart daughter.

Yet this... was this a prayer, or a threat?

Kas remained silent, merely lifting the bunch of grapes in his hand higher. He had to obtain an explanation from the lips of the Lady of Death.

Was Tina's act of plunging the dagger into her throat without hesitation born from the agony in her heart, or was it the will of the gods?

A raven let out a shrill cry, flapping its wings to warn the mortal who lacked reverence; those who dared to offend the Lady of Death would end up as nothing more than severed heads hanging from the cliff face.

Time ticked by, and as no anomaly occurred, Kas seemed to give up and lowered his hand. This made Morse heave a sigh of relief, preparing to urge his descendant to leave before the Lady of Death grew angry.

But Kas always did the unexpected. He drew the battle-axe from his back and walked toward the towering cliff.

Using the axe blade as a climbing pick, hewed into the rock, he climbed toward the raven's perch with his left hand clutching the sacrificial grapes, using both hands and feet.

He took one step and saw a girl weeping in the wind and sand, her despairing appearance nothing like that of someone who wished to abandon life.

The second step, the girl was running desperately; the rose symbolizing her life was blown away by the wind and sand, swept into the eternal, silent darkness.

The third step, the girl walked under a dim sky, holding a wine flask and bread, kneeling before Iron Peak Mountain, whispering prayers to the Lady of Death.

He saw a dream...

The fourth step, he reached the summit, grabbed the raven that had let out the hoarse cry, and stared fixedly into those eyes that were bewitchingly cold and lonely in the darkness.

Hallucinations gradually took hold, just like consuming the Hallucinogenic Mushroom of the Gods.

Death clung to his throat like a mire; thorny brambles bloomed into purple-black roses, emitting a silent fragrance. The woman wrapped in black veils laughed with a voice that was merciful yet cruel from beneath her shroud.

Lady of Death...

Poisonous thorns surged from the mountain, coiling like pythons to pierce Kas's skin, injecting a toxin called death into his body, yet he still spoke with resolve:

"Were their actions truly born of your will, or..."

"You know the answer well, Kas, son of Malik Axe-Breaker."

The voice of the Lady of Death, Lagrey, was illusory yet exceptionally real, much like death itself—seemingly distant, yet always closest to life.

She strolled forward, her black-veiled palm gently stroking Kas's face, which had turned purple-black from the toxin:

"Whether she heard my will or it was merely her own fantasy, it matters not... To the Rishiman People, honor, dreams, and divine oracles are one and the same."

"No, that is absolutely different," Kas replied firmly.

From the perspective of postmodern deconstructionism, a sense of honor was just a piece of junk invented by governments to make armies fight for free; people deconstructed and criticized everything valued by traditionalism.

But in the Sorrow Mountains, the components of honor were incredibly complex. Cultural traditions and social perceptions of their actions, the attention of spirits and souls, and even whether one would go to the Vagha Hall or Lagrey's Underworld after death—or the worst outcome, wandering the mortal realm in eternal torment—all of these were part of honor.

The concept of dreams was even stranger. The Rishiman People believed that dreams were events occurring in another world. They would often describe "seeing" a dream the night before, rather than "having" one, even if the protagonist in the dream was themselves.

But what puzzled Kas most about Tina's suicide was the religious concept of honor killing embedded within the act of retaliatory vengeance. He had not seen a shred of struggle or hesitation in Tina's eyes.

To have struggle in one's eyes meant she was weighing the value of her life against her sense of honor.

To have hesitation meant that even though she saw the dream, she still knew she was in reality.

She had none of these. Her resolute, liberated appearance suggested she knew the outcome of an honor killing—suicide.

Everyone in the Black Ember Tribe knew she was going to perform an honor killing, yet he had known nothing of it. There must have been some force manipulating the collective consciousness of the crowd.

The only conclusion Kas could draw was that the Lady of Death had controlled Tina's mind, orchestrating this honor killing to please herself. Only these strange gods would find amusement in toying with the fates of mortals.

"Are you doubting Tina's honor, or the dreams she saw?" The Lady of Death stood calmly before Kas, her face covered by the black veil possessing a charm that looked straight into the soul.

Her slender arm swept forward, revealing the moment the butcher knife had been thrust into Kas's back—the struggle, the hesitation, the pain in Tina's eyes... the only thing missing was the decisiveness he had anticipated.

The Lady of Death tilted her chin slightly, her deathly gaze meeting his cold, deep eyes:

"Or perhaps... what you saw was also a dream?"

"How can I be certain that all of this isn't your..." Kas had intended to refute that this was merely a hallucination, but as the thought surfaced in his mind, his pupils contracted violently as if struck by an earthquake.

Honor triggered fantasies, fantasies birthed dreams, and everything seen in a dream was a prophecy revealing the truth. In the madness granted by prophecy, one seemed to touch the edge of the divine, and in doing so, felt a sense of sublimity in being one with the gods.

"It seems you understand, Kas, son of Malik Axe-Breaker. Tina's death was not what I desired. She believed she would die and suffer eternal torment alongside her father, Xipel Blackheart.

This stemmed from the honor she believed in, the dream she believed in, the oracle she believed in..."

Damn it, these savages are even more idealistic and stubborn than a mastermind like me; I at least need a logically sound inspiration to complete a plan.

They get a sudden flash of insight and can commit suicide without a second thought?

He found a loophole in the Lady of Death's statement:

"Assuming this has nothing to do with you and is entirely Tina's expectation, why is it that in the Black Ember Tribe, only I, Seneya, and Isidore were unaware that Tina was performing an honor killing?"

"Because you do not believe that honor killing brings honor." The Lady of Death reached out to lift Kas's chin, her icy breath permeating his cheeks:

"I appeared before you, and you were convinced that my messenger had made contact with you, allowing you to communicate directly with a deity.

But you must know, to us, dreams and divine oracles are the same thing..."

"And how would you discern whether this exchange was a dream or a divine oracle?"

Kas's ice-blue eyes felt as if they had been struck by a heavy hammer, and he snapped them open.

He found himself lying on the familiar bed in the White House, the stifling sensation of burning charcoal hanging beneath the ceiling, while a pair of large, rosy eyes curiously examined him as he suddenly awoke.

He rubbed his brows and eyes vigorously, only to find his eighteen years of life experience in the Sorrow Mountains feeling strangely alien.

Was the conversation he just had with the Lady of Death a hallucination triggered by bringing offerings to Iron Peak Mountain to confront the Raven Messenger, or was it a dream born from the guilt he felt over the death of Blackheart's daughter, a manifestation of his own moral conscience?

These cursed Reshman traditions were becoming increasingly impossible for someone with a modern mindset to comprehend.

Was this even something that could be deduced through logic and common sense?

He stared at Senete, who was tinkering with the battle-axe "Luna" by the bedside, and suddenly said, "Miss Seneya, slap me."

Seneya tilted her head in confusion, extending her palm with a puzzled look: "Wu~"

"Yes, yes, hit me hard right on the face."

"X﹏X"

Seneya aimed at Kas, but seeing the firm look in his eyes, she hesitated several times.

Her chubby palm blurred into a phantom image before her, striking him hard across the face.

With a red, swollen cheek and an impact that felt nearly as if he had been struck by a heavy hammer, Kas gave Seneya a thumbs-up, enduring the buzzing noise in his skull as he managed to choke out a single sentence.

"Strong and powerful."