I heard the Monarch of Ears' voice again, but not in a dream. Compared with the mild, gentle voice from the dream, his voice in the real world was filled with fervor, resolve, and courage, like an orator explaining profound philosophy to ignorant commoners in public, or a consul rallying troops at the front.
The timestamp projected in the upper-right corner showed that walking through that long memory and digesting the knowledge within it had taken only a millisecond in the real world. Yet to me, the subjective time spent understanding those memories had been nearly ten years. The Praetorian Guard was more than a weapon of destruction. The power we possessed was a tool for safeguarding the coming new age. The Monarch had given each of us knowledge beyond warfare. He had personally taught us philosophy, theology, mathematics, art, politics, science, occultism, and countless other subjects, turning us into his comrades, advisers, and craftsmen. Some of it was knowledge already known to the world, while some was the most obscure of mysteries. It allowed us to understand what he said and the meaning hidden within his words. Even the briefest phrase was laden with deeper significance.
Even so, the memories bestowed by the Monarch remained difficult to comprehend, and I had failed to fully understand all that knowledge.
What left the deepest impression on me were the omnipresent evil things in the dream: those malformed, grotesque energy entities from the Outer Dimensions. Their madness and evil seeped into my bones, sending chills down my spine. They spared no effort in tempting me, killing me, cursing me, praising me, trying to make me join them. The malice displayed by those energy entities far surpassed that of the creatures from the Material Plane they had corrupted. I heard them speak my