I had another dream.
A very, very cool dream.
A vast stage across Europe, a massive plan by hostile forces, enemies emerging from the shadows, companions steadily increasing in number—London, Paris. Cities linked one after another, operations unfolding one after another,
Crises where I was rescued by support several times, help received from all kinds of people, key items that broke the deadlock, and a rush toward the final destination,
Then, in the darkness, I suddenly realized that everything was connected, and the ultimate crisis revealed its true form.
A miracle happened in a mine shaft where all hope had already been lost, gathering everyone's strength to defeat the darkness.
It was like the classic adventure I had always most eagerly imagined and longed for—tense, thrilling, unrestrained, yet never without laughter. Just as my young heart was completely captivated,
In that dream,
I dreamed of someone very, very cool.
He wore a long black night-tech coat of Augustine, its burning hems spreading and rising as they extinguished every golden rune. His tall figure held a pale moon-white bow blade, and the Golden Eyes in his right eye opened amid the boiling darkness of his black pupils.
He wasn't afraid of bad guys, nor was he afraid of the dark. He had the power to protect himself, and the power to protect others.
He leaped from a car roof amid a high-speed chase and gunfight in London, stormed a gangster manor alone, destroyed an Evil Cult stronghold, jumped from the Eiffel Tower at an upper-class ball, then drove out of Paris with flying confidence.
During the relentless rush through that ancient city of Rome, he charged into warehouses, underground passages, casinos, and manors, purging the villains who would have frightened me in reality.
Then, at the very end, he inserted the