Dole took one look at Old Black's crazed expression and knew that Nightmare was beyond reason now—there was hardly any way to communicate with him.
He merely shrugged. "Nightmare Patriarch, then come at me. I'd like to know what the consequences will be once others discover your true body."
Old Black's face darkened. Just as he was about to speak, Dole tore open a rift and vanished once more.
His expression grew even gloomier. Why was this damned young man so difficult to deal with? How could he understand dreams, coming and going freely within other people's dreams? Only he himself should have been capable of that!
Old Black was itching to kill Dole, yet he had no way to do so unless his true body moved—or unless he controlled an eighth-level Magic Beast.
Some of his avatars had inexplicably perished before. Looking at it now, it had most likely been Dole's doing.
To invade an eighth-level Magic Beast would take several years at the very least. Just like Old Black now—even if he simply lay flat and did nothing, there was still no way for Dole to seize all his memories and obtain his spiritual power in a short time.
From the looks of it, the other side's understanding of dreams seemed roughly equal to his own. He was now almost certain that Dole had obtained his Nightmare Meditation Method.
That damned human.
Without realizing it, Nightmare Patriarch had already ceased to see himself as human. Instead, he regarded himself as a god. He believed Dole had stolen his authority.
Nightmare Patriarch also knew that his true body could not possibly act unless he reached level nine. And even after reaching level nine, he might not necessarily be able to move—the continent had too many level nines. Unless he