The Nightmare Hydra isn't conquering the Emerald Dream Plane; it's digesting it. Just as the Astral Realm digests the unknown planes dragged into its gravitational pull, the Nightmare Hydra is turning the Emerald Dream Plane into its sustenance. The Emerald Guard ' resistance merely slows down the digestion process, but cannot stop the outcome.
But Aierwen did not give up.
"Pass down the order: activate the final contingency plan!" His voice was calm yet firm. "Awaken all the slumbering beings, detonate their dream crystals! Use the dreams of every living being in this entire plane to create a primal shock!"
The guard captain's eyes widened. "Sir, if that happens, all living beings will—"
"I know."
Aierwen interrupted his captain, turning to look at the Emerald Falls behind him. The falls were still flowing, but the seven-colored water had been eroded by the dark purple, leaving only a faint shimmer, like a lamp about to go out.
"Rather than being consumed by the Nightmares and becoming nourishment for its power, let's end this dream ourselves." A bitter smile appeared on Aierwen's lips. "At least, we can choose how we die."
The order was relayed.
Throughout the entire Emerald Dream Plane, hundreds of millions of beings received their final command while they slumbered. They did not hesitate, nor did they fear, for under the corrosive influence of the Nightmares Mist, their dreams had already begun to distort, and countless people had struggled in nightmares for three days and three nights. Rather than rotting in an Eternity nightmare, they chose to dissipate in a dazzling explosion.
Crystals of dreams emerged from the sleeper's body, like countless fireflies, converging into a river of light that surged towards the Emerald Falls. The waterfall's light suddenly intensified, with emerald green, golden yellow, azure blue, and crimson—all colors of light intertwining to form a rapidly expanding, seven-colored sun.
Aierwen stood atop the waterfall, raising his emerald spear high, pouring all his power into the sun. His body began to glow, radiating light from within, as if he himself had become a crystallized dream.
"The Emerald Dream Plane, forever existing in fantasy."
He whispered the final prayer of the plane.
Then, the seven-colored sun exploded.
A beam of light shot into the sky, tearing a huge gap in the Nightmares Fog Wall. The beam pierced through the dimensional barrier and rushed into the Void of the Fantasy Dimension, flying towards the Fantasy Hall like an arrow burning with seven-colored flames.
This was Aierwen's final mission—not to defeat the Nightmares, but to issue a warning to the Fantasy Hall.
Let the Lord of No Void know that the Nightmares has arrived.
After the pillar of light dissipated, only emptiness remained in the Emerald Dream Plane.
There were no mountains, no rivers, no Emerald Falls, no Emerald Guard. Only a dark purple Nightmares Mist slowly swirled, like a giant beast that had just had a hearty meal, letting out a satisfied burp.
One of the Nightmare Hydra's heads tilted slightly, as if savoring the taste of its "meal."
"It tastes good."
A slit slowly opened at the corner of the head's mouth, revealing a satisfied smile.
Gazing at the Nightmare Hydra, and observing its devouring behavior of the outer universe within the Fantasy Dimension, the Lord of Time's eyes flickered slightly, a hint of unease stirring within him, but he ultimately suppressed it.
The Fantasy Dimension, one of the three dimensions of the Astral Realm, is certainly important to Him, but the problem is that firstly, the Lord of Time does not have a foundation there, and secondly, it is only one step away from the Second-Step Eternity, lacking the power of Matter System rather than World System.
Moreover, the Lord of Time now knows the Mother of the Stars ' plan to devour the entire Astral Realm.
Although the Mother of the Stars didn't explicitly say so, based on various sources, the Lord of Time could guess it; He's not stupid.
In this situation, ownership of all three dimensions is essentially prey for the Mother of the Stars. Once this was understood, the Lord of Time looked at the Nightmare Hydra with a hint of pity in his eyes.
Nightmare Hydra doesn't understand that everything it's doing is paving the way for the behemoth behind the scenes.
Fantasy Dimension, Fifth Ring Domain, Thousand Swords Plane.
If the Emerald Dream Plane was a tragedy of being silently swallowed up, then the Thousand Swords Plane was an Epic of Destruction.
The Thousand Swords Plane, also known as the Sword Domain, is Fantasy Dimension renowned for its martial arts. The beings here believe in the supremacy of the sword, and every powerful individual dedicates their life to cultivating sword intent. Their swords are not merely weapons, but extensions of their souls and embodiments of their will. The strongest in the Thousand Swords Plane are called "Sword Masters," the guardians of the plane and the spiritual leaders of all swordsmen.
The Nightmares Mist appeared in the Thousand Swords Plane during the Sword Domain's once-in-a-century "Ten Thousand Swords Assembly".
The Ten Thousand Swords Assembly is the grandest celebration in the Thousand Swords Plane, where swordsmen from all over the plane gather at the Central Sword Plain to hone their swordsmanship and compete for the glory of "Sword Master". This year's Ten Thousand Swords Assembly is particularly grand because the old Sword Master is about to step down, and the new Sword Master will be selected on the last day of the tournament.
However, the Nightmares Mist did not give them the opportunity to choose a new sword master.
As the dark purple wall of mist surged in from the horizon, the tens of thousands of swordsmen on the Central Sword Plain were first bewildered, then shocked, and finally enraged. They drew their swords, their blades flashing like a forest, gleaming coldly in the sunlight. No one fled, for the swordsmen of the Thousand Swords Plane never fled—a sword can break, can shatter, but it will never bend.
"Everyone!"
An aged yet powerful voice echoed across the Sword Plains. The old sword master stood in mid-air, his white hair as white as snow, his white robes fluttering in the wind. In his hand he held an ancient longsword, its blade as clear as ice, its tip trembling slightly and emitting a clear sword sound.
"Today, foreign enemies have invaded, and the Sword Domain is in imminent danger." The old sword master's voice was not loud, but it clearly reached the ears of every swordsman. "I don't know where this fog came from, nor do I care. I only know that here are swords, swordsmen, and the sword path we have protected for ten thousand years."
He slowly raised his longsword, the tip pointing at the Nightmares Fog Wall.
"As long as the sword remains, so does the man; if the sword dies, so does the man!"
"As long as the sword remains, so shall I be! If the sword falls, so shall I be!"
Tens of thousands of swordsmen shouted in unison, their voices shaking the heavens. They formed a sword formation, their sword lights intertwined, unfolding a magnificent sword scroll on the Central Sword Plain. Each sword light was a line, and countless lines intertwined to form a huge sword net, keeping the Nightmares mist wall outside the sword plain.
But the Nightmares Mist is no ordinary enemy.
It has no physical form, no vital points, bleeds, and never tires. The swordsmen's swords can sever the bodies of Nightmares Beasts, but they cannot stop the Mist from seeping in. Dark purple mist seeps in through the gaps in the sword net, like a thousand venomous snakes, silently coiling around the swordsmen's bodies.
The swordsmen touched by the mist first had unfocused eyes, then their expressions contorted, and finally they let out heart-wrenching screams. They saw their deepest fears—some the humiliation of defeat, some the betrayal of their lovers, some the despair of having their swordsmanship denied. These nightmares exploded in their minds, overlapping with reality, making it impossible for them to distinguish between dream and reality.
Some began swinging their swords at their comrades, for what they saw was not a comrade, but an enemy from their nightmares.
Some people knelt on the ground, burying their faces in their hands and weeping bitterly, their swords slipping from their grasp.
Some people rushed madly towards the wall of fog, disappeared into the Mist, and never returned.
The sword formation is collapsing.
"Hold on! Hold on!" the old sword master shouted, his sword sweeping across and killing dozens of Nightmares Beasts that rushed in during the chaos. But even he could not stop the encroachment of the Mist, because the Nightmares Mist attacked not the body, but the spirit—and the spirit is precisely what swordsmen rely on most.
The essence of Kendo is that the mind triumphs over physical strength.
A swordsman's strength lies not in how powerful his muscles are or how exquisite his swordsmanship is, but in how firm his will is and how pure his sword heart is. But the Nightmares Mist attacks precisely the will and the sword heart, causing swordsmen to question their own way of the sword, doubt their own beliefs, and sowing seeds of fear and hesitation deep within their hearts.
When a swordsman begins to hesitate, his sword loses its sharpness.
"The Sword Master is here!"
A clear whistle pierced the sky, and a lithe figure soared into the air from the east side of Sword Plains. It was a young swordsman with a resolute face and piercing eyes, wielding a crimson longsword. He was the most promising candidate to win the Sword Champion title in this year's Ten Thousand Swords Assembly — the Lieyan Heaven-Burning Sword.
Lieyan did not choose to defend.
He chose to charge.
The crimson sword light, like a burning meteor, crashed into the Nightmares fog wall. Wherever the sword light passed, the Nightmares fog hissed and burned, and countless Nightmares Beasts turned to Ashes in the sword light. The Lieyan surged left and right in the fog wall, like an angry fire dragon, tearing open the Nightmares Mist with one crack after another.
"What a fine sword!" The old swordsman's eyes flashed with a sharp light, and he also swung his sword and charged into the wall of mist.
An old man and a young boy, one white-clad and one red-clad, their sword lights intertwined and swirled in the Nightmares Mist, like a pair of butterflies dancing in the darkness. Their sword lights grew brighter and faster, eventually carving out a haven free from Nightmares within the wall of mist.
Encouraged, the other swordsmen gripped their swords tightly and reformed their sword formation. Tens of thousands of sword lights shone once more, converging into a pillar of light that stretched across the heavens and earth, colliding head-on with the Nightmares Mist Wall.
At that moment, the sky of the Thousand Swords Plane was torn apart.
Half of it was a dark purple Nightmares, and the other half was dazzling sword light. The two forces confronted each other in the sky, devouring and eroding each other, turning the entire plane into a huge battlefield.
But the source of the Nightmares Fog Wall is the Nightmare Hydra of the Eternity Realm.
The strongest swordsmen in the Thousand Swords Plane are only at the level of Supreme God.
The gap is too big.
Three days later, the sword light began to dim.
Seven days later, more than half of the swordsmen on Sword Plains had fallen. Their bodies did not bleed, but were withered, gray, and like mummies dried up for thousands of years, as if all life force had been drained from them. The Nightmares Mist had drained their dreams, their will, and everything they had.
The Lieyan are still raging.
But his crimson longsword had lost its luster, his body was riddled with holes from the Nightmares mist, and his left eye was blind—the price he paid for slaying a high-level Nightmares Beast within the wall of mist. He still stood at the forefront of the Sword Plains, using his broken body and weary sword intent to create the last barrier for his comrades behind him.
"Sword Master..." a young swordsman cried out with tears in his eyes, "Step back, let us go!"
Lieyan turned around and glanced at the young swordsman with his remaining right eye. A smile appeared on his lips, a smile that contained weariness, relief, and a hint of barely perceptible sorrow.
"I have come to the end of the path of swordsmanship," he said, "But you must continue on it."
He turned around, facing the Nightmares fog wall, and raised his crimson longsword high.
" In the Thousand Swords Plane, the Way of the Sword endures forever!"
The crimson longsword erupted with its final light, a burning of all of Lieyan's life force, the ultimate expression of his swordsmanship beliefs. The light condensed into a slender and dazzling sword beam, like a needle, like a thread, like a bolt of lightning piercing the sky, penetrating the deepest part of the Nightmares fog wall.
The sword beam pierced through the fog wall, through the dimensional barrier, and through countless layers of Void, finally exploding on the gate of the Fantasy Hall, leaving a deep sword mark.
Those were the last words of the Thousand Swords Plane.
Lieyan's body turned to ashes after the sword light shot out, scattering with the wind. His crimson longsword was stuck in the sword field, its blade shattered into countless pieces, each fragment reflecting a faint light, as if bidding a final farewell to the world.
The old sword master stood where the Lieyan had vanished, remaining silent for a long time.
Then, he raised his longsword and slowly plunged it into the ground.
"In the name of the Sword Master, I seal the Thousand Swords Plane."
Sword light spread out from the hilt, covering the entire Sword Plains like a spider web, encompassing mountains and rivers, and every corner of the Thousand Swords Plane. The old sword master poured all his power, lifespan, and sword comprehension into this seal, using sword light to temporarily imprison the Nightmares Mist on the surface of the plane, preventing it from further penetrating deeper into the plane.
The moment the seal was completed, the old sword master transformed into a stone statue, standing in the center of the Sword Plains, holding a long sword, facing the Nightmares Mist Wall, like an unyielding monument.
The seal can only last for three years.
Three years later, the Nightmares Mist will break through the seal and completely devour the Thousand Swords Plane.
But the old sword master was betting that within three years, the Fantasy Hall would send someone to save the Thousand Swords Plane.
Unbeknownst to him, the same tragedy was unfolding simultaneously in countless other planes of the Fantasy Dimension.
The Emerald Dream Plane and the Thousand Swords Plane are just the tip of the iceberg.
The Nightmares Mist spread far faster than anyone could have imagined. It didn't invade from just one direction, but rather sprang up simultaneously from all levels, all areas, and all corners of the Fantasy Dimension. It was as if the entire Fantasy Dimension itself was a giant fruit, and the Nightmare Hydra had already planted countless insect eggs inside the fruit. Now, the eggs were hatching at the same time, hollowing out the fruit from the inside.
The Third Ring Domain: The Glazed Sea Plane.
This is a plane composed of liquid dreams, without land or sky, only an endless, azure ocean. Countless bubbles float in the ocean, each a unique dream story, refracting brilliant light under the sun. The creatures of the Glazed Sea Plane are soft-bodied beings called "Dream Conch." They do not build cities or develop technology; they simply float quietly in the ocean, weaving new dream bubbles with their tentacles.
The way the Nightmares Mist seeped into the Crystal Sea was the most bizarre—it didn't change the color of the seawater or pollute the dream bubbles, but instead directly "replaced" the consciousness of the Dream Conch.