Chapter 538: True... Curse! (Large Chapter!) (3/4)

Chapter 538: The True... Curse! (Grand Chapter!) (3/4)

Philomena's voice drifted out, sounding as though it came from above yet also from below—in short, echoing and floating in a hollow void.

"So, what does this dream mean then?"

"It means nothing. Since I was very young, you told me to dream, but it troubled me for a very long time because I had no dreams to have. Father would lick my hand while leading me into his own dreams.

But that was not mine, even though I quite liked it there.

In truth, my own dreams have always been empty. I did not know what to fill them with, nor did I understand what was fit to be contained. Not only was there no suitable person, but I could not even find a single suitable color.

Yet I like it here. In this place, I do not have to be watched by anyone; I can stay here to my heart's content, without fear of being disturbed.

Every time I leave this place, I struggle for a long time. I ask myself, it is so wonderful here, why must I go back out?

But I remember you saying, Grandmother, to treat reality as a dream and dreams as reality. Yes, that is right.

If I do not go out to experience the terror of nightmares, how can I ever appreciate the beauty of lying here?

Each time, I leave with the mindset that I can return with greater excitement and comfort.

You are the first visitor, Grandmother."

"I am honored."

"Crack!"

A sharp explosion rang out, and a distinct whip mark appeared across Madame Vilsher’s face.

Yet she did not grow angry; instead, she spoke with a hint of excitement: "Heheh, my granddaughter, are you finally going to raise a hand against your grandmother?"

"This is you at your weakest, Grandmother."

"Yes, you have made me very weak. My wretched dog of a son did not hesitate to use himself as kindling to draw the fire onto me."

"Crack!"

Another whip mark appeared on Madame Vilsher's body. The fabric of her gown slipped from her shoulder, exposing her withered frame.

Madame Vilsher, however, became even more excited. She glanced down at her own body, raised her arms, and stroked her skin:

"Ah, do you know? Every time I look at your body, Grandmother feels so envious.

Youth is something everyone has possessed, and once it is gone, it is something they are willing to regain at any cost."

"Crack!"

"Crack!"

"Crack!"

Whip marks appeared one after another across Madame Vilsher's bare flesh, yet she remained standing there, like a reef in the ocean, immovable and resolute.

"Heheheh..."

Finally, Madame Vilsher laughed once more. She spoke, "Granddaughter, I gave you a chance, but you cannot do it. Your teeth are still not sharp enough. Grandmother is old, but you still cannot bite through me."

Madame Vilsher stepped forward, reaching out her hand:

"Come out, my granddaughter."

A layer of gray fire flared up from Madame Vilsher’s body, bringing with it a shift in color. The original pitch black began to be suppressed as gray patterns gradually overlaid it.

Though she had suffered weakening, endured fatal strikes, and walked into traps—though Madame Vilsher had borne it all—her foundations were simply too deep.

Amidst the darkness, Philomena's figure was forcibly dragged out. She stood there naked, her expression exceptionally grave.

This was a despairing disparity, like an ant challenging an elephant. Even if the elephant had stepped into a "deep pit" dug in advance by the ant, what meaning did it truly hold?

"What a beautiful body, what a beautiful girl you are, what a captivating youth."

The flames on Madame Vilsher’s body were steadily rising, and with them, her dominance over this dream grew larger and larger. Taking total control, just as she had with the previous dream, was only a matter of time.

After a brief silence, Philomena began to struggle.

She began to hiss,

She began to roar,

She became completely hysterical.

"Good, very good, my granddaughter. How could you give up so easily? I thought you were incapable of anger, but it turns out you can feel it, heheh.

Now,

When you cried as a child, I never held you, nor did I care to comfort you.

But now,

I want to comfort you one last time, for the very last time.

Consider it,

A way to make up for our final regret as grandmother and granddaughter, shall we?"

Madame Vilsher opened her arms. Opposite her, no matter how hard Philomena struggled, her body continued to drift inexorably toward her grandmother.

A rift slowly tore open across the chest of that withered, elderly torso. Two rows of ribs, like the mouthparts of an insect, began to spread wide to welcome the arrival of that newborn life.

"It is time to end this, my dear."

"Bang!"

It sounded as if something had been kicked open.

Immediately following,

"Clatter clatter..."

A dense cluster of chains moved swiftly, wrapping directly around Philomena's body, while another chain thrust itself horizontally between Philomena and Madame Vilsher.

Behind it, the silhouette of Karen emerged.

"Cough, cough... cough, cough..."

Karen covered his mouth with his palm and began to cough.

Originally, he had intended to say something, but now, the trauma to his soul still forced a cough from his throat.

If he had known, before entering the door—no, before sitting down on that chair in the living room—he should have smoked a few more cigarettes, or simply torn the tobacco out to chew in his mouth.

In any case, anything would have been better than coughing even inside a dream.

Madame Vilsher tilted her head, looking at Karen with immense bewilderment and profound curiosity:

"How did you... get in here?"

Karen finished coughing and said, "I just walked in."

"Heheh." The mouthparts on Madame Vilsher’s chest began to close up gradually, and finally, those two rows of ribs returned to her breast. "That is wonderful then. You can serve as an extra pre-meal appetizer for me."

"Mm." Karen gently raised his hand. The chains of Order wrapping Philomena suddenly exerted their force, and with a resounding "bang," Philomena's confinement was shattered instantly.

"Captain..."

Philomena walked to Karen's side, then took another step forward, standing protectively in front of him.

"Cough, cough..."

Caren coughed again, and once it subsided, he habitually wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, saying:

"No manners. Stand in the back."

Philomena froze for a moment, but still chose to step back, standing at Caren's side.

"Deaf?"

Philomena stepped back once more, standing behind Caren.

And this scene fell entirely into the eyes of Madame Felsher, who spoke up:

"It seems my granddaughter truly listens to you very well."

"I am her superior, after all."

"Sometimes, it is not easy for a woman to meet a man whose words she is willing to obey."

"You are straying from the topic, old lady." Caren sighed. "Let me help you."

"Help me? What kind of words are those?"

"You understand." Caren smiled. "To set you free."

"Good, very good. I hope you have the confidence to speak such words."

"I won't disappoint you."

"Then... let's see."

Madame Felsher reached out to grab Caren.

In an instant, Caren perceived that a giant invisible hand seemed to be closing in on him from around his body.

Strands of Order Chains began to move, like long spears, smashing directly toward the surroundings, and then exerted force collectively, helping Caren support the situation around him.

But soon, a more majestic pressure arrived, a doubling of the initial force... followed immediately by another doubling.

The Order Chains began to snap one by one, and a terrifying, invisible crushing force began to continue its assault on Caren.

This, after all, was not Caren's own consciousness space; this was Philomena's dreamscape, and Madame Felsher had not entered his home ground, so under this kind of situation, the effective response methods Caren could use were actually not many.

However, Caren did not panic, but instead looked at the back of his hand.

Although he did not want to employ that object, there was no choice; as it currently appeared, the most suitable thing to use here was that scythe.

Fortunately, this time he did not have to swing the scythe toward himself to slash.

...

In reality, Caren, sitting on the living room chair, saw the imprint of the [Scythe of War] on the back of his hand begin to flicker.

...

The phantom of the [Scythe of War] reappeared, and when it emerged, Caren felt only a sharp pain coming from the depths of his soul.

Moreover, this war scythe actually subconsciously wanted to close in on him, likely because it failed to slash him to death last time, and coming again this time, it wanted to finish what it had started.

Caren immediately attempted to control it, forcefully altering its trajectory, causing it to fall toward Madame Felsher.