Chapter 210: Two Sides of One Coin
After the words left him, Akasha did not open a portal.
Instead, he stepped off the lowest platform of the treehouse and rose into the open void beyond Dream Land’s barrier.
The change happened in an instant...
One heartbeat, he was surrounded by the warm, breathable air of his own domain, its gentle touch lingering on his skin; the next, he was swallowed by the frigid, airless void of open space.
It was like a boundless sea of black stretching endlessly in every direction.
He had briefly journeyed through the void before, when he descended into what was then the world of Noxara.
But this was the first time he had truly flown through the void under his own power, without the shorthand of portals or teleportation, and the sensation struck him with an unexpected peace.
The silence was absolute... with no wind or even a single residual hum of life.
It was only the vast quiet of the space between stars.
His baggy clothes drifted weightlessly around his frame. The long cascade of purple and snow-white hair floated behind him in slow, lazy streams.
Far below and behind, the mountain of Dream Land hung like a solitary island of soft light; around him, the six worlds of the Orin Star System turned in their slow, indifferent orbits.
As he flew, the recent conversation with Luna and Yume returned to him unbidden.
He’d told them he never wanted to be a tyrant, and that was still true.
He had no desire to march from universe to universe planting flags or grinding worlds beneath his heel.
He only wanted a life he could enjoy... something quiet, safe, and uninterrupted.
"Ha... that’s quite a thought, isn’t it?" he muttered to himself as he drifted through the endless void.
The more he turned the idea over in his mind, the more the harsh truth began to crystallize.
"I don’t know if I’ve been trying to build some kind of false reality..." he admitted, recalling all the novels he had devoured over the years.
Peace was never something that fell from the heavens—especially not in the vast, ruthless expanse of Pantheos.
Even with all the knowledge he had gathered, and despite not understanding everything, he knew that even if his mother were some overpowered force of nature, it would mean nothing without his own ambition to match it.
Pantheos was a world brimming with cheats and beings of absurd strength.
Even if he possessed things that made gaining power easy, it only meant he wasn’t the only one.
His latest encounter with Tyron had proven that.
"In every story I’ve read, true peace is never just given," he scoffed, almost mocking his earlier naivety.
It wasn’t that he had never considered rushing to gain power, but deep down, all he truly wanted was peace.
Like the reasoning behind his three divine wishes, he wanted growth that came naturally, without constant effort or struggle.
His goal was simple: to live freely, moving about whenever the mood struck, and doing whatever he wished, whenever he wished, without restriction or burden.
However, if he truly wanted to remain in Dream Land without ever fearing someone strong enough to break down its gates, he would need a power so absolute that the mere thought of opposing him would wither and die before it even took shape.
But once again... this wasn’t news to Akasha.
He knew this, but as mentioned before... his ambition had never matched what was needed to achieve his goal.
Until now, he had mostly minded his own business.
When an issue landed in his lap, he handled it, but the bigger forces at play in the world of power had always been left to set the pace.
From the moment he set foot on Kalpa, he’d been aware of the looming deadline.
But instead of taking control and bending it to his will, he let the fixed date dictate his plans.
"Now that I think about it..." he muttered, shaking his head as the distant stars seemed to pulse in sync with his thoughts.
"I’ve probably slowed my own growth by moving at this pace."
He was once the God of Lucid Dreams, and within Pantheos, Dreams were deeply connected to potential.
Yet, instead of pushing the limits and using his power to reshape that potential, he’d chosen a measured approach simply because he believed he had "time."
"Yeah... that ends now," he said, a slow, cold determination settling deep in his chest as the silent void drifted endlessly past him.
From this moment forward, he would wear two faces.
To those he allowed close—to Luna, to Yume, to the few who stood inside his circle—he would remain the Lord of Dreams: patient, indulgent, protective of the small family he was building.
But in the broader realm of power, he would transform into something entirely different—a figure rarely glimpsed, an elusive force whose presence was felt more than witnessed, and whose name surfaced only in the quiet death that followed the storm.
"The Lord of Nightmares..."
The moment the words formed, his clothes answered the shift in his mood.
The baggy shirt and loose pants dissolved into soft motes of light, reforming into the long black coat that fell to his bare feet, the dark attire settling over his frame like a second shadow.
As he continued through the void, his form began to flicker.
One moment he was clearly visible against the black; the next he thinned, edges blurring as if the space around him were slowly refusing to acknowledge his presence.
He faded in and out in irregular intervals—appearing, vanishing, reappearing farther along his path—until the intervals stretched longer and longer.
Then he was gone.
The void remained empty and silent, as though nothing had ever passed through it.
----
Within the Academy of Veils, all the Peak Masters sat with bubbling tension surrounding their last conquest.
One Peak Master leaned forward with a weary sigh.
"In a little more than a decade, we’ve conquered almost everything," he said, noting that every continent had fallen except for the Eastern and Central Continents.
But the Eastern Continent wasn’t the real issue.
"I don’t understand why they even bother to resist."
Marcus’s voice cut in, low and edged with frustration.
"It’s the Central Continent... what else did you expect?"
Instead of allowing the Academy of Veils to even set foot on their soil, the inhabitants had erected a barrier so vast and powerful it shielded the entire land.
In response, the Academy of Eternal Knowledge merely sent an envoy, who made their stance unmistakably clear.
They would fight to the last living soul unless they were allowed to speak directly with the one truly standing behind the Academy of Veils.
Harlan Steele sat at the head of the table, short white hair neatly kept, posture composed.
His sharp eyes moved slowly from face to face, listening without interruption.
The calculative stillness that always surrounded him had only deepened as the argument continued.
He remained quiet for several long breaths, clearly turning the problem over with careful precision, preparing to speak.
Before the first word could leave his mouth, the air near the far side of the chamber shifted.
Akasha appeared without sound or warning.
To most of those present, he was little more than a blur—an incomplete outline the eye struggled to hold, as though their senses refused to accept his presence fully.
Even Harlan, whose cultivation was now the strongest, found the figure before him slightly vague.
Gradually, the chatter faded away, each conversation tapering off until the room was still.
Akasha stood there, back in his usual baggy black pants and loose shirt, the long cascade of purple and snow-white hair falling freely around his shoulders.
A small, easy smile touched his lips as he walked forward without haste, bare feet quiet against the stone floor.
He pulled out one of the free chairs near the middle of the table and settled into it with relaxed familiarity.
"Yo," he said, voice calm and almost casual, red-dotted eyes sweeping once across the silent room.