Truman seemed to be caught in a long, unending dream.
The dreamscape, as enchanting as a fairy tale, held him captive, unwilling to wake.
Yet, at a certain moment, a serene and tranquil sensation washed over him, like the velvet night sky adorned with radiant stars, eternal and still.
Truman awoke, his gaze sharpening, drawn to the source of that tranquil power. It emanated from a hundred-meter-high hill, crowned with a cluster of temple buildings. The people of this city-state called it the Deep Dark Acropolis.
Surrounding the Deep Dark Acropolis were countless night-blooming herbs and deep slumber flowers, encircling a towering statue at the summit.
Truman joined the procession of devotees, for it was midnight—the hour when the followers of the Deep Dark offered their prayers.
"Haa!" Truman took a deep breath among the night-blooming herbs and deep slumber flowers. Their fresh, delicate fragrance invigorated his spirit. "The power of sleeplessness!"
This was why he had come to pray to the Goddess!
"Misfortune be upon us!" Many devotees, immersed in the serene atmosphere, prayed to the entity that sheltered this city-state. Truman was no exception.
He found an inconspicuous corner, away from the others, and took out a
Book of Dreams.
This was a mysterious tome containing all beautiful dreams and visions, resplendent with myriad colors, indescribably magnificent.
The Book of Dreams, symbolizing the realization of beautiful dreams.
This was the name Truman had given it, perfectly fitting.
Its existence granted Truman a kind of psychological, even fated, invisibility.
This was Truman's innate companion, endowed with dreamlike abilities. At this moment, he prayed in the language of giants.
"The Evernight Goddess stands higher than the cosmos
and more eternal than eternity. The Lady of Crimson, The Mother of Concealment, The Empress of Misfortune and Horror,
Mistress of Repose and Silence"
In this era, this three-part honorific title typically pointed to the Annihilation Demonic Wolf, who held dominion over the night.
Yet, under the phosphorescent glow of the Book of Dreams, everything was distorted, channeled into the statue before him.
Truman ceased his prayer and waited briefly. An boundless darkness descended, and he closed his eyes, following its power.
In the eyes of the Deep Dark devotees, the Goddess's statue seemed to transform, becoming softer, more real.
Truman vanished, like a faded sketch erased by an eraser. When he reappeared, he stood before a grand, rugged temple.
A figure emerged from the depths of darkness, as if descending from the stars or the crimson moon.
She wore a flowing, shadowy robe adorned with countless radiant specks, as if a segment of the starry sky had been cut and tailored.
Her face was hazy yet strikingly beautiful, her eyes gleaming like stars in the night sky.
"You've finally arrived, Pure One," the Goddess said, her voice tinged with amusement.
Truman sighed softly. "My condition is getting worse."
He had crossed into this era of ancient gods and rampant mythical creatures over a month ago, arriving in this Deep Dark City with the Book of Dreams.
It was a brutal experience. Back then, he stood out starkly in this ancient city-state, nearly sent to the stake by the Deep Dark devotees.
In this city controlled by the Goddess of Misfortune, his arrival as a traverser was immediately noticed.
"If not for the Book of Dreams, I'd probably have been devoured by you!" Truman grumbled inwardly.
He didn't know how long the Goddess had been present, nor how much humanity remained in a being like her—a descended angel, perhaps even Sequence 1. With the entire city's devotees at her command, her sanity was questionable.
For some purpose, the Goddess had revealed her own "traverser" status, treating Truman as a fellow outsider. Now, she was about to obtain what she desired from him.
"And this 'Pure One' title, really…" Truman shook his head. The Goddess smiled silently, waiting patiently, embodying darkness and tranquility itself.
Perhaps due to the Book of Dreams, or perhaps because he truly came from beyond the cosmos, his body and soul were unimaginably pure.
Even the potions he concocted from memory left no trace on him. After drinking them, they would condense and separate from his body!
This was utterly unfair!
The only consolation was that his body and mind, while rejecting potions, also repelled the world's madness and indifferent essence.
This was what the Goddess needed.
"Have you found the cause of my drowsiness?" Truman asked, getting to the point.
In his month in the Deep Dark City, he had spent two-thirds of his time asleep!
This drowsiness was growing terrifying, nearing a state of eternal slumber!
"It's definitely related to the Book of Dreams," the Goddess replied softly, her voice calm.
"The Book of Dreams, huh?" Truman nodded slightly. He hadn't fully understood it himself. The book was deeply bound to him; no one, not even the Goddess, could touch or read it.
"I'll agree to your contract. You can use the Book of Dreams to stabilize your mental state," Truman said after a pause, looking at the Goddess.
"Thank you!" The Goddess thanked him solemnly, speaking in Chinese, as Truman expected. Her mental state was fragile; even as a descended angel, the madness and indifference were deeply ingrained.
"No need to thank me. I need your power of sleeplessness," Truman replied. He had come to complete this transaction: he would stabilize her mental state, and she would alleviate his drowsiness, preventing eternal slumber.
The power of sleeplessness, unremarkable in her hands, was now Truman's lifeline.
Truman took out the Book of Dreams and gently opened a page.
"Could this be related to dragons?" the Goddess suddenly asked.
She was not yet the Night Goddess of millennia-long schemes, and her grasp of certain mystical knowledge might be less than Truman's.
"The Dragon of Imagination?" With the dual protection of secrecy and the Book of Dreams, they dared to mention that entity.
"No." Truman shook his head slowly. The Book of Dreams' ability to make dreams reality was similar to the Dragon's authority over imagination, yet distinct.
Truman tapped the page, and instantly, endless, fantastical lights surged forth, as if bubbles of dreamlike colors shimmered within.
The Goddess's spirituality transformed into a speck of light, landing on the Book of Dreams.
In that moment, Truman seemed to pierce through a veil of mist, glimpsing something. His mind flashed with the Goddess's face—cold, inhuman, exuding utter indifference and madness, as if she might tear his body apart in the next instant.
It was chilling to realize that her earlier calm words were spoken in this frenzied state.
This was Truman's first encounter with the world's mad essence. A surge of insanity threatened to overwhelm him, his vision filled with blood and darkness, writhing like flesh, with twisted tentacles lashing the air.
Yet, the dreamlike phosphorescence flickered, spreading a surreal, bizarre, almost absurd beauty.
The two forces clashed but ultimately calmed.
The essence of madness remained unchanged but quieted within the dream, no longer restless.
On the Goddess, this manifested as her madness and indifference receding, replaced by a faint smile.
She revealed a form: starlight sprinkled from her shadowy robe, with two thick, black-furred wolf legs extending from her ribs and waist, blending divinity and eeriness, tranquility and savagery.
This was the true Goddess of Misfortune!
"I'm not mad," the Goddess said with a smile, the air seeming livelier, starlight dancing like a serene night sky.
For the first time, Truman sensed a trace of humanity in her.
"Your power is truly remarkable," the Goddess said cautiously. If possible, she might have kept Truman close to harness it.
But the Book of Dreams was too strange—stronger than even the mightiest ancient gods, she couldn't approach it!
Moreover, Truman, wielding the book, warranted her caution.
A badge appeared in the Goddess's hand, deep black with radiant specks, resembling the familiar night sky, save for half a crimson moon.
"This is the divinity of sleeplessness, linked to me. You can borrow my power," she said, handing it to Truman.
Truman's eyes lit up. Upon touching the badge, a surge of crisp spirituality flowed into him, like a cold drink on a scorching day. He shivered, feeling refreshed.
"It works well," Truman said, satisfied. At least he wouldn't sleep forever.
"Transaction complete," the Goddess said with a nod, visibly pleased.
Truman was equally delighted. His fear of sleep, of sinking forever into dreamlike bliss, was indescribable. Now, that trouble was resolved.
"…That honorific from before?" the Goddess suddenly asked.
Given the title of Empress, it clearly referred to her!
Truman closed the Book of Dreams, thought for a moment, then bowed slightly, reciting with reverence:
"The Evernight Goddess stands higher than the cosmos
and more eternal than eternity. The Lady of Crimson, The Mother of Concealment, The Empress of Misfortune and Horror,
Mistress of Repose and Silence."
"I am your pontiff, Saint Truman."
Ha! Teasing the Goddess? Truly an unexpected path!
Seeing this "fellow outsider" proclaim himself her pontiff and recite an honorific that stirred her faintly, the Goddess couldn't hold back.
Having met many times and now bound by this transaction's trust and friendship, being teased by someone she considered a friend felt… odd.
This was the Night Goddess at her most human, her emotions at their richest.
But a goddess is a goddess. Her expression didn't change; she merely nodded, leaving Truman with a soft rebuff.
Truman raised an eyebrow. Free from the shackles of eternal slumber, he was ready to stir things up.
He tapped the Book of Dreams, transforming it into a Revelation of the Night, black with starlit specks.
"…And God said, let there be light… God walked upon the waters…"
(End of Chapter)
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Did you know: The 178+ Chapters of translations just vanished, so I will try to update 30 or more tomorrow. Wish me Luck.