Abel wasn't sure when sleep had taken him.
One moment, he had been staring at the ceiling of his room in the mansion—his thoughts replaying everything that had happened on what was technically his first day: becoming a Beyonder, encountering the Life School of Thought, meeting The Fool, encountering Outer Gods, and gaining both a summon and a messenger—and the next, he was floating.
Or perhaps drifting was the better word.
A strange feeling surrounded him, as if gravity was there, yet not at the same time.
He felt the softness of his bed beneath him, but it felt distant, half a memory. Abel wasn't sure how long this state lasted, whether it was minutes or hours, he couldn't tell.
It was akin to the Spirit World in that regard.
He remembered experiencing this sort of sensation several times in his past life. It wasn't too common, but not exactly rare for him either.
When he'd looked into it back then, he discovered it was called Hypnagogia—the transitional state between wakefulness and sleep that occurs as you begin to drift off.
So he didn't panic. Not even as hues of purple and pink swirled in his vision. Vivid imagery and hallucinations were normal in a hypnagogic state, as were the strangely lucid thoughts coursing through his mind.
According to what he'd read online, even Salvador Dalí and Thomas Edison had tried to tap into this state to capture ideas, as it was known to boost creativity and insight.
Perhaps that was why he felt so close to… something. As though he were reaching for it, or it for him.
Time flowed strangely in this state, and Abel could feel himself drawing nearer and nearer, until—
His eyes snapped open.
"…Annoying."
Abel sat up in bed, his golden eyes immediately locking onto the phosphorescent bubbles of different sizes drifting slowly toward him. Hues of violet, pink, and rose gently swirling within them.
Given that he had been asleep—or more accurately, in a hypnagogic state moments before—it didn't take much to deduce where he was.
"Dream Plane." He murmured.
The white-haired noble reached over and lit the oil lamp on his bedside table, only to frown as the flame's glow barely extended a few centimeters.
Abel's gaze returned to the bubbles. From their soft glow, he could see that his room looked… muted. Washed out.
But it wasn't just the colours. Everything felt…hollow.
Lifeless.
"According to my Spellcaster Archetype: Diabolism, I can draw energy from the plane I'm connected to…" He stared at the bubbles in thought as he recalled the purple and pink hallucinations, along with the previous feeling of something drawing to him. "And create spells and magic related to said plane."
He had a theory—at least, a guess—about how he'd entered this lucid state.
"Did I unknowingly cast a spell to become lucid? Or… is it the Dream Energy?" he wondered aloud, tilting his head as he reached for a tiny pink bubble within arm's reach.
The moment his finger touched it, the bubble popped—and instantly, the world brightened.
Abel could see his room bright as day. He could now clearly see how everything around him was dulled, shadowed compared to the real world.
Unknown to him, his previous gold eyes turned silver.
But, as quickly as the brightness came, it disappeared, and the only source of light was the bubbles—Dream Energy.
"That was…" Abel glanced at the bubbles in surprise. "Did the energy respond to my subconscious desire for light?"
That…actually made sense.
Dreams weren't just idle nonsense spun by the mind during sleep.
They held meaning to people. They were intent. Will. Unspoken longing.
Dreams represented desire, in their rawest, most abstract form. The yearning for something.
Warmth, understanding, safety…even something as simple as clarity in the dark.
So if his subconscious longed for light, then perhaps the Dream Energy simply answered.
"…Then," Abel murmured, deep in thought, "as long as my Intent, Desire, and Emotions are clear and strong enough… I'm basically invincible in here, aren't I?"
Maybe he should be called The Dreamer instead of The Summoner?
He snorted, shaking his head. "Yeah, definitely shouldn't do that."
In this world, where symbolism carried real power, casually adopting a title like The Dreamer could invoke far more than just a name.
He knew, better than anyone else, that Names held weight.
And given what Plane he was now in, where intent and desire were the main focus, who knew what would happen if an entity called The Dreamer was born.
"Let's not create the Blind Idiot God in a world already overflowing with eldritch horrors," Abel resolved himself.
Anyway, he digressed.
Was he invincible in the Dream Plane?
No, no he wasn't.
"I want to fly."
He popped another bubble drifting his way, and in the same instant, he felt himself lift off the bed, hovering effortlessly.
Movement came surprisingly easy. He only had to intend to go in a direction—up or down—and his body followed, gliding through the air with no resistance.
But the magic only lasted a few seconds before gravity reclaimed him, dropping him gently back onto the bed.
The Dream Plane was a realm shaped by thought, will, and—more than likely—emotion. Abel couldn't say much about the emotional aspect just yet; aside from mild surprise, he hadn't felt anything particularly strong. But when one thought of dreams, emotion always came naturally to mind.
The realm responded to the subconscious. It reacted to intent. It manifested desire as reality.
But not without a cost.
"Dream energy…" he muttered, glancing at the remaining bubbles.
And that might not be all.
Reality here was fluid, far more so than in the waking world. But that fluidity was probably proportional to one's control—their level of lucidity.
"Only Beyonders of the Visionary—Spectators—and those of the Evernight Pathway should be able to control dreams," Abel mused aloud, narrowing his eyes. "And Demigods or higher should be able to break out of dreams imposed by lower sequences…"
Although not important right now, he at least knew what to be careful of.
Anyway, the limits.
Dream Energy was the cost required to use spells—or rather, to manipulate dreams.
What about its finiteness?
"Infinite." Abel concluded, watching a bubble float in through the wall.
People would always sleep. People would always yearn for something. As long as both of those things existed, Dream Energy would remain infinite.
Ever-present.
Unless humanity was completely wiped out.
"The only real limits are how much Dream Energy I can gather… Beyonders… and maybe whatever else lives in dreams."
Something simple, like Night Vision, likely wouldn't cost much Dream Energy. But something more extravagant—like giving himself the aura of an Angel—might be a completely different story.
Who knows, if he used the same amount of Dream Energy it takes to maintain Night Vision constantly, it might only let him pretend to be an Angel for a few seconds.
Still, this changed a few things.
Previously, he'd planned to use AuraSignature whenever someone recited his Honorific Name, to fake divinity.
The perk was basically your classic anime-style spiritual pressure. It allowed him to pick a "theme," which could be anything: something as simple as flames, or as complex as the faint impression of a depth filled with clockwork and eyes hidden within shadows.
Along with the theme, he could also select an emotion. So whenever he released his presence, there'd be both a visual and emotional effect.
Back in the carriage—after consuming the Monster Characteristic and telling Fors about her curse, while practicing the Acting Method—the darkening of the surroundings and the sudden chill were only part of the full theme. The true reveal of the theme was left for The Summoner, to act like a proper paper tiger. Fortunately, he'd been able to throw the blame onto the raving Demigod.
And insignificance that they felt in that moment? That was his chosen emotion.
If Abel had known he'd be isekai'd into a world of gods, angels, and eldritch horrors, he would've chosen differently—something more divine. A golden halo. Celestial light. The emotion? Reverence.
As of now, when his theme and emotion were combined, he came off more like an Evil God than anything else.
His only saving grace was that, over time, he could change both the theme and the emotion. Eventually, he'd even gain access to a second set entirely.
But now, thanks to the Dream Plane, things were a little more flexible.
However—
"I need to actually feel the aura of an Angel before I can simulate it perfectly," Abel realized.
He didn't even consider the Outer Deities.
He hadn't encountered their true bodies face-to-face. What he'd experienced before was more like an out-of-body event—likely a result of his spirituality reacting to their presence, combined with the fact that he was now a Monster.
So, he hadn't truly felt their level, their presence, their aura, whatever it was that made them what they were.
However, he did carry the corruptions of a few Outer Gods within him. That alone meant he could probably project something close enough.
Not the presence of a true Outer God, but a false one.
"That might actually come across as more powerful than a True God," he muttered.
Of course, all of this was just speculation. The amount of Dream Energy it would take to project such an aura would be staggering. And that's not even mentioning the fact that simply perceiving an Outer God could cause irreversible corruption.
Abel had no intention of being labeled an Evil God worse than the True Creator on his debut.
"Less thinking, more exploring," he decided, rising from his bed and walking over to the bubbles that lit up parts of his room with soft, shifting hues.
Before he made contact with them, he imagined being able to see in the dark, granting himself Night Vision again as the Dream Energy gently entered his system.
Everything brightened again.
Abel then gazed back at his bed, the Dream Plane peeled away as Insight was dialled back up.
Colours returned to normal, and Abel looked at his sleeping form on the bed in the waking—material— world.
"Interesting." He walked over to the bed, and stared at himself, "The De Sade genes are pretty blessed, huh?"
With a small smirk, he stretched out a hand, intending to poke his own face—only for his finger to pass straight through, touching the mattress beneath.
What…?
He withdrew his hand, blinking in confusion. But then, understanding flickered in his now silver eyes.
"Insight is only letting me see the real world, but I'm still in the Dream Plane. That means I touched the bed in the dream, not the actual one." A thoughtful look crossed his face as he studied his sleeping body.
Once again, he reached out, this time intending and desiring to make real contact.
The Dream Energy within him stirred—gathering, responding to his will.
Flesh met flesh—!
Abel's hand recoiled as if burned, snapping back instinctively. At the same time, the Dream Energy inside him plummeted, dropping below ten percent in an instant.
"I should have expected as much." The surprise was clear on his face.
In hindsight, he should have realised this would happen after making a comparison between projecting high level and low level abilities with Dream Plane.
And the highest form of Dream Manipulation was to blur the boundary between Dream and Reality, where Dream becomes Reality, and Reality becomes Dream.
Of course that kind of manipulation would consume Dream Energy exponentially.
"I wonder," Abel rubbed his chin, wandering toward the window. "What would happen if my body in the real world died while I was in the Dream Plane?"
It was a morbid thought, yes, but the Monster couldn't help but be curious.
He pulled the curtains open. The sky was still dark, but he didn't pay much attention. His focus was on the countless Dream Bubbles floating over the Empress Borough.
Drifting slowly, at a snail's pace, towards him.
With a single desire and intent—
Click-!
Abel's head whipped toward the door. Insight was still dialled up, letting him perceive the real world clearly.
His lips twitched, curling upwards into an amused smile as he watched Dominique quietly close the door behind her.
Abel raised an eyebrow as she let the nightgown slide off her shoulders, pooling at her feet without a sound.
What she wore beneath left little to the imagination — sheer black lace negligee wrapped tight around her body, drawing the eye to the dip of her waist, the swell of her hips, and the smooth stretch of thigh that followed. The back was cut low, almost scandalous, revealing the arch of her spine and the shameless curve of her ass.
She stalked to his bedside like the predator she was, her hips swaying deliberately.
"Ah~ You're really too handsome for your own good, Abel," Dominique whispered, brushing a gentle hand over his sleeping face. "Why can't you just be mine alone, brother? I'll take care of you, love you till death, and g-give you…" Her voice faltered as a blush bloomed from her cheeks down to her neck. "C-children."
Abel didn't say anything and stared at Dominique, stunned.
Not by her confession, though he found it bold, and admittedly, adorable. No, what truly caught his attention was the blazingspark radiating from within her heart.
Dream Energy bubbles flooded the room from her direction, drifting toward him. His nearly depleted reserves surged, refilling rapidly—and then some.
Was that… sparks inside the bubble?
"Maybe we should have 3 kids…"
Abel smiled at Dominique's words as he analysed what he was seeing.
Dream Energy wasn't limited to sleep. It came in two categories: Sleep Dreams and Life Dreams.
Sleep Dreams were what you saw when unconscious —images, fantasies, projections. Life Dreams are aspirations, goals, and deep desires.
Dominique's dream was clearly to have a family with him.
What a pure dream…
And from what he could feel, Living Dream Energy was more potent, denser, and far rarer than its sleeping counterpart. It only seemed to leak out when someone was thinking deeply, emotionally, or obsessively about their dream.
"That's everything for now." Abel mused his eyes falling on Dominique, now curled tightly beside his body, sniffing his neck.
"Domi," he chuckled softly, "are you sure you're not a cat instead of a vampire?"
He shook his head with a smile, dialling down Insight as he desired to leave the Dream Plane.
A lot had happened today, and though the mysteries of the Dream Plane called to him, Abel didn't want to miss his sister's company.
Not after hearing such…cute words.
Maybe he should tease her in the morning?
++++
A/N: A shorter chapter this time, hope you enjoyed it.
Introducing the Dream Plane was something I was looking forward to for a while, even when I didn't know what to do with it. I just went with the 'Fuck it, we ball' mindset and done what I thought was interesting.
Though it will have some similarity to how the Sleepless pathway Beyonders see dreams like the dim lights, and oval bubbles above people's head signalling what they're dreaming about.
Also, I had thought, which was also what made me delay exploring the Dream Plane for now.
Should the amount of Dream Energy Abel can store be limited to how much Spirituality he has a Sequence 9 or not? Or should he be able to call upon as much as possible?
I'm gonna think about it for a while, but I'm leaning towards the latter as it will help in him playing his godly persona as The Summoner.