The circle shimmered like a dying star. Hiragi stepped in—
—and time split.
The void didn't transport him. It divided him.
And there, standing opposite, was a boy who looked just like him.
But cleaner. Brighter. Untouched by blood or ash.
He wore their school's uniform, pristine and ironed. His eyes held light—soft, unclouded, the kind of eyes that hadn't seen what Hiragi had seen.
"Who are you?" Hiragi asked, already knowing the answer.
The boy smiled faintly.
"I'm you."
"The one who believed Eden could be saved."
The world around them was broken perfection.
Floating debris hung like glass in still water.
Children's laughter echoed without source. Airi's voice called out from nowhere. Ishigami's silhouette flickered at the edge of things—frozen, unreachable.
"This is the last dream Eden had," the dream-Hiragi said.
"Before you burned it all."
Hiragi didn't flinch.
"Then you already know why it had to die."
The boy shook his head, stepping forward barefoot.
"It didn't. You could've chosen hope."
They didn't draw weapons—because in this space, memories were weapons.
The dream-Hiragi raised his hand.
From thin air, a vision of Eden emerged—clean, bustling, filled with light and life.
Civilians walking peacefully, kids chasing birds, gardens blooming.
Hiragi raised his own hand.
And summoned what was left: charred corpses, streets cracked by blood, children twisted by Hollow sigils burned into their skin.
"You don't win by showing me what we lost," Hiragi said.
"I was there when it was taken."
The dream scowled.
"No. You chose to let it be taken. You chose the path of the Void."
"Because your way didn't work."
"Because you gave up."
Then the fight began.
No blades. No punches. Just fragments.
They hurled each other's memories like spears—
—Airi smiling in class.
—Airi vomiting blood in a ritual gone wrong.
—Ishigami explaining science projects.
—Ishigami choking on broken prayers.
The sky tore. Time unraveled.
Each clash echoed across every possibility of who Hiragi could have been.
Finally, the Void Hiragi pressed forward.
"You know what you are now?" he whispered to the other.
"A beautiful mistake."
He stabbed his hand into the dream's chest. Not a wound, but a cancellation.
The dream-Hiragi staggered.
"You were supposed to protect people," he whispered.
"Not erase them."
"I protect the living. Not memories."
And with a final surge, the dream collapsed.
Gone.
The world darkened.
The fake Eden evaporated.
And when Hiragi opened his eyes again, he was kneeling in the real world. Blood in his mouth. Air thick with the scent of burnt spirit.
Airi knelt beside him.
"What happened?" she whispered.
"I killed something."
"A version of myself."
Ishigami stood, quiet as always, watching him with unreadable eyes.
Above them, the sky rumbled.
The Hollow Army had stopped—not out of fear. But reverence.
The Dreamkiller had awakened.
End of Chapter 66 – The Dream That Kills Itself