Snow fell from the heavens in uncountable flurries—restless, wandering things—drifting past crumbling rooftops, slipping by the long-neglected clocktower at the heart of the town. Carried by the wind, they came at last to rest upon the girl's face, melting there, leaving behind only a faint trace of water.
It was hard to believe.
Seriu stood frozen, her thoughts hollow, as she found herself once more in that place buried deep within memory.
The human mind, ever merciful in its own fragile way, learns to protect itself. It buries pain, erases what it cannot bear—even the most searing moments, worn down by time or will, fade into distant echoes. When recalled, they bring only a quiet astonishment—so long has it been?
And yet now, after all this time… Seriu had returned.
—or perhaps, it was those forgotten things that had come to find her.
A bitter wind coursed through the narrow alleyways. In the distance, a stray dog watched her. There was something wrong in its gaze—something foul, something deeply unsettling. Yet it did not attack. It simply observed, silent and still, as though witnessing a play unfold before it. Its expression was unnervingly human, as if within that beast's body lurked the will of another.
Before Seriu could gather her thoughts, a hand seized her hair.
She was yanked upward.
"I finally found you."
The man's voice was thick, soaked in the stench of alcohol beneath his heavy coat.
"How much did you beg today? If it's not enough… you won't be eating tonight."
He dragged her across the ground without ceremony. Seriu clawed at the back of his hand, desperate—but it made no difference. His grip was iron.
His steps staggered. He was drunk—far gone.
She remembered this.
And with memory came rage.
She struggled with all her strength, but the hand did not yield, not even the slightest tremor. When her strength was spent, nothing had changed.
"L—Lloyd!"
Her voice broke through the alley like a cry cast into the void—desperate, grasping for something, anything.
She didn't understand what was happening. Why she was here again. But calling his name… it was the only thing she could do.
Hope burned in her chest.
She believed in him—Lloyd Holmes, the demon hunter. He would come. He always did. Just as he had in the beginning… just as he had when Bishop Lawrence stood before them. When danger came, he always appeared.
But not this time.
The alley stretched long and silent.
No one answered.
And then—unbidden—something crept into her mind.
A thought so strange, so wrong, she could scarcely understand why it had come at all.
What if… there was no Lloyd?
What if the man named Lloyd Holmes had never found her?
What if, on that day in Gaulnaro, he had taken someone else instead?
A life, misaligned by a single step.
Its echo—terrible.
Seriu's thoughts faltered. She dared not continue. From the depths of her being, a cold and absolute terror surged forth, gnawing at her, devouring her from within.
At the far end of the alley, the stray dog still stood.
Watching.
Its crimson eyes reflected a world devoid of warmth.
Everything felt so familiar.
And then—blurred.
Her memories began to collapse.
She was forgetting something.
No—many things.
Seriu struggled, clawing desperately at what remained, trying to etch those vanishing fragments into herself—but it was futile.
"Stop… stop!"
An unseen force swept through her mind, tearing apart every page upon which her memories were written.
One by one.
Until nothing remained—
Blankness.
In the throes of unbearable pain, Seriu's struggling hands slowly fell still.
She could no longer remember… how she had come here.
Her arms dragged limply across the muddy ground as she was pulled along, like a puppet that had abandoned resistance.
And then—
The sealed fragments of her childhood surged forth, flooding her consciousness, burying everything that had come after.
Her expression shifted.
Something in her… changed.
She no longer resisted. She allowed the drunkard to drag her away.
This was her life.
She had always lived here—a beggar girl, like so many others. Like them, she too had once dreamed of reaching the fabled Old Dunling.
But dreams were not enough.
She was trapped here, in this remote border town of Gaulnaro.
And yet—
Something felt wrong.
She had memories of Old Dunling… though she had only ever heard of it from others.
It was as though she had been there.
A dream?
She thought so.
And with that thought came others—fragmented, obscured, veiled beneath some unseen force that rendered them indistinct. Like memories from a dream. Unreal. Unreliable.
She let out a faint, self-mocking laugh.
Of course… she was thinking nonsense again.
Slowly, she raised her hand.
It was rough. Cracked by frost. Stained with dirt.
Nothing like the hands in those blurred memories.
In those dreams, she had been… something else.
Someone important.
Surrounded by many, all of them offering loyalty.
And yet—
Something was missing.
As though… something was about to happen.
Even the pain in her scalp faded from notice as she lifted her gaze to the sky.
What will happen…?
But in truth, what could possibly change?
She was still a beggar.
Still trapped.
Still unable to leave.
And so—
The world began to warp.
The white snow melted—not into water, but into black, viscous fluid. The buildings, the dead trees—everything within sight began to dissolve, to collapse into that same dark flow spreading across the ground.
The hand clutching her hair twisted grotesquely.
Flesh swelled.
Bones multiplied, growing, distending—until the heavy coat was torn apart from within.
And yet Seriu did not react.
—or rather, she no longer could perceive these abnormalities.
Her gaze dulled.
In her cold eyes was reflected the stray dog, now approaching, stepping through the blackened flood.
The dark liquid rose, engulfing her, nearly swallowing her whole.
Then—
The beast leapt.
Its jaws split wide, teeth bared, stretching, widening beyond what should be possible—as though it intended to devour her entirely in a single bite.
And then—
Her slender hand brushed against something beneath the black water.
Rough.
Solid.
Like stone.
There was no time to think.
Indeed, whether she still possessed the capacity to think at all was uncertain—
But then—
A voice.
A roar that shattered stillness itself.
"Wake up!"
The black water burst apart, scattering into countless suspended particles.
The distorted face of the beast loomed close—so close she could see every detail.
"Wake up!"
The voice came again.
Familiar.
And with it—
The world collapsed.
Seriu jolted upright, gasping for air. Her lungs burned as she dragged breath into her body. Lloyd held her steady, fire flickering beneath his ash-blue eyes.
"I… what happened to me?"
Her head throbbed violently, as though struck by a blunt weapon.
"You almost scared me to death!"
Lloyd ignored her question, letting out a strained cry.
He had only meant to teach the overly mature girl a lesson—but halfway through, she had gone still. Then she collapsed.
"Wait… what's going on?"
Seriu struggled to breathe. Pain clawed at her chest. Lowering her gaze, she saw her collar torn open, revealing pale skin marked with faint traces of blood.
"Florend Elixir. I injected you with it," Lloyd said quickly. "Merlin claimed it helps resist erosion."
He fastened her clothing before she could react.
Before they left, Merlin had noticed Lloyd's deteriorating mental state and handed him a vial. After the Ranger Program, the degraded Florend Elixir had been used to strengthen mental resistance against erosion. In truth, Lloyd had intended it to keep himself alert.
He had not expected to use it like this.
"My… heart… why is it beating so fast…"
Seriu clutched her chest. The pounding was thunderous—like a steam engine pushed beyond its limits. Even breathing felt difficult.
"There's probably a stimulant effect," Lloyd said, tense. "Usually, if you need that drug… it means you're already being eroded. Close to death, even."
"Erosion…? What is that…?"
Each word cost her effort.
"You're a terrible investor," Lloyd snapped, lifting her into his arms. "You don't even know your competitors' flagship product?"
He grabbed the Winchester at his side and kicked the door open with a knight's blade in hand.
Arthur, it seemed, had told her very little.
Especially not the more complex truths about demons.
"Just stay still," Lloyd said as he moved. "Better yet—close your eyes. Unless you want to watch everything around you get sliced into pieces."
"What do you mean…?"
Her voice was faint, drifting like the murmur of someone lost in drink. The Florend Elixir had torn her from that dream by force—too much for her unmodified body to bear.
"Demons. Strange ones…"
"And… Avey?"
She thought of the old steward.
"I'd guess he's somewhere having a nightmare."
Lloyd bit down on a cigarette, his teeth clenched.
"You smoke that much…?"
Her voice blurred.
"I need it to stay awake. There's only one vial… damn it, Merlin should've given me more."
He cursed under his breath.
Before him, the corridor stretched—endless, warped, twisting beyond reason.
He kicked open a window.
Below—no street remained. Only a bottomless abyss.
Above—the mansion's walls climbed endlessly toward the sky.
It was like a nightmare made manifest.
Reality and illusion overlapped, entwined, tormenting those caught between them.
Too familiar.
An anomaly capable of distorting the mind on a vast scale.
Phantasmal Nightmare.
The hallucination had already taken hold in Lloyd's mind. Fortunately, as a demon hunter, his resistance was far stronger. He had not fallen into the dream as Seriu had.
Otherwise—
This would be far worse.
"I need to find it," Lloyd murmured.
This was an attack.
An attack aimed at Seriu.
In an instant, realization struck him like lightning.
The moment he recognized the nature of the nightmare, everything fell into place.
All the forgotten details—
All the missing pieces—
They aligned.
"Seriu," he said, running through the endless corridor, the girl held tightly in his arms,
"You're in serious trouble."
He paused only a fraction before adding, his voice low and cold:
"But before I deal with that…"
"I need to find that damned dream-weaver."
—and kill it.