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Chapter 35: Echoes of the Past
Under the clear sky, the sunlight was at its brightest since spring had arrived.
This was the kind of scene one would expect along the Braggs River in late April or early May. The lush green meadows stretched all the way to the riverbank, where ancient trees stood tall and dense. In the bend of the golden river, a waterwheel or sawmill could be glimpsed through the foliage. The crystal-clear water flowed over smooth stones on either bank, carried downstream by the gentle winds of Usson Mountain toward the Viero region. For those born and raised here, this river wasn’t just water—it was an endless poem, flowing with the wisdom of ages.
Brandon thought so too as he walked along the riverbank, listening to the sounds of the forest. Bears lived in these woods, though they were rarely seen. In one memory, this place had been his grandfather’s favorite spot to take him. In another, it was nothing more than a familiar starting zone for beginners—home to low-level animals and a local bear boss that dropped high-quality leather.
The two memories intertwined seamlessly in his mind.
The third memory belonged to the Golden Magic Tree—
As he gazed upon the familiar scenery, his thoughts drifted back to just moments ago:
“Freya, Roma. I’ll make this quick. You’ve probably already realized—the true power of the Golden Magic Tree lies in its mastery over the mind.”
“The mind?” Freya asked.
“Roma, don’t interrupt,” Brandon chided gently.
“Sorry, Freya.”
“Yes, the mind,” Brandon continued. “It probes thoughts, manipulates emotions, creates illusions, and imprisons souls. In fact, while we were fighting the treants, the Golden Magic Tree had already begun influencing our minds. It’s been dreaming—a long, deep dream—and soon, that dream will merge with ours.”
“A dream?”
“Yes. Soon, we’ll each enter our own dreams. There, you’ll see things beyond belief. But before that happens, there are some crucial points I need to share…”
Brandon pointed toward the center of the valley. There, the Golden Magic Tree grew increasingly radiant in their eyes. Its branches spread outward like welcoming arms, exuding vitality—this was how the tree’s dream bled into reality.
In the game, the Treeminders’ gift of the blood of gods awakened the Golden Magic Tree, but it also condemned these elven sacred trees to an eternal slumber. Their dreams were fragments of a dark world—cryptic whispers and fleeting images that could drive any mortal who glimpsed them into madness.
Even a single fragment of these dreams was perilous for players; once ensnared, death was always imminent. Yet to confront the Golden Magic Tree, entering its dream was unavoidable.
This marked the first phase of the battle: the illusion. Among players, this stage was universally regarded as the most difficult. However, a guild known as Liberty had devised a clever solution to bypass the danger.
In earlier times, this method was a closely guarded secret, but Brandon hailed from an era when it had become widely known among players. And by sheer coincidence, he happened to carry the exact resources needed to execute the plan.
But even that wasn’t enough.
Once the first phase ended, the second phase would unfold in reality—a test of raw strength and skill. While this stage was relatively straightforward in the game, for Brandon and his companions, it posed a significant challenge.
The reason was simple: in the game, players typically entered this dungeon at an average level of 25 or higher. But here, Brandon—the strongest of the trio—was only level 10. Even with top-tier equipment, defeating the Golden Magic Tree within fifteen minutes before the arrival of the Withered Beasts seemed nearly impossible.
It was precisely why Brandon had set his sights on the Golden Magic Tree the moment he acquired the Fate Card: Holy Sword. If used correctly, the card could tip the scales in their favor, fulfilling all the conditions necessary to defeat the ancient tree.
“Crucial points?” Freya’s voice pulled him back to the present.
Brandon blinked, then nodded. “Since the Golden Magic Tree’s dream invades ours, remember this: you control your own dream. No matter what it conjures—no matter how fearsome the beasts—you must believe you can overcome them. Your limits are defined by your confidence.”
He recalled the game mechanics: in this stage, the Golden Magic Tree summoned the strongest monsters players had faced individually, recreating those battles. But it didn’t stop there. A negative emotion meter tracked mistakes and injuries; the higher it climbed, the stronger the enemies became. This feedback loop often led to failure.
Though uncertain how the negative emotion mechanic would manifest in reality, the principle remained the same: self-confidence and peak mental focus were essential.
He tapped his temple, looking earnestly at Roma and Freya. “Focus your attention. Keep your spirits high. Willpower—”
“Willpower?”
“Don’t interrupt, Roma!” Brandon snapped impatiently. “I mean determination. Willpower isn’t fixed—it fluctuates based on your state of mind. Staying focused and maintaining morale keeps your willpower at its peak. The stronger your resolve, the harder it is for the Golden Magic Tree to manipulate your emotions. Don’t let negativity consume you—it could be disastrous.”
“How disastrous?” Roma asked, her bright eyes wide with curiosity.
Brandon hesitated, unwilling to alarm them further. Fear itself was a form of negative emotion. Failure meant being trapped within the tree’s trunk, soul bound until the Golden Magic Tree turned to ash—a fate synonymous with death.
The surroundings were beginning to blur.
But Brandon hadn’t finished explaining all the rules. During the battle, when the first person awoke from the dream, they could enter another teammate’s dream to offer support, helping them conquer their nightmares. Each member of the team had only one chance to assist, so guilds typically arranged an awakening chain: the strongest entered first, followed by the next strongest, ensuring timely aid once the leader awoke. This minimized casualties during the first phase.
Brandon intended to follow that sequence.
“I’ll enter first,” he declared. “Then Freya, and finally Roma.”
“How do we enter the dream?” Freya asked.
“Just close your eyes. I’ll go first, then you, then Roma—” Brandon nearly bit his tongue as he reached out to stop Roma from closing her eyes prematurely.
“Ah!” Roma squeaked as Brandon pressed his hand against her forehead.
“Curiosity kills the cat, Roma!”
“S-sorry…”
“The realm of magic and the mind is perilous. Always proceed with caution.” Brandon sighed. His reasoning was simple: he was the most prepared, so naturally, he should enter first. Placing Freya second made sense because she, as the future Valkyrie, would likely struggle the most due to her inner barriers. Yet with his guidance, she wouldn’t face undue danger. Meanwhile, Roma, with her straightforward mindset, would find it easier to break free from the tree’s influence, especially with Freya’s help.
The first phase lasted five minutes in reality, extended to thirty in the dream. If they failed to escape within that time, they’d be lost forever, their souls imprisoned indefinitely.
It was a solid plan, one Brandon believed had no flaws. Success meant not only substantial rewards but also ample time to navigate Ridenburg—a situation he understood better than anyone else. Finding Roma’s aunt and evacuating safely depended on every extra moment they could secure.
He patted the hilt of his Lustrous Stinger and took a deep breath. The Golden Magic Tree’s dream felt vivid, the scent of damp earth filling his lungs. It smelled like April, like fresh grass and budding forests.
But why had the boss placed him here? Did it think his greatest foe was the old brown bear from these woods?
If so, good. A rare elite at level 16—child’s play for him now.
Still, Brandon knew better than to trust the Golden Magic Tree. These creatures, twisted by the blood of gods, embodied pure evil, irrational and merciless.
Timing-wise, the scripted event should trigger soon. Though he’d only been in this world for days, Brandon instinctively referred to it as such—habit from the game.
At that moment, the sound of clashing metal reached his ears. To someone familiar with Military Swordsmanship (Level 3), the rhythm suggested sparring rather than combat.
Brandon didn’t avoid the noise. Evasion in dreams was futile and signaled fear—a negative emotion the Golden Magic Tree might exploit. Following the source, he rounded a large vertical waterwheel behind the sawmill and froze.
Two figures stood before him, both unexpected yet unmistakable.
One was an elderly man with snow-white hair and a stern expression. Clad in a navy-blue uniform, he wielded a sword with an aura of unshakable authority, like a mountain carved from stone. What caught Brandon off guard was the man’s gaze—calm yet commanding, enough to unsettle even the guiltiest heart.
The other figure was a boy wielding a wooden sword. To anyone else, he might have seemed ordinary, but Brandon recognized him instantly.
It was himself—or rather, his younger self. Shock rippled through him as realization dawned. The elder beside the boy could only be one person: his grandfather, a veteran of the November War and recipient of the Candlelight Medal. A legendary figure whose accomplishments spoke volumes despite his advanced age.
Yet something about this dream differed from the game. Brandon tensed, sensing a shift. Before he could fully process it, the elder’s presence grew heavier, subtly affecting his composure.
“Negative emotion!” Brandon realized too late that he’d let himself be influenced. Unlike the game, where systems couldn’t manipulate thoughts, here the stakes were infinitely higher.
This fight would be far tougher than anything in the game!
Taking a steadying breath, Brandon checked his pouch. Thankfully, his ace remained intact. Though unexpected, the situation was still under control.
Calm settled over him as the elder’s piercing gaze locked onto him. After a long pause, the man spoke:
“Young man, do you deserve to inherit everything my grandson has achieved?”
The words struck Brandon like a physical blow.
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