Dorothy’s Forbidden Grimoire Novel - Chapter 418

## Chapter 418 – Dream Transmission
Conqueror Sea North Shore, Nawaha.

Southern Nawaha, Port Area. The twisted horror that had moments before torn through the night sky with its assaults disappeared without warning, dissolving into nothingness as if it had never been. The Knights’ follow-up strikes, barely initiated, hit vacant air. They gaped into the pitch-black void, bewilderment plain on their features.

“Gone… something that enormous… vanished instantly?” The Captain, positioned on a warehouse roof, scowled fiercely as he swept his gaze around, fruitlessly hunting for any sign of the creature’s retreat. However hard he searched, its location eluded him.

“Maybe the monster fled,” Santus proposed from street level, his grip tight on the Radiance of the Holy Mother. “Our joint assault landed a solid hit. It likely judged us too powerful to face and chose to run.”

Nearby, atop another building, Jode countered sharply. “Not so certain. Remember, this entity is fundamentally a being of ‘Shadow’. It might have cloaked itself. It could be lurking right here, invisible. Everyone must stay alert!” Jode’s voice was heavy with conviction.

Santus expressed doubt. “Hiding? Could it really? Concealing something that massive with mere ability?”

“Do not discount it,” interjected the elderly monk Werner beside Santus, his voice gravelly but firm. “Maintaining hypnotic control over such a vast area and intensity requires power at least at the White Ash level or higher. Its possession of large-scale stealth abilities would be unsurprising. We absolutely cannot lower our guard…”

Jode gave a brisk nod. “Elder Werner is correct. Extreme caution is essential. I propose we launch coordinated detection efforts to force it out!”

The other three agreed instantly. Four White Ash-tier ‘Lamp’ path extraordinary beings concentrated, channeling their core spiritual energy into detection. Consuming ‘Lamp’ energy, they cast a wide sensory net, probing the vicinity for any trace of spiritual residue or extraordinary presence. Hearing their plan, Dorozi, observing from a distance, severed her link to the small corpse puppets she controlled near the Knights, letting the bodies become mere inanimate corpses again.

Glowing light ignited in all four pairs of eyes as their detection swept out. Yet, despite sustained focus, they found no hint of the Pseudo-Moth. Eventually, the mounting drain on their spiritual reserves forced them to halt the search.

“No sign of the creature… Is its ‘Shadow’ energy too overwhelming? Or has it truly left?” Jode muttered, squinting into the surrounding gloom, frustration clear. Both possibilities, in truth, held weight.

The Pseudo-Moth had shifted dimensions entirely, while its enslaved minions crept unseen towards the four Knights of Radiance near the docks.

Deep within the Knights’ blind spots, masses of Dreamwasted – hollowed husks of people whose Dream Cocoons had already been drained – shambled mindlessly through shadowed lanes. Originating from countless points across the city, they converged silently on the port, drawing nearer to the four Knights.

Bound to the Pseudo-Moth within the Dream Lands, these Dreamwasted were flooded with torrents of ‘Shadow’ spiritual energy, powering their concealment. The collective spiritual energy fueling this cloak far surpassed anything held individually by Jode’s group. Thus, the four remained completely unaware of the encroaching hosts of the Dreamwasted Plague.

Unnoticed, the silently advancing Dreamwasted formed a tightening circle around the Knights. Under the Pseudo-Moth’s protective ‘Shadow,’ they moved through alleys and over rooftops, closing the gap while the Knights wasted precious energy scanning with their ‘Lamp’ senses. Some Dreamwasted scrambled onto the warehouse roof, inching closer to the Captain from behind. Despite their reliance on abilities, the Knight Captain, forged by years of the Glorious Church’s rigorous discipline, possessed instinctually sharp senses. The faint, unnatural scraping sound behind him spun him around instantly, his flaming sword slashing towards the approaching figures.

Facing the ambush from the rear, the Captain struck without delay. Flames erupted from his blade, engulfing the advancing Dreamwasted. The withered husks crackled and blackened in the intense heat, emitting unnatural, choked cries. Such feeble puppets posed little threat even to a civilian, never mind a battle-hardened White Ash-tier warrior.

Yet, as the Captain incinerated the lead attackers, one Dreamwasted positioned slightly farther back, momentarily untouched by the fire, underwent a hideous transformation. As the searing heat neared it, its eyes suddenly blazed with silver light. A bone-chilling shriek tore from its throat. Silver cracks spiderwebbed across its skull, exploding into a blinding torrent of silver radiance. Then, as if seized by a colossal internal force, its head violently burst apart. From the intense silver glare blooming within the shattered skull, a massive translucent shape rocketed forth like a missile, hurling itself straight at the Captain, only steps away.

The returned Pseudo-Moth!

In an unforeseen twist, the monstrous being rematerialized from the light erupting within the exploited Dreamwasted’s head. Its ten-meter-long form abruptly reappeared in the midst of the conflict. Barely yards away, the Pseudo-Moth dove towards the flame-wielding Captain. At point-blank range, the Knight reacted with incredible speed, cutting off his fire stream to dodge. The distance was minimal, the attack too sudden. As the horror soared over him, a whip-like translucent tentacle lashed down, passing straight through his physical form. Overcome by a profound psychic assault as the appendage pierced him, the Captain’s eyes flew wide.

“Gah…”

Swept by powerful disorientation, the Captain dropped his burning sword, clutching his head as he collapsed onto the warehouse roof, his body wavering under waves of confusion. This dizziness was fleeting; moments later, staggering pain and crushing lethargy wracked his mind. Paralyzed, unable to fully comprehend what was happening, yet prevented from succumbing entirely to unconsciousness by his ingrained professional discipline, he exhibited only intense mental turmoil.

“Vidal!!” Jode roared, witnessing his comrade’s plight. Fury battled shock within him—rage at seeing a brother-in-arms struck down, astonishment at the creature’s abrupt reappearance.

But circumstance allowed no time for thought. With the aberrant monstrosity undeniably present again, immediate action was vital. Channeling furious zeal, Jode made the flame along his sword blaze with unmatched brilliance. He launched himself skyward, blade aimed to cleave the nightmare figure. Simultaneously, Santus on the ground began chanting the Benediction of Flesh, readying a holy strike.

At that precise instant, the newly manifested Pseudo-Moth shimmered, its form fading into ethereal translucence. A moment later, it vanished completely. Jode’s powerful leap and the sacred energies Santus summoned splashed uselessly against the empty night. Landing back on the roof, Jode stared blankly at the void, sheer bafflement etched on his face.

“Where… where did it disappear to now?”

“Beware! The fiend may have dimension-shifting powers! It could be cloaking itself within a catastrophic realm beyond ours, possibly using pathways of dimensional retreat to evade our attacks!”

Just as Jode searched helplessly, Monk Werner’s sharp voice cut through the confusion. Recognizing the underlying horror, he projected his voice urgently. Jode looked thunderstruck by the suggestion.

“Wh… what? Dimension-shifting?”

Even as Jode’s stunned question escaped him, the gruesome truth unfolded. At street level near the pair, within the shadowed recesses of a side-alley building, an already-unseen Dreamwasted screamed wretchedly. Then, with horrifying synchronicity, its head exploded in a crown of stark silver flame. The figure vanished utterly as, once more, a monstrous shape burst out from within it. Without pause, the monstrous Pseudo-Moth disregarded physical barriers, passing seamlessly through walls and structures as it surged towards Werner and Santus. Stunned by the sudden emergence, the pair tried to evade, but the distance left no time to react. Werner, stumbling backward, felt the ghostly touch of the creature’s spectral limb brush over his robe.

The monk recoiled instantly as a sickening wave of psychic impact radiated through him.

Instantly, Elder Werner shared his comrade’s fate. The Pseudo-Moth’s forceful presence subtly imposed its hypnotic command, violently overriding the monk’s deeply ingrained disciplinary resolve. It forced his mind into an agonizing equilibrium against the overwhelming demand for unconsciousness. This sudden disruption shattered the sacred injunction Werner had maintained earlier, causing it to fracture and dissolve. Without the shield of sacred discipline, the ambient, draining resonance constantly emanating from the Pseudo-Moth enacted its hypnosis at full strength.

As the hypnotic resonance took hold, the remaining conscious Knights of Saint War – Jode and Santus – felt wave after wave of irresistible, overpowering sleepiness surge through them despite their resistance. They fought inwardly against the horrific lethargy commanding their bodies to yield, waging a desperate battle with sheer willpower. Despite their struggle, their bodies betrayed their wills. Against determination fueled by hope and comradeship, they eventually folded, helpless resentment freezing on their faces as consciousness fled.

“Disaster… has… struck…”

Ultimately, under the Pseudo-Moth’s overwhelming hypnosis field and its spectral nightmare gate tactic that used the Dreamwasted as anchors in battle, the four Knights of the Brilliancy Fleet finally succumbed. Now all lay helplessly ensnared in deep slumber beyond their control. Without the constant defiance of these Knights, the entire Brilliancy Fleet, for which they served as mobile bulwarks… indeed Nawaha itself… had effectively become fresh prey for the Pseudo-Moth’s hunger.

“The sun’s fierce light can never overcome the dreams of night, fed by the hidden dread moths inspire.”
“Safe, fluttering flames draw the hungriest moths, who snuff out the light.”
“And now… our harvest commences…”

Within the secret underground ritual chamber, the gathered Black Dream Hunters murmured in unison, their minds linked to the collective subconscious that resonated with the monstrous Pseudo-Moth entity. Though formed through accelerated metamorphosis, its power was scarcely different from the Scarlet tier. This potency was undeniable; mere White Ash adversaries faced annihilation. Therefore, the current outcome brought them no surprise, only the satisfaction of expected inevitability.

With all visible threats incapacitated, the Pseudo-Moth began its primary purpose. Extending madness-laden appendages, its ghostly limbs settled upon the prone form of each knight scattered across the battlefield. As contact solidified, the mechanism guiding the core of their being – their Dream Cocoons soul projections – within the Dream Lands drew inexorably nearer to the Pseudo-Moth’s main form. Simultaneously, the Pseudo-Moth took charge in the metaphysical plane: a quartet of shimmering gateways manifested within an otherworldly grove marking the Dreamscape location.

Here, the lich-like will spawned wicked appendages, gliding effortlessly through each portal towards the motionless knights, revealing what lay beneath their enforced slumber: four swollen dream cocoons. Grasping these fragile spheres almost greedily within their spectral hold, they carried them towards the central aberration. Carefully, they placed the cocoons against its underbelly – an area covered in irregular patches of matting resembling clustered nests or embryonic plots. Soon, they would extract all inner essence, slowly draining them of vital energy. Once emptied, the Knights would perish, joining the ranks of endless puppets – hosts among the fraudulent undead, future physical gateways for their horrific master.

Having psychically gorged on the desolate contents of those stray minds, the Pseudo-Moth sensed its next source. The ships anchored in the harbor registered in the dreamscape unlike mere humans – far more enticing vessels.

**CRACK!**

Suddenly… a brilliant arc of honed light sliced the darkness. From within one deeply shadowed street, a crescent-shaped beam of light tore upwards. Unerringly, it struck the ascending Pseudo-Moth as it moved towards the distant fleet, punching a small but distinct hole through its wing. Jolted by the abrupt impact, the Pseudo-Moth broke off its course. Abandoning its path to the fleet, it turned its malevolent focus towards the source of the destructive noise: the street where the strike had originated.

“Another extraordinary?”
“What… what was that light?”

Voices shared within the dream-enthralled minds of the Black Dream Hunters probed with astonishment from below, guiding the creature through their shared perception towards the obstruction. Directing its senses to the identified spot, they saw… a coach.

This simple sight baffled them more than anything prior. Along that specific road lay nothing but oppressive darkness, save this ordinary city carriage. Pulled by seemingly hypnotic-proof horses? The occupants were obvious. Whatever had fired the light blast moments before had almost simultaneously concealed itself – cabin curtains firmly drawn as the occupant retreated inside after the attack. The threat clearly came from within, attacking then hastily hiding.

Without delay, its next move shocked observers further: disregarding normal perception, the Pseudo-Moth closed the distance in an instant, effortlessly bypassing obstacles, and appeared directly above the carriage roof. A swift touch revealed the deception: its tentacles pierced the wooden shell easily, contacting the life within.

“Target located…”
“Who matters not… rank matters not… join the sleep like the others…”
“This hour demands only surrender…”

With physical contact made above, its greater psychic counterpart – anchored in the other dimension known as the Dream Lands – proceeded with its orchestrated routine. Starting with the strongest prey: the standing watcher resting mere yards away.

Empowered by contact beyond life, the Pseudo-Moth exerted its signature overwhelming power: commanding slumber with irresistible force. Seeing the team of horses suddenly slump lifelessly suggested the occupant was easily subdued.

Routine followed: within the Dream Lands grove, the hovering entity extended a single tendril downward. Spectral limbs coiled within ephemeral gates, aimed at the location matching the coach rider’s cocoon. With inhuman speed, the tentacle lunged to seize its prize – eager to add to the earlier feast.

Beings ignited by divine essences fueled far richer dreams than humans could.

But, at the very point of infiltration… something changed violently.

The hovering aberration began convulsing violently in mid-air, shuddering uncontrollably as if the limb thrust beyond the veil had been smashed to pieces. The remaining tentacle – now agonizingly severed – snapped back violently, flailing wildly in the space around it, frantically searching for an unseen threat.

“What’s happening?!”
“The Scaled Moth is under attack inside! Impossible!”
“Something is coming out of the Gate!”

Sensing immeasurable danger, the entity sought instant distance, trying to withdraw the spiritual reserves stabilizing the nightmare gate framework itself. It unified both minds internally in panic.

But it was far too late.

Beyond the unstable boundaries between worlds… as if breached… radiated immense draconian pressure.

The severed tentacle had barely recoiled before…

A savage roar, unlike any earthly thunder, erupted from the Dream Gate’s center – echoing so profoundly in reality that it shook the surrounding aether. Rather than collapse, the gate warped grotesquely, straining against both worlds as if…

…a passage was being forced open?

From beyond the distorted gateway emerged a titanic muzzle – scales glittering brilliantly even within the portal’s gloom. Eyes that pierced the veil followed – predatory golden slits locking sharply onto the quivering Pseudo-Moth like an apex predator sighting helpless prey. Suddenly, scales shifted as unimaginable forces surged beyond the doorway; immense wings unfurled from the darkness behind the monstrous snout; claws sharpened to slay specters raked across dimensional boundaries heedlessly.

Hovering within the lush grove, the creature squeezed impossibly through the portal, now stretched many times its original size. Towering larger than the Pseudo-Moth, the dragon took tangible form – manifesting peerless stature. Without hesitation, it hurtled towards the aberrant monstrosity.

“Impossible! A Dragon! One of the Eager Lords soaring within Habmahalean!” Psyche shattered, the enemy beyond reason turned to flee desperately. Yet, within the confines of the Dream Lands grove, escape was pitifully slow. Within seconds, overwhelming mass overtook the panicked prey. Descending from directly above, a pair of immense draconic claws seized the monstrosity firmly. Instantly, colossal wings folded tightly against flawless scales. Yielding no leverage, the monster found itself powerless to break the grip – driven downward towards the ground in a contest of strength utterly beyond it.

Together they plummeted with inconceivable force. Controlled descent became a terminal plunge as momentum shattered all reason, impacting the grove floor with the violence of colliding worlds.

**BOOOM!!**

Foliage exploded skyward everywhere. Soil flew in massive clumps above shattered roots. At the epicenter of the tremors, an outline was faintly visible – a twisted form crushed utterly beyond recognition within an immense crater. The remnants of partially digested dream cocoons burst violently outward as pressure released, spilling onto the now barren ground in a fleeting mockery of freedom.

Simultaneously, in the realm far below bearing no resemblance to ghostly marvels… the namesake servitor Jode smiled.
“Dragon…” he breathed slowly within the dream state.