(Yuuta POV – Nightmare)
"Erza…"
Her name slipped out of my mouth before I even realized I was calling for her.
I was standing in the middle of an endless ocean, the water stretching far beyond what my eyes could follow. There was no sky above me, only a heavy darkness that pressed down like a lid on the world. The sea itself was unnaturally still, its surface smooth and black, reflecting nothing at all.
Strangely, I wasn't sinking.
I looked down at my feet, half-expecting them to disappear beneath the water, but the surface held firm as if it were solid ground. A cold shiver ran up my spine.
"…Is this heaven?" I muttered, rubbing my chin. "No… that can't be right."
The silence felt wrong. Too perfect. Too empty.
I took a slow breath, trying to calm myself. This has to be a dream, I told myself. Nothing makes sense enough for it to be real.
That was when the water beneath me moved.
At first, it was barely noticeable—a soft tremor, like a distant heartbeat traveling through the sea. Small bubbles rose to the surface, popping quietly at my feet. I froze and stared downward, my reflection distorted by the ripples.
"…A whale?" I asked uncertainly, forcing a weak laugh. "Hey, if you're going to show up, at least warn me first."
There was no answer.
Instead, the presence below began to rise.
A dark shape appeared beneath the water, faint and blurry at first. It was small—about the size of a car—floating just under the surface. I leaned forward, squinting, trying to make sense of it.
Then it grew.
The shadow expanded slowly, stretching wider, longer, heavier. In seconds, it was the size of a house. Then a building. Then something closer to an island. My mouth went dry as I took an instinctive step back.
"That's… not normal," I whispered.
The water swelled violently.
Without warning, the sea exploded upward, and a towering wall of water surged into the air. I was thrown back by the force, my body spinning helplessly before I slammed down onto the surface of the ocean.
"Ouch…!" I groaned, clutching my head as pain throbbed through my skull. "Since when do dreams hurt this much?"
I pushed myself up slowly, my heart pounding as I forced myself to look again.
The creature had fully emerged.
It was enormous—so large that my eyes struggled to trace its shape from beginning to end. Its body rose like a living mountain, blocking what little sense of direction the world had left. Just standing before it made me feel small, fragile, and painfully aware of how insignificant I was.
My breath caught in my throat.
Fear crawled up my spine, twisting my expression as my legs refused to move. I knew, logically, that this was a dream—but standing there, facing something so vast and overwhelming, that thought offered no comfort at all.
For the first time since the nightmare began, a terrifying realization settled into my chest.
I might not be safe here.
And whatever that thing was…
…it was looking straight at me.
The creature was enormous.
Its body stretched across the dark sea like an endless centipede, segmented and armored, each movement sending ripples across the water. Yet its head was nothing like an insect's. A massive jaw, wide and ancient like that of a leviathan, rested above the surface, capable of swallowing mountains whole. It was a monster—undeniably so—born from something that should never exist.
But it was the eyes that terrified me the most.
They were vast, glowing faintly in the darkness, and when they focused on me, my entire body began to shake. Fear wrapped around my chest so tightly that breathing became difficult. Every instinct screamed that I should run, that standing before such a being meant death.
And yet…
Something was wrong.
Beneath that overwhelming terror, I felt it—a warmth. A strange, gentle kindness that did not belong in a creature like this. The gaze fixed on me was not hostile. It wasn't hungry. It wasn't cruel.
It was… soft.
I stood frozen, unable to move, as a tear formed in one of its massive eyes. The droplet fell slowly, heavy enough to be seen even from where I stood, and when it struck the ocean's surface, it sent quiet ripples spreading outward.
The creature continued to look at me, its expression filled with something painfully human.
Then, slowly, its form began to fade.
Not violently. Not in fear.
It disappeared gently, piece by piece, as if the world itself were releasing it. Its colossal body dissolved into the air, thinning like mist under sunlight. Watching it vanish felt unreal, like witnessing something sacred reach its end.
As it faded, its voice reached me—low, distant, yet clear enough to shake my heart.
"I am happy to see you, my prince."
There was no bitterness in those words. No regret. Only relief.
With a final, almost grateful presence, the creature vanished completely, ascending into nothingness, as though drifting toward heaven itself.
The ocean returned to silence.
And then I woke up.
My chest rose sharply as I gasped for breath, my vision blurred as I stared at the ceiling. A strange heaviness lingered in my heart, and before I could stop myself, I felt tears sliding down the side of my face.
I didn't know why I was crying.
I didn't know who that creature truly was.
That was when I noticed Elena.
She was sitting nearby, watching me with wide, curious eyes, her small hands resting on the blanket. There was no fear in her expression—only innocent concern, the kind that made my chest tighten without warning.
"Papa," she asked softly, "are you crying?"
Her words caught me off guard.
"Crying?" I repeated, instinctively lifting my hand to my face. I quickly wiped away the moisture at the corner of my eyes and forced a weak smile. "No, my daughter. I wasn't crying."
I looked away for a moment, then back at her.
"I just… had a dream," I added, trying to sound casual.
"A dream?" Elena repeated, tilting her head slightly, her brows knitting together in confusion.
She studied me for a second, then asked in the simplest, most innocent tone imaginable,
"You can see dreams, Papa?"
The question hit me harder than anything I had seen in that nightmare.
I froze.
"What kind of question is that?" I said, letting out a small laugh that sounded far more strained than I intended. "Don't joke like that, Elena. Everyone in this world sees dreams."
Elena didn't laugh back.
Instead, she shook her head slowly.
"Elena saw dreams before," she said quietly. "But Mama told me not to anymore."
My heart skipped.
"What…?" I murmured, staring at her. "What do you mean by that?"
Before she could say anything else, confusion and anger tangled together inside me. I raised my voice without meaning to, calling out down the hallway.
"Erza!"
My voice echoed through the house, sharper than I intended.
"Erza, come here! Now!"
Footsteps followed soon after. Erza appeared at the top of the staircase, completely unfazed, holding a toothbrush in one hand and a cup in the other. Her hair was slightly messy, her expression calm to the point of irritation.
"Why," she said coldly, words slightly muffled around the toothbrush, "are you screaming this early in the morning, mortal?"
My heart skipped.
I straightened instantly, panic rising for reasons I couldn't fully explain.
"Erza," I said quickly, "answer me something."
She narrowed her eyes.
"…What."
I swallowed, then blurted out the question that had been clawing at my mind since I woke up.
"Do dragons dream?"
Erza let out a long sigh, the kind that carried quiet irritation, as if I had just asked something unbelievably obvious.
"Of course dragons can dream," she said flatly.
Her answer didn't calm me. If anything, it only made the knot in my chest tighten.
"Then why Elena can't see dream," I asked, struggling to keep my voice steady, "Why..would you put restrictions on her?"
I gestured toward Elena without realizing it.
"She listens to everything you teach her, Erza. And because of that, she can't even see beautiful dreams anymore."
Erza placed a hand against her forehead, as though preparing herself for a lecture she had given far too many times.
"Listen," she said. "A dragon's brain is different from a human's. We do have dream cycles, but dragons do not sleep the way you do. One half of our brain rests for six hours while the other remains alert, and then they switch. That is how we sleep for more than twelve hours without becoming vulnerable."
She looked at Elena briefly before continuing.
"If a dragon fully shuts down both halves of the brain—which is rare—we will dream. But that kind of sleep is dangerous. A sleeping dragon is helpless. Like a dead cat. That is why we sleep this way. To avoid being killed."
I stared at her in disbelief.
"What the hell is this?" I snapped before I could stop myself. "This sounds like complete nonsense. I've heard something similar in a dolphin documentary, and now you're telling me dragons do the same thing?"
I ran a hand through my hair, frustration boiling over.
"This is ridiculous. You're taking something beautiful away from a child. Dreams aren't weakness, Erza. They're part of being alive."
"I know what you're thinking," she replied calmly. "But my world does not work the way yours does. In my world, strength decides everything. One mistake—one moment of lowered guard—can cost your life. We cannot afford comfort."
She straightened slightly.
"That is why Elena was taught to sleep the Atlantis way from a young age."
I shook my head, anger and confusion mixing together.
"But you're the strongest," I said. "You have an army. You have power. Then why does Elena have to suffer like this? What's the point of being an overpowering creature if you can't even protect your own child?"
For a brief moment, Erza's expression shifted.
Then she placed her hand against her head again and spoke in a low, controlled tone.
"That is why I say you are ignorant," she said. "Comfort kills survival instincts. In my kingdom, Elena is a candidate for the throne. There are children—many of them—who would devour her without hesitation. She has to learn how to protect herself."
Her words felt heavy, suffocating.
"And Grandpa?" I asked quietly. "Why does he sleep like he's sold all his horses and doesn't care about the world?"
Erza exhaled slowly.
"Male dragons and female dragons are not treated the same," she said. "Females carry more power and more responsibility. From a young age, they are targeted. Males are considered secondary."
Her eyes hardened.
"Elena must learn the way of female dragons. And because she is royal, she must be even more careful than the rest."
The room fell silent.
I looked at Elena again, small and quiet, listening without fully understanding the weight of what was being said.
And for the first time, I truly realized just how cruel Erza's world was—and how deeply that cruelty had already begun to shape our daughter.
I clenched my fists slowly, my nails biting into my palms as a quiet anger welled up inside me.
"…I don't think this is fair," I said at last. My voice came out rougher than I intended. "No—this is worse than unfair. It's morally wrong."
Erza didn't interrupt. She simply watched me, her crimson eyes steady and unreadable.
"Taking dreams away from a child…" I swallowed hard. "That's not survival. That's cruelty. Dreams are the one place where fear can't reach. Snatching that away is horrifying."
For a moment, the room felt heavier, as if the air itself had thickened.
Erza finally spoke.
"I know why you're angry," she said calmly. "But anger does not give you the right to reshape the world."
I lifted my head and met her gaze.
"If I wanted to," I replied, "I wouldn't care whether I had the right or not."
A faint laugh escaped her lips—not mocking, not amused. It was distant, almost tired.
"If wanting something were enough," she said, "the dragon world would have been saved long ago."
"Don't laugh," I said sharply. "Do you really think I can't change your world?"
She shook her head once, slowly.
"No. I don't underestimate you," Erza said. "But you don't understand what it means to live there."
She stepped closer, her presence pressing down on me like invisible weight.
"Survive one month in my world," she continued. "Just one. If you do, I will grant you any wish you desire. That is how brutal it is. That is how many fail."
Silence followed her words.
I straightened my back, my fear slowly giving way to resolve.
"You're wrong," I said quietly. "You underestimate humans."
She raised an eyebrow.
"We survived with nothing," I continued. "Sticks. Fire. Fear. We built civilizations in a world that tried to kill us every day. Do you really think we can't endure yours?"
Erza studied my face for a long time, as if searching for doubt.
"…Very well," she said at last.
"Mr. Human. We will see about that."
I let out a quiet breath and allowed myself a small, restrained smile. For now, at least, I had survived.
"Oh, by the way," I added casually, glancing at her as if it were an afterthought, "did you know we received an invitation from the Gilgal New Life Church?"
Her reaction was immediate.
"…What did you just say?" Erza asked, her eyes widening ever so slightly.
"I said we got an invitation," I repeated, unable to hide my excitement. "From Gilgal New Life Church."
She stared at me, disbelief flashing across her face.
"That makes no sense," she said sharply. "When I approached them before, they rejected us immediately. They said they don't choose people just because they have money."
I shrugged. "Hmm. I don't know."
She crossed her arms, her gaze narrowing.
"Then when did they call us for the test?"
"Casually?" I said. "Eleven a.m. today."
For a moment, Erza said nothing.
Then she smiled.
It wasn't a warm smile. Her eyes darkened, shadows pooling beneath them as her aura began to leak out uncontrollably. She glanced at the clock, then back at me.
"Yuuta," she said, slowly, cracking her knuckles.
My soul attempted to leave my body.
"When did you know about this?" she asked.
I swallowed.
That explained it—why I'd been irritated all morning. The time was already eight a.m., and we were absolutely not ready.
"My lovely, terrifying wife," I began carefully, choosing my words like stepping through a minefield, "I did try to tell you yesterday, but you choked me and threw me into the wall and—"
She clenched her fist harder.
"And?"
"And… I fell asleep," I finished, rubbing my cheek with one finger.
The silence that followed was deadly.
"YOU IDIOT MORTAL!!!"
The roar shook the entire house.
To be continued…