After an unknown amount of time, **Evan Walker** finally woke up.
> "That felt like such a long dream... What was it? I can't remember..." Evan murmured to himself.
> "You're finally awake, human."
A voice suddenly echoed in his mind, startling him.
> "Who's there?" Evan looked around, confused. He found himself in a tiny enclosed space, no more than two meters across, surrounded by thick curtains.
> "No need to look around. I'm inside your body," the voice replied—this time, directly inside his mind.
The voice sounded strangely familiar.
He paused, thinking for a moment—then his eyes widened.
> "Nightmare Lord?"
> "That's right. I'm also… **your master**," the Nightmare Lord said, his voice still radiating intimidating pressure.
> "Huh?"
After a tense conversation, Evan gradually pieced together the situation.
> "So, let me get this straight," Evan began slowly.
> "While you were trying to devour me, you were weak and got caught in some kind of space-time turbulence. You were badly injured, and in order to survive, you had to attach yourself to my soul. Now, we've become… some kind of 'Symbiotic Spirit Body'?
> You want to regain your power by feeding on dream energy from others in the Nightmare Realm… but you're too weak to open it yourself… and you *need* me to do it?"
> "That's about right," the Nightmare Lord acknowledged.
> "..." Evan fell silent for a moment. Then, deadpan, he said,
> "In that case, shouldn't you be calling *me* master?"
> "Ah—**foolish human!** Who do you think you're talking to?! I am the great Nightmare Lord! *Mind your tone!*"
> "But let's be honest," Evan retorted, "you're powerless right now, and *you* need *me.* Doesn't that make me the one in charge?"
> "Without me, you'd be dead! You ought to thank the Nightmare Lord for his mercy!"
> "And if I die *now*, you die too."
> "Are you *threatening* me?"
> "Are *you* threatening *me*?"
> "Aagh! The torment—!"
Suddenly, both of them were struck by searing pain—not in the body, but in the very depths of their souls. Evan screamed unintentionally—and the Nightmare Lord screamed too.
> "Enough! Call it off! We're just torturing ourselves!"
> "Agreed—this is pointless!"
And so, the two struck a temporary truce.
Evan agreed to call the voice *"Nightmare Lord"*, while the Nightmare Lord, a little grumpy but still egotistical, settled on calling Evan simply *"Boy."*
Despite the bickering, they both understood something crucial—there were bigger things to worry about.
The Nightmare Lord's body had been destroyed. His soul nearly vanished. Now, bound to Evan's spirit, he was barely hanging on, and had lost most of his original power.
Meanwhile, Evan's current form in the real world was that of a **spirit body**—a fragile, unstable form. Unfortunately, the real world lacked sufficient spiritual energy to sustain him. If this form broke apart, only his soul would remain… and that meant **certain death**.
The only solution was **to create a nightmare environment quickly**, and draw in "food"—humans or other intelligent beings—into the Nightmare Realm. Even animals and plants could provide energy, but **only a fraction** compared to intelligent life.
The Nightmare Lord was capable of converting all kinds of emotional energy—fear, grief, anger—into sustenance. Pain and fear were especially nourishing.
> "Because you're carrying me," the Nightmare Lord explained, "you'll quickly understand how to *use* the power of nightmares."
> "The fastest method is to drag people into the Nightmare Realm and torment them… *to death*."
> "The anguish-fueled energy that emerges from such suffering… it's delicious. A true gourmet's meal."
He sounded like he'd done this countless times before.
> "That's horrifying... You actually *enjoy* this?" Evan asked, disturbed.
> "By the way, what happens to the people who get pulled in? Are there any... side effects?"
> "Side effects?" The Nightmare Lord seemed to pause. "Well... yes. If a person dies too many times in the Nightmare Realm, they may *actually die*."
> "What??"
> "The Nightmare Realm is a unique space… something like a bridge between the physical world and the soul realm. When people die in that space, their souls take actual damage. The more painful the death, the greater the damage. If it piles up… their soul becomes irreparably broken."
> "…But in such cases, the [food] produced is of… *exquisite quality*..." the Nightmare Lord added casually.
> "Didn't you say you could extract energy from emotions? It doesn't *have* to involve death and torment…" Evan said, a cold sweat forming on his brow.
> "Tch. Such naivety. Yes, emotional energy works… but a few dead ants are the quickest path to revival."
At that moment, a **clear, female voice** rang out from nearby.
> "I'm back!"
> "Who's that?" Evan asked instantly.
> "Food No. 1," the Nightmare Lord replied flatly.
> "What?!"
*To be continued...*