Truman seemed to be lost in a long, endless dream.
The dreamscape, as enchanting as a fairy tale, held him captive, unwilling to awaken.
Yet, at a certain moment, a serene and tranquil sensation washed over him, like the radiant stars in a velvet night sky—eternal and peaceful.
Truman awoke, his gaze sharpening as he turned toward the source of that tranquil power. It emanated from a hundred-meter-tall hill, crowned with a cluster of temple-like structures. The people of this city-state called it the Deep Dark Acropolis.
Surrounding the Deep Dark Acropolis were countless Night Vanilla and Deep Sleep Flowers, their blooms encircling a towering statue at the summit.
Truman joined the procession of devotees heading toward it. It was midnight, the sacred hour when the followers of the Deep Dark offered their prayers.
"Phew!" Truman took a deep breath amidst the Night Vanilla and Deep Sleep Flowers. The fresh, delicate fragrance invigorated his spirit. "The power of sleeplessness!"
This was why he had come to pray to the Goddess!
"Misfortune be upon us!" Many devotees, enveloped in the serene atmosphere, prayed to the entity that protected this city-state. Truman was no exception.
He found an inconspicuous corner, far from the others, and took out a Book of Dreams.
This was a mysterious tome containing all beautiful dreams and visions, resplendent with countless vibrant colors, indescribably magnificent.
The Book of Dreams, symbolizing the realization of dreams.
This was the name Truman had given it, perfectly fitting its essence.
Its existence allowed Truman to achieve a state of psychological, even fateful, invisibility.
This was Truman's innate companion, imbued with dreamlike abilities. At this moment, he prayed in the Giant Language.
"The Evernight Goddess stands higher than the cosmos
and more eternal than eternity. The Lady of Crimson, The Mother of Concealment, The Empress of Misfortune and Horror,
Mistress of Repose and Silence."
In this era, this three-part honorific typically pointed to the Demonic Wolf of Destruction, the entity that truly wielded the authority of the Night.
Yet, under the phosphorescent glow of the Book of Dreams, everything was distorted, redirected toward the statue before him.
Truman ceased his prayer and waited briefly. An boundless darkness descended, and he closed his eyes, following the flow of this power.
To the devotees of the Deep Dark, the statue of the Goddess seemed to transform, becoming softer, more real.
Truman vanished, like a faded sketch erased by an eraser. When he reappeared, he stood before a majestic, rugged temple.
A figure emerged from the depths of the darkness, as if descending from the stars or the crimson moon.
She wore a flowing, shadowy robe adorned with countless radiant sparkles, as if a segment of the starry sky had been woven into fabric.
Her face was hazy yet exquisitely beautiful, her eyes gleaming like stars in the night sky.
"You've finally arrived, Pure One," the Goddess said, her voice tinged with amusement.
Truman sighed softly. "My condition is getting worse."
He had crossed into this era of warring ancient gods and rampant mythical creatures over a month ago, arriving in this Deep Dark City with the Book of Dreams.
It was a perilous situation. Back then, he stood out starkly in this ancient city-state, nearly sent to the stake by the Deep Dark devotees.
In this city controlled by the Goddess of Misfortune, his arrival as a transmigrator was immediately noticed.
"If it weren't for the Book of Dreams, I'd probably have been devoured by you!" Truman grumbled inwardly.
He didn't know how long the Goddess had been present, but as a Sequence 1 being or even a grounded angel, supported by the fervent faith of the entire Deep Dark City, her humanity was questionable at best.
For some reason, the Goddess had even revealed her own "transmigrator" status, treating Truman as a fellow outsider. Now, she was about to obtain what she desired from him.
"And this 'Pure One' title, really…" Truman shook his head. The Goddess smiled silently, waiting patiently, as tranquil as the darkness itself.
Perhaps due to the Book of Dreams, or because he truly came from beyond the cosmos, his body and soul were unimaginably pure and untainted.
Even the potions he concocted based on memories left no trace on his body. After drinking them, they would actively condense and separate from him!
This was a major setback!
The only consolation was that his body and mind, while rejecting potions, also repelled the madness and indifference inherent to this world's essence.
This was precisely what the Goddess needed.
"Have you found the cause of my drowsiness?" Truman asked, getting to the point.
For over a month in the Deep Dark City, he had spent two-thirds of his time asleep!
This drowsiness was growing terrifying, to the point of eternal slumber.
"It's definitely related to the Book of Dreams," the Goddess replied, her voice gentle and calm.
"The Book of Dreams, huh," Truman nodded slightly. He hadn't fully understood it himself. The book was deeply bound to him, and others, including the Goddess, couldn't even touch it, let alone study its contents.
"I'll agree to your proposal and form a contract with you, allowing you to use the Book of Dreams to stabilize your mental state," Truman said after a moment of silence, looking at the Goddess.
"Thank you!" The Goddess thanked him solemnly, speaking in Chinese pronunciation. As Truman expected, her mental state was also unstable. Being a grounded angel hadn't caused her to lose herself entirely, but the madness and indifference were deeply ingrained.
"No need to thank me. I also need your power of sleeplessness," Truman replied. He had come to complete this transaction: he would help stabilize the Goddess's mental state, and in return, she would alleviate his drowsiness, preventing him from falling into eternal sleep.
The power of Sleeplessness, though unremarkable in the Goddess's hands, was now Truman's lifeline.
Truman took out the Book of Dreams and gently opened a page.
"Could this be related to dragons?" the Goddess suddenly asked.
At this point, she was not yet the Night Goddess who would orchestrate plans across millennia, and her grasp of certain mystical knowledge might not surpass Truman's.
"The Dragon of Imagination?" With the dual protection of secrecy and the Book of Dreams, they dared to mention this entity.
"No," Truman shook his head slowly. The dream-realizing power of the Book of Dreams was similar to the authority of imagination but fundamentally different.
Truman tapped the page lightly, and instantly, endless, fantastical rays of light surged forth, revealing shimmering bubbles of dreamlike colors.
The Goddess's spirituality transformed into motes of light, landing on the Book of Dreams.
In that instant, Truman seemed to pierce through the fog, glimpsing something. His mind flashed with the Goddess's face—cold to the extreme, devoid of humanity, radiating only utter indifference and madness, as if she might tear his body to shreds in the next moment.
He realized that all her calm words had been spoken in this state of madness.
This was Truman's first encounter with the world's mad essence. Suddenly, a wave of insanity surged, threatening to overwhelm him. His vision filled with blood-red and black, writhing like flesh, with distorted tentacles lashing the air.
Yet the phosphorescent glow of the Book of Dreams flickered, spreading a sense of wondrous, bizarre, and even absurd beauty.
The two forces clashed but eventually settled into calm.
The essence of madness remained unchanged but was pacified within the dream, no longer restless.
On the Goddess, this manifested as a retreat of her madness and indifference. She finally showed a faint smile.
Her form shifted, star-like glimmers falling from her dark robe. From her ribs and waist, four sturdy wolf legs covered in black fur extended, blending divinity and eeriness, tranquility and savagery in perfect harmony.
This was the true Goddess of Misfortune!
"I'm not mad," the Goddess said with a smile, the air growing livelier, starlight dancing like a serene night sky.
For the first time, Truman sensed a trace of humanity in her.
"Your power is truly remarkable," the Goddess said cautiously. If possible, she might have kept Truman close to harness this power for herself.
Unfortunately, the Book of Dreams was too bizarre. Even she, one of the strongest below the ancient gods, couldn't approach it!
Moreover, Truman, wielding the Book of Dreams, was enough to make her wary.
A badge appeared in the Goddess's hand, dark with radiant flecks, resembling a familiar design but missing half a crimson moon.
"This is the Divinity of Sleeplessness. It connects to me and allows you to borrow my power," she said, handing it to Truman.
Truman's eyes lit up. Upon taking the badge, a chilling wave of spirituality surged into his body, like a cold drink on a sweltering day. He shivered, feeling refreshed.
"It works well," Truman said, satisfied. At the very least, he wouldn't sleep eternally now.
"Transaction complete," the Goddess nodded lightly, her mood visibly improved.
Truman was also in high spirits. His fear of sleep, of sinking forever into the beauty of dreams, was indescribable. Now, that problem was resolved.
"…That honorific from before?" the Goddess suddenly asked.
Considering the title of "Empress," it clearly referred to her!
Truman closed the Book of Dreams, thought for a moment, then bowed slightly and recited with reverence:
"This is the honorific I composed for you:
"The Evernight Goddess stands higher than the cosmos
and more eternal than eternity. The Lady of Crimson, The Mother of Concealment, The Empress of Misfortune and Horror,
Mistress of Repose and Silence."
"I am your pontiff, Saint Truman."
Ha! Teasing the Goddess? Truly unexpected !
Looking at this "fellow transmigrator" who called himself her pontiff and recited an honorific that stirred a faint connection in her, the Goddess couldn't hold back her amusement.
Having met many times and now bound by this transaction with a degree of trust and friendship, being teased by someone she could call a friend felt… peculiar.
At this moment, the Goddess of the Night was at her most human, her emotions at their richest.
But a goddess is a goddess. Her expression remained unchanged, giving Truman a soft rebuff.
Truman raised an eyebrow. With the shackles of eternal sleep lifted, he naturally wanted to have some fun.
He tapped the Book of Dreams, transforming it into a Revelation of the Night, its black cover dotted with stars.
"…And God said, 'Let there be light'… God walked upon the waters…"
(End of Chapter)