A dull longsword and a heartbroken villager

"Papa, draw." She was waiting for Bray to start drawing.

Bray couldn't dissuade Nia, so he had no choice but to start writing.

When he held the crayon in his hand, for some reason, he thought of many, many things.

He seemed to have a dream while he was sleeping in the hammock.

It seems to be a dream from a very long time ago, a dream that I am very familiar with.

It's similar to my own life, but also a little different.

Unlike my ordinary life, that dream's experiences were wonderful, but they didn't inspire envy or longing.

He preferred this simple, ordinary life to that kind of existence.

However, the memory of that dream was also very vague to me; "that" was not so easy to recall.

Some confusing days, some complicated stories.

He then picked up his pen and drew some lovely fragments from his hazy memories.

"Ah, babble, what are you drawing?" Nia exclaimed in surprise when she saw that Bree had drawn three large lizards.

"Right, you drew a dragon? Have you ever seen one?" Naruko poked her head over and asked in confusion after seeing the three large lizards.

She and Bray had always been on adventures, but they had never encountered a legendary creature like a dragon.

“I’ve dreamt about him, and he often plays with us,” Bray said irritably.

“Then I’ll do it too!” Naruko rolled up her sleeves and drew many white birds on them.

She felt that drawing a few birds wasn't enough, so she added a big sun.

"What are you drawing..." Bray was too lazy to even complain about Naruko.

At least he was drawing things from his dreams, but what is Naruko drawing?

But this guy's drawing skills are ten times better than both mine and Nia's...

"Can Levy try it?" Levy wagged her tail rapidly.

“Levy, come here.” Nia handed the crayons to Levy with great interest.

Her own daughter adored this older sister and would share everything with Levy.

Levy, with her severely animalistic little hands, barely managed to grasp the crayon and then began to draw on it little by little.

A house and a tree were added to the drawing paper just like that.

And so, a somewhat messy drawing was born.

Unfortunately, a mischievous gust of wind easily rolled up the paper on the ground and sent it high into the air.

"Whoa, the painting is flying away!" Naruko blinked and said to Bray.

Levy wanted to jump up and grab the painting, but after glancing at the sharp claws on both sides, she decided to give up.

"Bang, bang!" Nia tugged at Bray's clothes anxiously, almost bursting into tears.

Left with no other choice, Bray ran toward the drawing paper.

Sorry, Bray can't fly, and he doesn't have the skill to grab the drawing paper from a distance, so he can only chase after it on his own two legs.

"How lame..." Naruko thought that Bray could jump up and grab the drawing paper with a "smack".

"Well, where is Baba going?" Nia asked blankly, watching Bree's receding figure.

"Ah, I don't know, maybe we'll have to go to the other side of the world?" Naruko said uncertainly. Bray felt a sense of helplessness.

The drawing paper drifted very far and flew very fast, making it difficult to catch up.

To be honest, halfway through the pursuit, he considered giving up and not continuing to chase the painting.

However, he then remembered that the painting was done by his daughter, so there was no reason not to pursue it.

But normally, how could this piece of paper be blown so far away? It's not a kite.

If this paper were to fly at this pace, it might actually land in the river.

People die when they are killed, so paper will get wet when it falls into the river.

I don't know how to explain it to Nia then. She might cry uncontrollably.

Honestly, what's the point of reasoning with a child...

"So tired..." Because it was early spring, Bray was dressed rather lightly.

Despite this, he was still drenched in sweat after running a long distance.

Fortunately, I have been hunting for many years, so my physical strength is not too bad. If it were me ten years ago, I wouldn't have been able to chase for so long or so fast.

The voices of people in the town came from the trees on both sides, all of which were covered with pink flowers.

If Naruko saw these fluttering flowers, she would definitely start dancing on the street.

Bray walked past one person after another walking on the road.

Some of the passersby had their heads down, looking absent-minded, as if no one, except for Bree, cared about the fluttering flowers.

After all, these sights are already commonplace for them.

However, it is when things we take for granted disappear that we feel the deepest regret.

He was dressed in simple clothes and kept running, but the sun in the sky seemed to have no intention of moving an inch.

Bray ran very, very far, but he still couldn't catch up with the painting.

The painting remained at a certain distance from Bray, drifting leisurely in the sky.

It neither flew up nor landed, but floated steadily.

How long did he run around? Probably still an hour.

However, he himself did not realize this, as if he had not run for an hour, but only for a minute.

There was definitely something off about the things, but Bray just couldn't pinpoint exactly what was wrong.

On the contrary, everything around was so gentle and peaceful.

"Thump!" Just as Bray was engrossed in chasing the painting, he accidentally fell down a slope.

"Splash!" He rolled several times on the slope and, propelled by inertia, plunged directly into the river.

Bray poked his head out of the water and took a deep breath.

He wiped away the water that was obstructing his view and looked around, trying to find out where the painting had flown to.

Because he had chased it for so long just to barely keep his distance, if he fell like this, he might lose track of the painting.

But perhaps to put Bray at ease, the painting finally fell from the sky and hung on a tree by the river.

The tree branch got stuck on the painting, so it didn't look like it would fly away anytime soon.

Of course, it's possible that a sudden strong gust of wind might blow it away to who-knows-where.

Bray swam helplessly toward the riverbank, his clothes soaked through and he felt very uncomfortable.

But after he swam across the river, he suddenly realized that the scenery in front of him was a little different.

What was once a normal town scene has been transformed into ruins.

Bray instinctively turned his head to look back, and behind him, the road still led to the beautiful town.

It is my hometown, Newham.

This painting was hung on a dead tree, a tree that could die completely at any moment.

No, perhaps it is already dead; what remains on the ground is merely its shell.

The land behind the tree was barren, devoid of any life.

There was no smoke of gunpowder, only dirt, rubble, and bones.

Before Bray lay a completely dead earth.

What kind of place is this...?

He turned his head repeatedly to check the scenery behind him, and even swam back and then came back again.

“…” Bray stared blankly at the strange sky after crossing the river.

When he returned, everything remained peaceful, and the area around him appeared vibrant with life.

However, when he arrived, everything was dead.

The sky here is exactly the same as I had imagined before; it's a mixture of colors, with shades of blue and purple.

The only color missing is azure.

It was a strange world, but strangely, he didn't feel unfamiliar with it, and he didn't even feel surprised.

A railcar inexplicably sped past from behind, making a "buzzing" noise.

He had taken countless risks by riding the railcar.

On the bus, each journey is long, yet leisurely.

As the noise subsided, the railcar and the tracks behind Bray vanished without a trace.

Only one "passenger" remained.

“You will eventually end up in a place like this.” Whiteface said quietly, standing behind Bray.

“…” Bray did not answer Whiteface immediately, but instead climbed the tree and took the painting down.

It seems like Bray didn't do anything just now, but the sun has already set, and his soaked clothes have dried without him even noticing.

He rolled up the painting and put it in his bag before slowly speaking.

Bray, who initially had a natural smile, gradually lost his smile.

The left eye closed almost instinctively, leaving only the right eye exposed, a lifeless right eye.

Although his left eye was not taken away here.

A chilly wind, quite different from the spring breeze, blew in from afar, fluttering the hem of Bree's clothes.

"Why are you here?" Bray asked, his back to Whiteface.

"Just a remnant of consciousness, just like the other versions of yourself in other timelines behind you, nothing more than garbage left behind by a spacetime distortion," White Face said.

“If you’re all trash, then what am I?” Bray said with a self-deprecating laugh.

“Probably the last piece of trash,” Whiteface replied calmly, answering Bray’s question seriously.

“Thank you… Should I thank you for waking me up?” Bray turned his gaze away from the sky.

He'd been looking at that strange sky for almost three years, and he was probably tired of it by now.

“No need, because even if I don’t wake you up, you’ll wake up on your own,” White Face said.

"And even if you wake up, you can't escape this dream."

“That makes sense…” Bray knew perfectly well why he was in a dream.

As long as that fluffy ball doesn't let go of him, he will never wake up for the rest of his life.

What good is waking up? What good is knowing you're dreaming?

I've heard that this is what's called lucid dreaming, and that people in lucid dreams can change their dreams.

Even if I could change this dream, it would still be a dream.

"What should I do next?" Bray asked Whiteface.

"This isn't a question you'd ask, nor is it one I'd answer. Are you still asleep?" White Face said calmly.

Bray reached out and grabbed at the air in front of him, realizing that he wasn't quite powerful enough to change the dream.

By the time he turned around, the pale-faced figure had already disappeared.

Yes, he still wasn't fully awake.

When Bray thinks back on those hopes and dreams now, they feel a bit vague and unclear.

Sometimes, just by spacing out, time seems to slip away inexplicably.

He might be around thirty years old now, but the next second, he might jump to eighty.