"Where the hell are you flying!?"
Gods, she's noisy, thought Sasser silently. Though he had to admit—her figure was excellent. Even her soul seemed to faithfully preserve that detail.
At that moment, the soaking wet Judge was sprawled across the demon-tainted back of the black mage, whose skin was covered in a thin sheen of scales. The bone-chilling sea wind was like a thousand rusted knives, driving into her throat with every word, clawing beneath her collar, lashing at her neck—Jeanne was freezing to the bone.
Sasser's leathery wings, each stretching over two meters wide, beat heavily as he glided over an endless, gray-black ocean. Above them loomed a sky full of spiraling black clouds like whirlpools, dragging across the heavens. In the far distance, more than a dozen silent waterspouts crawled slowly along the sea's surface.
Yes—silent. This place was utterly dead.
The only thing they could hear was their own voices.
Sasser could feel the crushing pressure of this strange sea, the oppressive weight of the vortex-shaped clouds that seemed to stretch across all of existence. It was like staring into a massive oil painting, its lines and colors slowly shifting, evolving—but never vanishing, waiting eternally for him to step inside.
Let's hope time flows like a dream here, he thought. I don't want to stay in this damned place any longer than I have to.
He didn't want to be a free mount, either—but the dream-corridor they had been in earlier had begun to collapse. When they were forced to open one of its doors to escape, the corridor vanished, and the world had changed.
They had dropped straight into this freezing, pitch-black sea.
Well—Jeanne had. His soul, half-demonic as it was, had simply unfurled its wings and stayed airborne.
Naturally, the soaking wet Jeanne had clawed her way up his tail, climbed onto his back, and now clung to him like a tick.
"I've got a rough idea what's going on now," the black mage said, ignoring her complaints. "First, this dream-path might be a crossing point between dreams and reality. That would explain all the absurdities. Second, if we fall asleep in here, our souls probably drop into someone else's dream. The only question is… whether this dream belongs to some collective consciousness or—"
As he spoke, he dove low, gliding just above the surface of the sea. His long, dark red hair whipped across Jeanne's face, splattering her with cold seawater.
All around them, the horizon was pitch-black, the clouds above endlessly swirling. Waterspouts marched across the ocean like a silent army. There was no sun in this place—only a faint, almost imperceptible glow pulsing from the sea itself.
"Black mage! I'm going to freeze to death! Could you maybe slow down!?"
He snorted. How is that my problem?
"Please, you climbed up here yourself. You think I'm some free ride? Want a warm towel and a glass of wine too? If you're not happy, you can go for a swim."
"Shut it. This is your duty as my subordinate."
She said it like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Sasser's neck cracked as he turned to glare at her. The hell is wrong with this woman? "Since when does a Judge get to use her guardian knight as a free taxi?"
"Funny. I've also never heard of a half-demonic black mage crashing his soul into a Church knight's body," she shot back.
"And yet—here I am."
"And yet—here I am." She sneered coldly.
Scowling, Sasser suddenly dove—straight into the sea.
"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU, YOU DAMNED HALF-DEMON BEAST!"
Jeanne burst from the waves a second later, coughing up seawater, hacking, spitting, half-drowned and furious. She grabbed the black mage's split tongue and yanked it—stretching it out a full hand's length.
This idiot!
Thud. Sasser spun midair, crashing down into the sea like a hawk shot from the sky—dragging the Judge down with him.
This time, it was Jeanne who yanked him off balance from behind.
She floated in the cold water, her stomach full of bitter brine.
Gasping, Jeanne jolted awake. The world seemed to swell beneath her, the corridor rocking like waves underfoot. A cat's spine brushed against her cheek—rough and scratchy. Instinctively, she turned her head and spat onto the ground. The taste in her mouth reminded her unpleasantly of vomit.
"You goddamned idiot..." Sasser groaned, holding his head as he stirred awake. Slouched against the wall, he looked every bit as irritated as he sounded. "How are you still alive?"
How am I still alive? Jeanne's pale golden eyes flicked over him up and down, assessing. Then she replied, cool and composed: "By carrying out the will of the Lord, and leading the charge to purge heretics and dangerous cultists."
"You swallow seawater and forget how to listen? That's not what I asked," Sasser spat. "My tongue's injured now—your doing. You know what that means?"
"What the hell does your tongue injury have to do with me?" Jeanne replied with a different tone entirely—mocking now, almost smug.
"It means any damage taken in the dream manifests back in the real damn maze, you absolute moron!" Sasser stuck out his tongue—not the forked demonic version, but a very human one, with faint, lingering finger marks on its surface. He jabbed a finger at it. "You left these. What the hell did you think you were doing, tug-of-war?!"
Jeanne snorted. She set the cat down, rose to her feet, and began stretching her stiff limbs. First because she'd been lying too long on the cold, hard floor—and second because that icy chill from their dream-ocean still clung to her bones. After a pause, and with a distinct lack of sincerity, she muttered, "I'll try to pull more gently next time."
"YOU PLAN TO DO IT A SECOND TIME!?"
At that moment, Viola, the black cat, rose to her feet, trying to do so without making a sound. But Sasser and Jeanne both noticed her anyway.
The cat padded between them, looked up at Sasser for a moment, then turned to Jeanne, clearly torn between the two. She hesitated—then opened her mouth, clearly intending to speak.
"...Um—"
"If you say anything about what just happened, I will gut you," Jeanne said coldly.
The menace in her tone sent a visible shiver through Viola. The cat shut her mouth obediently.
"Lead the way," Sasser crouched down, placing a hand on Viola's back and locking eyes with her. "We're going to kill this house's master now. I need to harvest souls and materials—time to push this body's demonization to the next stage."
The mind control spell activated quickly. Viola nodded, then turned and began to guide them deeper into the depths of the house.