Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 155: The Dreamless Sea: The Return of the Lost
"We walk into the storm again and again, but never truly walk through it."

"Memories fade, names peel away, only nightmares remember who we betrayed."

The fog rose again.

The fog seemed to be exhaled from the lungs of the nightmare itself, carrying salty moisture and whispers, enveloping the entire deck layer by layer.

The Lost slowly approached the Dream Gate, its hull moving silently like a ghost in the mist.

Calvino stood at the bow, his cloak fluttering slightly, holding three cards tightly in his hand - "Whisper of Dreams", "Sleeping Chart", and "When the Turns Around".

The fingertips turned slightly white, which was not only a sign of alertness, but more like an inertia that had been repeated for too long and had been engraved into the bones and blood.

He was too familiar with this scene.

Every time the prophecy of the tides emerges, every time the cards resonate, every time the words of fate that seem to have been written long ago ring out:

"When the tide turns, the dream gate rises."

Now, the door slowly opened again, as if the abyss slowly opened its eyes, waiting without emotion for the sacrifice to fall into its trap.

Lilia stood beside him, light as mist and silent as the night.

Her gaze passed through the door and looked at the swirling silver-blue light and shadow deep in the dream gate. It was no longer fear, but a numbness that was so indifferent that it was almost transparent.

"How many times has this happened?" she asked softly, her voice almost drowned out by the sea breeze.

Calvino did not answer. He lowered his head, as if listening to the wind, or perhaps to some nonexistent echo.

He remembers.

In the vague but indelible memory, someone once said to him:

"Captain, we're following you."

“Calvino, we will not retreat.”

"Even if it's just a dream, as long as you go ahead, we'll go."

Those voices have now been silenced.

It’s not like they haven’t entered the Dream Gate before.

They'd been in there—many times.

And failed—many times.

Time and again, they crossed the Dream Gate with a ship full of crew members, and each time, during the trial, someone began to fall asleep, fall, and die.

The causes of death varied, but were all extremely painful.

The nightmare is not like a knife, but more like an elegy with no end in sight, peeling off the deepest fragility of the human heart layer by layer, and then swallowing up the entire ship.

Some people face the abyss with a smile, but eventually turn into alien species in the silent tearing;

Someone cried and begged him to flee, then burned to ashes and extinguished in the fire of dreams;

There were also people who, before dying, shouted at him, "Captain, hurry up, you have to take Lilia out!"

And he escaped with Lilia.

every time.

In the end, only the two siblings were left.

There was a soft sound on deck, like the sound of boots stepping on wet wood.

Calvino turned around suddenly.

No one is empty.

In the fog, the only sound was the gentle rustle of the sails and rigging. Their boat was so empty that it seemed as if they were the only two people in the world.

Every time they escape from the dream gate, they lose something.

Not blood, not cards, but memories.

Lilia's brain began to forget names.

Calvino began to lose his voice in his heart.

They tried to think of the deputy gunner with the injured left eye who always told dirty jokes before dinner - what was his name?

And that woman who was a mercenary but fought to the death to stay in front of Lilia in the storm... She had red hair, right? What was her name?
...I can't remember.

Only the scene of death was clearly remembered by them.

They remembered the moment when they were pierced by the touch of nightmare, their eyes still open, but unconscious;

Remember the silent scream of that man as he was struck by the gaze of the Lord of Sleep, his body instantly disintegrating and his soul being ripped away;
I remember someone being torn into another reality by a vortex of fantasy and dreams, their entire existence being repeatedly dismantled, shattered bit by bit between reality and illusion...

"Brother," Lilia suddenly asked in a low, hesitant voice, "Have we...been running away?"

Calvino still didn't answer. He just stared at the dream door in front of him that hadn't completely closed yet.

His eyes were like the waves of the night sea, unfathomable and filled with unsuppressible pain.

Escape?

he does not know.

They just... passed through the door again and again, and came back again and again.

I can't remember the reasons, nor can I remember the complete outline of the failure.

But he knew that behind them stood countless figures who could never be recalled.

And in front of us——the dream gate slowly opened again, as if saying:
"Welcome back."

This time, the dream door did not close.

It is quietly open, like the mouth of an abyss waiting for judgment, deep and silent.

There were no whispers, no mumblings, only the endless sea fog slowly receding, revealing the silver-blue abyss.

The "Lost" slowly sailed into the dream gate in silence.

The sails were motionless, the wind was still, and the sea was like a mirror, reflecting the sky and the deck, as well as—

Countless afterimages of the Lost Ones' warships.

They come in different forms, but all carry a common curse: failure.

That was the "past version" of each time they embarked on a fantasy and failed. In a boat, Calvino buried Ian with his own hands, his fingers trembling in the mud and blood, not daring to shed a single tear.

In a boat, Rex put the muzzle of the gun to his temple and said with a sob: "I would rather die here than wait for you to come back."

Then he pulled the trigger, and blood stained the bulkhead red.

In one ship, Alison ignited the detonation sequence of the entire bridge, standing in the midst of the flames.
Shouting to the nightmare sky: "This is not your fault, Captain, this is my choice."

And at this moment, all of "them" are standing on the broken decks of the ships, as if returning from failure, or as if they are forgotten souls recalled.

Their eyes are on Calvino today.

No anger, no blame, only silence.

That kind of silence was as silent and terrifying as the deep sea pressing on the heart.

Calvino was almost crushed by the silence.

And Holt.

The original Holt had been the steadiest sword and the most loyal oath by his side.

He also once raised his glass with a smile and said to the battle flag: "Together, let us conquer the dream."

But now, only those eyes filled with hatred remain.

"You pulled us forward time and time again, but you gave up at the last moment time and time again."

His voice was as cold as ice. "You are a deserter and not fit to be a captain."

"I...I want to save you..."

Calvino seemed to have lost all his strength. He squatted down, held his head in his hands, and spoke in a voice so low that it was almost inaudible.

"I tried my best every time..."

Lilia reached out and held him, her fingers were cold, and she also sobbed softly.

They all understood—

They survived.

It is they who keep everyone in dreams time and time again.

It's them...who have forgotten those names.

A familiar voice sounded softly in the wind.

“Italo Calvino.”

He looked back.

Deep in the eye of the storm, a phantom slowly emerged—

It's the father.

That hearty and rugged man, who once lifted up the young Lilia and spun her around with laughter, once ruffled Calvino's hair and said:

"We pirates are born on the waves and die in the storm. What are we afraid of?"

This time, his voice was low and hoarse, but his eyes were still as gentle as before:

“I’m afraid of being forgotten.”

He looked at Calvino, his tone slow and heavy as fate:

"It's not that others have forgotten us, it's that we have forgotten—forgotten what kind of pirates we once were."

“Forget that we were once fearless and willing to carry everyone through the storm.”

He didn't roar or scold, but just spoke quietly, as if reminding and saying goodbye.

"You don't remember how many times you've come back, right?"

Calvino slowly knelt down with his head bowed low, as if he was praying or atonement.

"I... I want to remember... but I don't dare go in again... I'm afraid I'll lose Lilia again..."

My father didn't answer.

No blame either.

He simply turned around, his back moving further and further away in the endless vortex deep within the Dream Gate, heading towards the core of the eternal storm.

He didn't look back.

The door to dreams remains open.

The "Lost" once again drifted in the boundless sea of ​​dreams, its hull full of cracks, the battle damage had not been repaired, the mast was broken, and the sail flag was drooping.

The crew is empty and the soul is gone.

Lilia curled up under the mainmast, hugging her knees tightly, her knuckles turned white, her tears had dried up, and only a slight trembling remained.

Calvino stood at the bow, silently gazing at the dreamlike sea that they had sailed into countless times, escaped from countless times, and lost countless times.

He ran his fingertips over the three cards.

They are still there, their luster is cold, like some kind of mockery from the abyss of fate, or like an invitation to the next voyage.

He slowly closed his eyes.

The whispers of the dream gate sounded again:

"To your channels, to your crews, to your... oblivion."

Wind blows.

The sails are slowly flapping.

Which cycle will bury their names?
Can they still remember why they set sail again?
Or in other words, have those truly important things long been forgotten on a journey of no return?
The wind continues to blow.

The Lost is still sailing.

"You are not the master of the Lost."

"You are just the last one...who hasn't sunk yet."

(End of this chapter)