How To Live As A Writer In A Fantasy World

There is a term called lucid dreaming.

It refers to dreaming while being aware that you are dreaming.

In other words, it means knowing that everything unfolding before you is a dream and not happening in reality.

The reason I bring this up is that I am currently experiencing a lucid dream.

Ever since I reincarnated, I’ve always slept soundly, not even dreaming, let alone having a lucid dream.

Yet, for some reason, an unfamiliar sight is unfolding before my eyes now.

The background was predominantly dark and resembled a temple.

Five statues that seemed to guard the center stood scattered throughout, uniquely featuring wings and horns.

Wings and horns, attributes only demons could possess. Moreover, the demon statues each had drastically different appearances.

Some had horns that shot straight upward like Cecily’s, while others, like Gartz, had horns curled like a ram’s.

Both genders were represented, and the statues were so intricately crafted that one might assume they were modeled after real beings.

At the center of these guardians stood a much larger statue.

Its appearance was reminiscent of Cthulhu, with tentacles hanging from its mouth, and it was far more massive than the other statues.

Like the others, it exuded a lifelike presence, as though it could spring to life at any moment.

While the smaller statues were clearly demons, I couldn’t determine who—or what—this massive figure represented.

“Cough! Cough! Urgh…”

While I was absentmindedly observing the vivid statues, a rough coughing sound reached my ears.

The sound came precisely from below me. I stopped scanning the statues and shifted my gaze downward.

“Oh…”

And then, the horrifying scene that came into view left me speechless.

A battlefield reeking of blood—a bloodbath. That’s the only way to describe it.

Beneath a stone altar, presumably a sacrificial bed, a man lay drenched in blood, gasping for breath.

His fiery red hair, resembling a roaring flame, was either stained with blood or naturally that color.

He had a lion-like mane and a massive frame that words like “large” failed to capture.

Despite his fading life force, his blood-soaked eyes glinted defiantly, unable to fully open due to the blood.

Splurt!

With a violent cough, the red-haired man spewed a mouthful of blood.

Judging by his coughing up blood, his condition was extremely critical.

His body was riddled with weapons like skewers, including swords and other implements, and his right arm was completely gone.

It wasn’t a clean cut either—it looked as though someone had forcibly ripped it off, leaving behind jagged, torn flesh and exposed bones.

Yet, even in that state, he gripped a massive double-headed axe in his left hand.

However, the axe was damaged, with one of its blades broken.

His injuries were so severe that it wouldn’t be surprising if he died at any moment.

Despite witnessing this, I did nothing.

No—I couldn’t. It wasn’t just the man; I was too engrossed in the horrifying scene around him to act.

‘My God…’

The sight made my jaw drop involuntarily.

There were five visible corpses, matching the number of statues.

Two were massive demons, larger than ordinary ones, with extended horns and fully spread wings.

One had its head cleaved by an axe, its brains oozing out, while the other’s upper and lower halves were separated, spilling its innards everywhere.

Even they were relatively “fortunate.”

The other three were so grotesque that calling them horrifying seemed inadequate.

One corpse had all its limbs torn off. Another had been split vertically, like a piece of firewood.

The last… its face had been caved in so thoroughly it resembled a sinkhole, likely crushed by bare hands.

The last corpse, shockingly, was an elf.

Although its ears had been severed and scattered on the ground, its identity as an elf was unmistakable.

Not a single body among them had died a normal death. The red-haired man, despite his injuries, was in the best condition.

In other words, he had killed them all.

“Ah…”

“Eek?!”

I flinched when the elf with the caved-in face groaned.

Though its face was so disfigured it was unrecognizable, it still showed signs of consciousness. Its brain must have turned to mush—how could it still be alive? ȑÀ𝐍òᛒÈś

Thank goodness this was just a dream; if I saw this in real life, I’d have vomited everything in my stomach on the spot.

“I don’t… understand…”

To make things worse, it even spoke. This was horror on another level.

As the half-dead elf spoke, I instinctively stepped back. Its vitality was incomprehensible.

In the meantime, the elf mustered all its strength to speak in a voice barely audible:

“Why… why go this far…?”

Apart from the elf and the red-haired man, no one else was alive. In other words, that question was directed at the red-haired man.

“…What’s the point of not dying?”

The red-haired man’s curt reply was devoid of any vitality, as if he had already accepted his death.

His tone conveyed a mix of resignation and strange relief—contrasting emotions intertwined.

“Even if you do this… no one will… remember you…”

“…”

“It’s just… a little late… but with you gone… this is… our victory… Hehehe…”

It was the first time I’d seen someone smile so broadly their lips seemed to tear.

Combined with the grotesque laughter, even in a dream, it sent chills down my spine.

Hearing this, the red-haired man seemed lost in thought before he slowly lifted his gaze.

Leaning against the altar, he looked up at a single lamp affixed to the ceiling.

That lamp, sustained by magic, would eventually extinguish.

“I know.”

The red-haired man answered the elf’s question calmly. Then, as if recalling his past, he spoke wistfully:

“As you said…”

Cough!

The man coughed up another handful of blood.

His gaze was gradually growing dim, a clear sign that he didn’t have much time left.

“…We lost. I doubt there are many who know of your existence, and even if they do, they won’t reveal it. After all, they’ve witnessed our defeat with their own eyes.”

“But why… Don’t tell me you’re planning to involve your descendant…”

“No. That child knows nothing. I never told them. But starting with that child, they will rise to the surface.”

The man with red hair mentioned “that child.”

For some reason, it made me think of my father. Now that I take a closer look, the man shared many similarities with him.

A sturdy build, blazing red hair, and, most strikingly, golden eyes.

As I tilted my head, uncertain of who he truly was, the man let out a deep breath.

It was a relieved sigh, as if concluding his final task.

Slowly closing his eyes, he murmured softly.

“Our ‘duty’ ends here.”

“An unsung hero… remembered by no one… sought by no one… meeting a most miserable… end…”

The elf, now barely holding onto life, struggled to push out his final words.

“That even you… would fade away… without knowing the truth… what a lamentable fate…”

“… …”

“O Father of all… I too shall soon join you… urgh…”

With those cryptic words, the elf passed away.

The man watched the elf’s death in silence, then slowly turned his gaze back to the ceiling.

A stark contrast between the gruesome scene and the profound stillness.

Between his powerful physique and his sorrowful eyes.

The man gazed at the ceiling for a long time before slowly closing his eyes.

Then, like a child drifting into sleep, he whispered faintly.

“To the nameless soul who has come to this place…”

“… …”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t stop it.”

A spirit of sacrifice to the very end, honoring those who had fallen.

But all of it would vanish like dust in the wind, forgotten by everyone.

“God, please… bless that soul…”

“… …”

“Care for it with compassion…”

With those words—

Flash!

A brilliant light burst forth, filling the entire space with radiant illumination.

★★★★★

“… …”

I woke up, blinking as I stared at the dimly lit ceiling.

Despite having just awoken, my mind was clear, free from any drowsiness.

And that dream I had just now… what on earth was it?

Usually, dreams fade from memory upon waking, but not this one. Instead, it remained vividly etched in my mind.

Rustle.

Still in a daze, I carefully sat up. As I moved, I suddenly sensed a presence beside me.

Turning my head, I saw Ariel fast asleep, tightly clutching my arm.

Unless I spent the night with other women, she would always sleep in my bed. Tonight was one of those nights.

But unlike usual, I had a lucid dream—a dream that seemed related to my grandfather Clark’s final moments.

Judging by the timing, it must have been when my soul had just crossed over to this place.

That’s the conclusion I reached after thinking it through.

‘An unsung hero…’

How fitting a description. Now I even understood why the red-haired hero had never been mentioned.

Ironically, it was Clark’s decision to abandon the mantle of hero that marked the beginning of the Michelle family’s glory.

He even sabotaged the summoning ritual, just in case, and annihilated all the top leaders.

Perhaps because the dream was so impactful, I reached for the drawer of my bedside table.

Inside, I always kept a notebook and a magical pen.

Scratch, scratch.

I jotted down a simple note in the notebook.

The content wasn’t anything special, just a story idea for a side tale.

In my previous life, it would have been one of those overused clichés. But this one was closely tied to the dream I just had.

‘The title…

… …

The Passing Hero. That will do.’

Satisfied, I closed the notebook and glanced out the window.

The starry night sky was so breathtakingly beautiful that words couldn’t do it justice.

‘Should I make the descendant of the side story’s protagonist Zenon?’

That sounds like a good idea.

Morning eventually arrived.

“Where are you headed?”

“To the temple. Luminous has instructed me to go there…”

Kate came to inform me that she was heading to the temple.