Dreamwalker: Reign of the Heavenly Sovereign!-Chapter 42

Aiko smiled and grabbed the collar of her cloak, then with exaggerated flair, she took it off in a way that covered her body from Oliver, Kaori, and her mother's view before putting it back onto her shoulder—now inside out. The blue star-bordered interior was now on full display. But that wasn't the only thing that changed, as her outfit also became altered.

She was previously just wearing a plain shirt and a black skirt.

But now she had a black blazer on top of her shirt, a nice blue satin bowtie around her neck—which she adjusted with her new pair of white gloves—before resting one hand on her pants-covered thighs and the other fixing her new hair bun hairstyle.

The blazer shimmered subtly under the light, its fitted, tuxedo-style design accentuated by blue satin lapels and glittering sequins that caught the eye with every movement. A flared peplum skirt-like layer trimmed in matching sequins jutted out over her hips and tapered into long, dramatic tails in the back, lined in rich blue fabric. Her slim black pants were marked by a bold blue stripe down each side, adding to the magician-like flair of her look. Atop her head sat a crisp black top hat wrapped with a silky blue ribbon, completing the transformation into a dazzling, stage-ready figure—somewhere between magician, ringmaster, and star performer.

Her fingers dug into her hair as if she were looking for something, then she smiled, indicating she found it.

"Welcome, ladies and pedo-kun, to Aiko's grand magic show," she said as she turned to face Oliver, Kaori, and her mother, pulling a magician's wand out from her hair.

"Today, I'll be showing you all how to get rid of a few annoying figments," she hummed lightly, then turned and looked downward, her ass arching upward unnecessarily as she intentionally pulled her cloak to the side—giving Oliver a nice treat as he ate his yakisoba.

"So pay close attention~"

Oliver smirked, not knowing if she meant the creatures below or the perfect peach desserts in front of him.

"You don't have to tell me twice," he said before taking another bite of his meal and enjoying the short view as she stood up straight.

Aiko giggled and blew him a playful kiss.

"Then watch closely and you'll get a special treat at the end, my dear Oli-kun~"

She then turned back to the task at hand, twirling the wand in her hand as she watched the creatures and the fire below.

—

Aiko took a deep breath, letting the smoky air from the fires below fill her lungs with that faint scent of ash and burnt magic. The translucent monsters danced in the flames like ghosts, burn wounds coating their shimmer-coated limbs. Then, as if responding to her gaze, one let out a guttural, distorted roar—a sound like glass grinding against bone, echoing through the chamber with unnatural sharpness. The others joined in, their faceless maws peeling open to release a chorus of warped howls. They flickered between shapes, trembling with rage, humming with quiet menace beneath the shrieks. Utterly wrong. Utterly real.

She raised her wand, gripping it like a maestro about to begin a performance, and the flames shifted in rhythm to her movement.

"Now then..." she muttered, her eyes sparkling beneath the brim of her top hat. "Time for the opening act."

The wand spun between her fingers, then came down with a sharp flick. At once, a ring of blue magic erupted from its tip, forming a spinning sigil of glowing constellations beneath her feet. Blue stars burst upward like fireworks, and from their trails emerged a flurry of tarot cards—each one etched with gleaming symbols and shifting illustrations, orbiting her in a graceful, deliberate pattern like enchanted satellites poised for command.

"Major Arcana, First Draw—The Tower."

A card shot forth with violent speed, its edges gleaming like cut glass. It tore through the charge, slicing through the creatures below and continuing even farther—ripping its way from the thirty-fourth floor all the way down to the tenth, where it embedded itself into the very essence of Kōgetsu-an Hotel. The structure had long since been overtaken by dozens of twisted figments heading upwards.

For a moment—silence.

Then the card flashed gold—and a thunderous explosion bloomed from its heart, tearing through the building like a miniature sun bursting to life. Flames and shards erupted in every direction, the figments within being the primary victims. Heat licked across the walls, floors cracked, and ceilings imploded, crushing humans and monsters alike in a twisted, indiscriminate battlefield. The tower screamed with warped metal and scorched air as it collapsed inward.

Kaori ducked. Her mother yelped. Aiko smirked.

The walls of the hotel crumbled to dust, figments roaring as they fell into the depths. Yet even as chaos swallowed the structure, Aiko and the others floated unscathed amidst the devastation. But the figments weren't finished. They leapt from falling debris, using the destruction as footholds as they launched themselves toward the platform.

"Card Two: The Hanged Man!"

Another card twirled through the air, spinning like a blade. It struck a chunk of debris just in front of a charging figment—and time slowed.

Chains of inverted light erupted upward, suspending the monster midair as if held by invisible strings. It thrashed madly, but the debris it clung to fell away, and the card remained lodged deep inside. Slowly, deliberately, the chains twisted, tightening with every second—tearing into the figment's flesh as it screeched and plunged into the collapsing ruins below.

"Card Three: The Lovers."

Two cards emerged in tandem, twining around each other before piercing through a pair of figments that had been mirroring each other's movements. The moment they struck, glowing red threads linked the two monsters. Their bodies convulsed, tethered by heart-shaped bonds that pulsed with warped affection.

Then came the collapse.

Both exploded into radiant petals of light, undone by their forced unity—vanishing in a twin blossom of crimson and violet flame. But the cards weren't finished. The streaks of red and purple surged onward, tearing through half the remaining figments in brilliant twin arcs.

"Card Four: The Sun!"

Aiko flung the card high into the air—higher than should have been possible—as what remained of the penthouse warped into an elongated cone of haze and heated illusion. The card embedded itself in the center of the airspace like a newborn star.

Then it flared.

A miniature sun burst to life, casting everything below in harsh, blinding brilliance. Shadows screamed and twisted. Figments combusted where the light touched them. One particularly stubborn beast lunged toward Aiko's throat—

Too late.

The solar flare washed over it, incinerating its flesh in a single, searing roar.

Aiko raised her hand and snapped her fingers.

The miniature sun began to collapse inward—and in its final, brilliant act—

Boom.

It burst with such force that the aftershock alone obliterated the hotel and surrounding buildings. Police cars and fire trucks en route were tossed like toys in the blastwave. The explosion lit the Tokyo night sky in divine brilliance.

"Fuck!" Oliver shouted, shielding his eyes from the flash. One arm covered his face while the other grabbed Kaori, ready to teleport them away.

"Are you insane!!" he roared as his vision adjusted and the platform stabilized in the wake of the sun's fury.

But his complaint fell on deaf ears.

Aiko didn't even glance his way. Her gaze was locked onto the streets below—where, faint but visible through the haze, blurry figures thrashed. Officers fired at them in a panic.

"Card Five: Death!"

There was no flourish this time.

The card vanished from her orbit—and then reappeared in silence, embedded directly into the chest of every last monster within the streets and the building's rubble.

Black flowers bloomed from each point of impact. Every figment froze, trembling, then bowed forward like puppets with their strings cut. One by one, they dissolved into petals of void—fading into nothingness without a sound.

Aiko let the wand drop to her side, spinning slowly in her grip before she caught it again and tapped the brim of her hat.

"And scene," she declared, giving a deep, graceful bow to her small audience.

Her long coattails swept behind her like falling curtains as the fires dimmed into glowing embers and silence returned.

Aiko turned on her heel, the dying embers casting golden edges across her silhouette as she faced Oliver. The brim of her top hat dipped forward, casting a shadow over her gleaming eyes. She spotted his hands—one arm curled protectively around Kaori, the other hanging loosely at his side. His yakisoba container lay on the floor of the floating platform, noodles scattered like fallen soldiers across the cracked stone.

A smirk tugged at her lips.

"Well, well..." she said, voice laced with amusement as her gaze flicked down to the ruined meal, then back up to Oliver's face. "I guess you don't like yakisoba that much after all."

Oliver didn't answer immediately, his heart still hammering from the fallout of a literal sun being born in the middle of Tokyo. His mouth parted to protest—but he saw the glint in her eyes, the teasing curl of her smile. He rolled his jaw once and let out a dry laugh.

Aiko tilted her head, her white-gloved finger resting against her chin in mock thought. "Hmm... if yakisoba isn't your thing, then..."

She leaned forward, hips swaying beneath the dramatic tails of her blazer, and her smile turned from playful to positively wicked.

"How about we get you that treat I promised you~?"

—

The streets of Tokyo smoldered beneath the dying breath of a miniature sun. Smoke twisted upward like mourning banners, curling around the shattered bones of what used to be Kōgetsu-an Hotel. Cars lay overturned, windows blown out, asphalt cracked and littered with strange debris. Amongst it all stood Officer Takemura, his uniform charred at the sleeves, his helmet askew.

He stared.

Black petals swirled through the air, drifting like snow. Dozens—maybe hundreds—of them. They danced through the smoke, brushing against police riot shields and broken windshields, clinging to the walls and fluttering across corpses. But what disturbed him wasn't their number.

It was the fact of them.

Just moments before, they had been translucent beasts—glimmering, horrifying things that shrugged off bullets and screeched like glass being peeled apart. He'd watched his fellow officers panic, fire everything they had. Nothing worked. Then... light. Light so blinding it felt like God Himself had blinked too hard.

And now?

Only petals.

Only the soft rustle of ashes.

"Takemura," a fellow officer whispered beside him, eyes wide, skin pale with soot. "What the hell happened?"

He didn't answer. His hand trembled on his sidearm.

Then, static crackled over their radios—harsh and sudden.

"All units." A voice, sharp as iron, cut through the air. "Return to Central. Now. Full retreat. No exceptions. This is a command from Director-General Sudo himself."

There was a pause—one breath of confusion, hesitation, fear—but then boots began to move.

"Did he say the Director himself...?" someone muttered.

"Shut it! Move!"

Officers pulled back in groups, carrying wounded, whispering prayers, avoiding the petals as though they might ignite just by touch. Takemura lingered for only a moment longer, staring at one dark flower resting on his shoulder, before brushing it off and turning toward the station.

The Tokyo Metropolitan Police Agency's Central Command sat half-buried in shadow, its towering form shielded behind reinforced concrete and double-reinforced glass. But Director-General Sudo's personal office was quiet—eerily so. Located three levels below ground, it was designed like a bunker. The walls were soundproof. The floor was black stone tile, clean to the point of reflection. One side held shelves of heavy law books and historical records. Another bore a wall of screens showing live footage from surveillance drones scattered across the city.

A dim light from a single hanging bulb swayed overhead, casting elongated shadows.

And those shadows moved.

Two creatures—tall, pale, faceless—loomed on either side of the massive oak desk. Their limbs were thin, too thin, jointed wrong in places. Their skin, if it could be called that, looked like moist parchment pulled taut over bone. Veins pulsed beneath translucent flesh. They stood unnaturally still, but the air around them vibrated with murderous intent. Just being near them felt like drowning in thick, metallic water.

Director-General Sudo trembled behind his desk. He wasn't a weak man. Decorated in three wars, hardened by politics and bloodied hands, he had faced down organized crime lords and terrorist factions.

But he had never faced this.

This chapt𝓮r is updat𝒆d by ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom.

"I—I called them back," he stammered, not to the monsters, but to the child seated in the leather chair across from him. "Every unit. No matter what they saw. No matter what they said. I'm... I'm loyal."

The boy did not move.

He looked to be no older than nine—small, sickly, wrapped in a hospital patient's gown. His skin was pale, tinged slightly blue around the lips, and an IV needle still dangled uselessly from the inside of one arm. Bandages clung to his neck and wrists. His black hair was thin and wild, unbrushed. He sat with his knees up in the chair, staring with large, sunken eyes that didn't blink.

No warmth existed in his gaze.

There was no innocence either.

Just a terrible stillness.

Sudo swallowed, his voice cracking. "P-please. I did as you asked..."

The boy tilted his head.

"Go," he said softly. "Kill him."

One of the pale creatures moved—so fast the air cracked.

Sudo screamed, tried to stand, but something sharp and white lanced through his throat. Blood fountained across the wall behind him, spraying over the legal codes and falling like red rain onto the glossy tile floor.

He gurgled once.

Then silence.

The boy didn't flinch. His expression didn't change. The second pale creature moved to his side and crouched like a servant awaiting further orders.

The child looked at the wall of surveillance screens behind the desk. He tilted his head in the opposite direction this time.

"Aiko..." he whispered, voice like frost on glass. "I'll remember you."

He raised one frail hand, and the screens flickered. Static burst. Then all went dark.