"...Are you Lulu?"
As soon as Cicia stepped through the door, she saw a gargoyle not far away with a pair of wings on its back, a pointy nose, and a pig snout, its entire body covered in a dull gray. This gargoyle hadn’t turned into a statue but was sneakily watching the drapery on the right side of the hall. Its head stretched to the left and rubbed to the right, as if it wanted to lift the drapery and look inside but seemed afraid of something that it didn’t dare.
Cicia’s sudden voice startled the guilty-looking gargoyle, making it shudder violently, even its thin and bony wings on its back cringed.
With fright, the gargoyle acted like a jammed puppet, twitching its head, then meeting Cicia’s gaze.
Cicia carefully scrutinized this sneaky-looking gargoyle, finding it increasingly familiar. This little look, this timid manner, and those undernourished-looking wings were exactly like the guardian gargoyle at the second narrow passageway of the Hanging Jail Stairway.
With doubt in her heart, Cicia called out again, "Lulu?"
After locking eyes in a frozen stare for several seconds and being called out again by Cicia, the somewhat simple-minded gargoyle finally reacted, the red glow in its eyes gradually brightened.
Its face, both ugly and fierce yet curiously timid, suddenly lit up as if illuminated by bright sunshine.
"Chitter-chatter, jibber-jabber..." The gargoyle, as if seeing a family member, quickly darted toward Cicia, muttering in some unknown language.
Seeing the gargoyle’s reaction, Cicia confirmed it again: this was indeed Lulu!
But isn’t this all too absurd, why is Lulu also in this dream? If Lulu is here, where is the other gargoyle, Coco?
While Cicia was pondering, the gargoyle Lulu had already dashed over. Cicia deftly dodged Lulu’s pounce, then swiftly kicked it from behind, and the gargoyle Lulu was kicked to the ground.
This set of dodging, spinning, and sweeping side-kick was executed by Cicia with such fluidity and skill that it seemed etched into her muscle memory.
And just like countless times in the past, the gargoyle Lulu, kicked down to the ground, was not upset by being knocked over; instead, it looked so excited that it was about to cry... This long-missed feeling of being kicked by the Saintess was something it hadn’t experienced for who knows how long.
Lulu, awash in tears, continued to chatter in a voice that was both aggrieved and somewhat coquettish.
At this moment, however, Cicia was not paying attention to what Lulu was saying. She shook the left leg that had just kicked Lulu, a look of confusion in her eyes: Even though everything here feels very real, this leg’s strength isn’t the same as my original body. Is this a flaw in this dream? But if it’s truly a dream, creating everything should be easy, with no need to reveal such obvious flaws.
Cicia couldn’t quite figure out why this body was exhibiting such changes. It was hers, yet it felt like it wasn’t.
However, even with flaws in the body, the completeness of the dream’s construction was terrifyingly extreme. At least a thousand years ago, Cicia had only seen Illusionary Realms that were so lifelike, never a dream as realistic as this. After all, the Illusion Technique, at its core, was still under the wizard’s control. With the power of control, it could be continuously modified and perfected. Even creating an illusion identical to the True World isn’t impossible, like the global-scale illusion of the Illusionist Wizard.
But dreams are just a bubble of the Dream Realm, and the Dream Witch can only borrow the bubble rather than create it. This is fundamentally different from the Illusionist Wizard.
As Cicia was deep in thought, a pair of sharp claws wrapped in gray stone shells suddenly hugged Cicia’s thigh.
Looking down, Cicia saw Lulu clinging to her leg, crying, and muttering words of complaint.
"You..." Cicia initially wanted to tell Lulu to let go, but seeing Lulu still partially lying on the ground, weeping, she suddenly remembered something.
With the force used just now, it shouldn’t have knocked Lulu to the ground. Although Lulu was among the lowest of the gargoyles, it was still a magic monster from the Abyss, so how could an ordinary human’s strength knock it down? How would other monsters from the Abyss bear this?
Even if Lulu is a false creation by Angel in the dream, it should at least adhere to some rules, right?
"Chitter-chatter... Jibber-jabber..."
Cicia’s mind hadn’t wandered far before being interrupted by Lulu’s voice again.
Although Cicia was convinced this "Lulu" was false, it was so much like the real Lulu... so much so that Cicia couldn’t bear to expose it.
Then let’s chat with it. As they chat, it will inevitably reveal its true self.
No matter how well it mimics, it isn’t Lulu.
For previously, she had asked The Sage about Lulu and the other guards’ situation. The Sage had told her a piece of news that was not entirely bad but certainly not good either: Lulu and another gargoyle had voluntarily petrified themselves and never woke up. They hadn’t been plundered by outsiders but had chosen to remain in deep sleep all these years, without anyone waking them. Now, they’re essentially in a state of "sleep-death."
Over such a long period, even a gargoyle underwent "sleep-death." Even if there were still some life waves, there wasn’t any way to wake them.
This is the ecology of lower-level gargoyles. Because their bodies are weak, when they enter sleep-death, even if their body gets completely destroyed, they feel nothing; in fact, as their body gets ruined, they completely die. Meanwhile, high-level gargoyles have highly resilient bodies, and if they "sleep-death," they can be revived through various external stimuli. For instance, a dark gold gargoyle can be awakened with constant burning by a Transcendent fire.
And precisely because Cicia knew they had been sleep-dead, she was certain that what’s in front of her wasn’t Lulu.
Yet, looking at the crying "Lulu," Cicia, just like thousands of years ago, crouched down halfway, patted Lulu’s somewhat hard and smooth head, and comforted with a familiar tone, "Alright, alright, stop crying, I don’t know about other things, but I am real... go ahead, I’m listening."
Lulu’s reaction was the same as before; in Cicia’s soft voice, its emotions slowly calmed down, starting to speak between sobs and hics.
However, its words were still "chitter-chatter, jibber-jabber."
"It’s incredible how even its tone and habits can be imitated..." Cicia slightly frowned. "Could it be that Angel is manipulating my memories?"
Cicia thought about it, but then felt it was impossible. Even though the Dream Sorcerer could do many unbelievable things in the Dream Realm, not being the dream realm’s master meant such a silent invasion of memories could only be achieved through Rule-level abilities; Cicia couldn’t think of another way.
Moreover, Cicia, weakened though she was, essentially had no body or soul, being purely a collection of memories, or an alternative Consciousness. Whether her memory had been read or not, she could still sense it.
Yet without reading her memory, how could Angel simulate such a realistic Lulu, even down to its reaction patterns?
Even the tones when being aggrieved... were just like back then...
Originally pondering how Angel created such a realistic "Lulu," but as Lulu used its familiar voice and nostalgic tone to weep and plead with Cicia for consolation, Cicia felt as though this body of hers had a heart being touched, with her vision becoming gradually blurry.
Truly, for Cicia, it had been so long since she felt this way; everything was like thousands of years ago. The mansion hadn’t toppled, the sunshine was bright, her body was unharmed, and there was still a familiar little companion by her side.
Cicia found herself indulging in this feeling, this long-lost sensation too beautiful... too beautiful...
...
However, the former Saintess Cicia was fundamentally a rational person. Even as emotions surged, her intellect did not remain dormant.
She knew no matter how beautiful it was, it was just a dream.
A long-lost beautiful dream.
Since it’s a dream, there will be a time for awakening.
Cicia didn’t want to be led blindly by the dream created by Angel; she forcibly restrained her emotional contemplation.