Honkai: Fire Moth Herrschers-Chapter 241: Entering the Dream

Gurgle—Gurgle—

The specialized combat suit felt a bit tight. Nutrient fluid flowed down his nasal cavity and trachea, flooding his lungs. Oxygen would be delivered directly to the alveoli, then enter the bloodstream. After a brief moment of suffocation, Michael quickly accustomed himself to the sensation.

Everything in his vision, including the nutrient fluid, was tinted blue by the light from the Observation Hub. This didn't affect clarity, however.

Michael simply turned his head slightly. To his left, Su floated serenely, eyes closed in meditation. Though it was his first time on the battlefield, he didn't seem particularly nervous.

To his right, however, was Dystopia. Her hands were clasped tightly over her chest, lips moving silently, eyelashes fluttering incessantly.

As a psychic-sensitive MANTIS, she easily detected Michael's gaze. She turned and offered a small smile, her expression then firming with resolve.

Fear was unavoidable. Even seasoned veterans, tempered by countless battles, couldn't completely erase the fear in their hearts before entering combat. This emotion originated from the deepest instinct of human—no, every animal's consciousness: the will to survive.

The ensuing determination arose because, for everyone, there were things in this world more important than their own lives.

Michael initially wanted to search for Aunt Blanca among the numerous Observation Hubs, but she was too far away, and the hubs were arranged in a single line. Ultimately, he couldn't spot her.

Of course, there were many familiar faces among this batch of psychic-sensitive MANTISes—like Evangeline. But like Aunt Blanca, Michael's restricted view prevented him from seeing her.

Finally, he met Dystopia's gaze. They both turned their heads simultaneously. In the instant before the lab door closed, they saw the backs of many figures who had come to see them off.

Elysia, Kosma, Mobius, Mei, Kevin...

Clank—

The sound of the closing door echoed within the lab, but was quickly replaced by SPACY's pacing footsteps.

He clutched an iron-grey flask in his right hand. With each pulsating step, his empty left sleeve danced in the air, oddly reminiscent of the flowing sleeves described by ancients.

He muttered constantly. Michael didn't intend to eavesdrop, but a Herrscher's hearing was simply too acute. Even across the distance, through glass and nutrient fluid, Michael clearly heard his words—

"My dear, watch closely from heaven! This time, we will surely win again!"

Ten minutes passed, then half an hour...

No orders came. A panic tinged with frustration began to spread among them.

They had long completed all combat preparations. Apart from the MANTISes preparing to proactively enter the Herrscher's dream, all Fire Moth members had taken the little blue pills and received Aponia's Discipline.

They began discreetly disseminating information about Fire Moth online. Yet, after so long, the Herrscher still hadn't launched an attack on the base.

Had the Herrscher not intercepted the information yet?

Or was the Herrscher smarter than imagined, easily identifying it as a trap?

Even Michael couldn't help but let his thoughts wander.

However, over the years, he had learned to reconcile with his own tumultuous thoughts.

Moreover, he remained convinced the plan was sound.

If the Herrscher hadn't attacked because she hadn't intercepted their information yet, that wasn't a problem. They just needed to wait. Time was on their side—the little blue pills could be remade when their effect wore off. Aponia could lift the Discipline on some warriors, allowing them to enter rotating combat readiness shifts, preventing burnout.

Most importantly, after a few more hours, when Prometheus's upgrade finished, they could rely on the powerful AI to proactively search for the Herrscher using big data algorithms.

And what if the other possibility occurred—the Herrscher realized it was a trap?

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If she dared to come, they'd proceed with the honey trap as planned. If she hesitated, unwilling to come, wouldn't that just lead back to the first scenario?

Weighing the options again in his mind, Michael felt completely reassured.

As he started to relax, he realized Mobius's nutrient fluid was actually quite comfortable—not just for breathing. This yet-unnamed fluid could directly assist with various metabolic processes. Meaning, Michael could lie motionless in the fluid indefinitely, without even needing to use the restroom.

Suddenly, a female voice echoed in his mind. It had to be Dystopia, still pursuing the earlier question:

"Captain Michael, you're clearly not a psychic-sensitive MANTIS, so why participate in this operation? Even if you overcome the dream, you lack the ability to reverse-trace the Herrscher. Isn't this too risky? After all, you..."

Michael didn't want to answer such questions, but Dystopia persisted. He shook his head helplessly. With a slight mental nudge, his words traveled through the mental network Dystopia established, back into her mind.

"Relax. This time, I'm just verifying certain things. Of course, to ensure absolute safety, Mobius has already implanted bombs in my heart and brain. If I really mess up so badly that I get controlled by the Eighth Herrscher, then... Boom!"

Dystopia flinched as if hearing a real explosion.

Actually, that wasn't what she wanted to know. What she really wanted to know was: What exactly did Michael want to verify?

But now clearly wasn't the time to ask again.

The red signal light on the lab wall suddenly lit up, flooding the entire room with blood-like light. Three urgent alarms belatedly sounded.

Needless to say, everyone knew what this meant—Herrscher attack!

But after the long wait, the feeling welling up wasn't fear, but relief.

SPACY drained the flask in one go. The stone hanging in his heart finally dropped.

As one involved in planning the operation, SPACY knew very well that even if the Herrscher hadn't come, he couldn't escape Fire Moth's subsequent search.

But he was different from Michael, different from Mei. Less a scientist, more an avenger.

The Herrscher must die, undoubtedly. But he preferred the Herrscher die by his own hands. That was complete revenge.

His left arm was amputated due to Honkai sickness, and he lacked the talent to become a MANTIS. Unable to fight on the battlefield, he normally wouldn't have a chance for direct revenge.

Fortunately, this Honkai Eruption's form was so unique, allowing him maximum participation in the battle.

After all, he and Mobius had performed this large-scale Meta-Morph surgery together. Among the participating MANTISes, his student Su was prominently listed. He himself was also the field commander for the upcoming Observation Hub operation.

"Good that you came! Good that you came!! Good that you came!!!" His face, handsome by any measure, contorted into a terrifying grimace.

He paced back to Michael's Observation Hub, the two meeting eyes through the nutrient fluid.

He hadn't intentionally sought out Michael. He stood there simply because Michael was almost exactly in the center of all the MANTISes, and his Hub number was 26.

Yes, out of over four hundred eligible candidates who underwent Meta-Morph surgery, only slightly over a hundred remained when they came off the table. Half of those didn't survive the post-operative observation period, or fell completely into Artificial Cascade during that stage, losing all sanity.

"We've already made such sacrifices. Therefore, we must succeed." This was SPACY's self-muttering, but given everyone present was a MANTIS, they likely all heard it. It served as a sort of pre-battle declaration.

The moment his words fell, the red indicator light behind him switched off, replaced by green. This meant Mei had given the order to execute the plan.

"Observation Hub preparatory state activated." SPACY pressed the button. He didn't need to do this himself; he could have ordered Boron or other lab personnel.

But Michael, citing safety, had requested only two personnel remain in the lab: SPACY himself, and Michael's final failsafe.

"Everyone, listen up. To ensure you accurately fall into the dream state, the Observation Hubs will amplify your brainwaves. Correspondingly, past memories might subconsciously surface—You are all psychic-sensitive MANTISes. Control your minds. In five minutes, the Hubs will officially activate. You'd best ensure you enter the dream state in perfect condition."

"Relax, Dr. SPACY. It's not everyone's first time facing the Honkai. Speaking of which, Aunt Blanca just teased me for nagging earlier. Looks like you're the same! Is it a common affliction among handsome men?" Michael's words were both teasing and a subtle attempt to help everyone relax.

SPACY habitually took a swig of alcohol, only to find the flask empty.

He retorted with a wry smile, "Michael, those self-praising words sound cute coming from Ely, but why do they make people feel uncomfortable coming from you?"

Everyone chuckled in unison. At this point, whether it was tension, fear, or relief, all were buried beneath the lighthearted atmosphere.

SPACY looked up at Michael again, unable to resist adding a final instruction:

"I don't know what exactly you want to verify, but since you're not a psychic-sensitive MANTIS, you need to be extra careful... Forget it, looks like you didn't make this decision impulsively, so you must have your reasons. Anyway, take care! All of you, take care!"

His words were naturally met with a chorus of agreement. Who wouldn't want a few blessings before heading onto the battlefield?

SPACY raised his hand and checked his watch.

Time was such a contradictory, elusive thing. Five minutes could sometimes feel agonizingly long, like holding it in desperately waiting for class to end—often feeling longer than a lifetime. But at this moment, it passed in the blink of an eye.

"Alright! Time's about up. Let's reiterate the mission one last time. You are all warriors chosen from thousands within Fire Moth. Next, you will enter the dreamscape created by the Herrscher. Remember, it is a dream. No matter how beautiful, it is just a dream!"

"Your task is to break free from the dream's shackles, then use the abilities granted by your ICHOR factors to reverse-trace the Herrscher's location. Regardless of success or failure, the Observation Hubs will reboot in ten minutes and pull your consciousness out. Understood?"

"Understood!"

Looking at the young, eager faces, SPACY took a deep breath and pressed the button to formally activate the Observation Hubs.

Initially, Michael felt nothing unusual, as if nothing happened after SPACY pressed the button.

It strongly reminded him of receiving anesthesia during surgery. Some people think their willpower can resist it, but in reality... in reality...

Michael's vision blurred sometime later. Then, two black shutters, top and bottom, struggled briefly before slamming shut.

His last thought before succumbing to sleep was:

"That old fox SPACY, he still chose to hide part of the truth from them after all."

No, actually, in a way, he hadn't hidden the truth.

"Regardless of success or failure, the Observation Hubs will reboot in ten minutes and pull your consciousness out."

The phrase "regardless of success or failure," if considered carefully, naturally referred to the action of "finding the Herrscher" after breaking free from her dream.

Meaning, if one failed to break free from the Herrscher's dream within ten minutes, even the forced reboot of the Observation Hub might not awaken them.

And if even the forced reboot couldn't awaken someone, it implied that forced intervention by other psychic-sensitive MANTISes likely wouldn't work either.

Of course, there was another scenario: someone encounters the Herrscher directly within the dream and has their consciousness instantly erased.

Yes, that's right.

Regardless of which situation occurred.

It meant death.

Bright sunlight seeped through the gaps in the blinds, heralding another new and beautiful day.

"Urgh..." Michael forced open his heavy eyelids. The first thing he saw was the vaguely familiar... computer?

He rubbed his eyes, flicking away sleep crust into the nearby trash bin. As he did so, the faint, almost negligible sense of unfamiliarity gradually dissipated.

He wasn't sleeping in bed, obviously, otherwise, he wouldn't see the computer first thing in the morning. This wasn't the bedroom, but the study.

As he slowly straightened up, the blanket draped over his back slid down, thankfully caught by the chair back before hitting the floor.

His stretching arms accidentally nudged the mouse. The computer screen lit up, revealing a half-written Word document.

"Yaaawn!"

Outside the window, yellow birds chirped twice, as if echoing him.

"Knock knock knock— Rat-a-tat-tat-tat— Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!"

Elysia's unique knocking pattern sounded from behind the door. Michael's mind quickly pictured the scene—her leaning languidly against the doorframe, a mischievous smile playing on her lips, four knuckles dancing across the door, producing a series of light, unknown tunes.

Before Michael could respond, she opened the door and walked in.

"Couldn't sleep again last night?" She came up behind Michael, cupped his head with her hands, and gently massaged his temples with her slightly cool middle fingers.

"Sorry, got up in the middle of the night to write. Didn't wake you guys, did I?" As soon as the words left his mouth, Michael realized he'd said something redundant—if Elysia hadn't been woken up, who put the blanket on him?

"You just can't break the habit of writing at night, even after moving out of the Golden Courtyard?" Elysia's hands gently covered Michael's eyes. She applied slight pressure, and Michael soon felt the back of his head sink into a warm, soft paradise.

"Ah, well, I like writing at night not just because it's quieter and easier to concentrate, but also because inspiration flows more freely then. But I didn't expect that once it became a habit, falling asleep at night would become harder." He had probably gotten up around 2 AM, written until 4 or 5 AM. Now it wasn't even 7 AM yet.

Anyone who has pulled an all-nighter knows that after staying up all night, one feels very energetic in the morning. But if you give in around dawn and sleep for just two or three hours, upon waking, not only is your head foggy, but your eyes are particularly sore.

But just Elysia's touch, the lingering warmth from her fragrant palms, seemed to ease the soreness in Michael's eyes.

"Oh dear! Just take a nap at noon! Get up and wash up now! Coffee's ready for you too!"

"Mmm-hmm!" Michael hummed twice, but his body remained stubbornly glued to the chair.

"Get up already! I'll go make breakfast. After you wash up, remember to wake Eve too!"

Michael stood up, stretched, and shuffled slowly while murmuring his protest: "Why wake the child up so early? Let her sleep in!"

"Early to bed and early to rise makes a body healthy! Good habits start young! You don't want her ending up like you back in the Golden Courtyard, never sleeping before dawn, never waking before afternoon!"

Although Elysia was criticizing him, her tone, like scolding a small child, and her posture, hands on hips, pouting lips, completely lacked the seriousness and authority appropriate for criticism...

Was it even... kind of cute?

Anyway, Michael couldn't resist reaching out, just as he had countless times in childhood, and poking her cheek.

The skin yielded slowly under his touch, then sprang back quickly after his finger withdrew

leaving a pink flush, the same color as her hair.

Taking advantage of her embarrassment, Michael muttered softly, "I rely on writing to support the family... Fine, fine! Even if she needs to wake up early, isn't seven o'clock a bit too early for her? Let's wait until eight to call her."

Elysia's lips moved for a long time before she managed to utter a rather baffling sentence: "You always spoil her like this!"

Michael's face filled with confusion. He frowned, widened his eyes, tilted his head, and retorted, "Elysia, search your heart. Between the two of us, who spoils her more?"

Elysia raised an eyebrow, her eyes widening slightly, lips twitching. After holding it in for a long moment, she squeezed out: "It's... it's precisely because I always spoil him that you need to be stricter with him! Forget it, forget it, eight o'clock it is. You go wash up quickly!"

She gently pushed Michael's back, nudging him out of the study. Michael watched her lean against the wall alone, cupping her own flushed cheeks, then glare at him once more before turning efficiently to close the blinds, open the window, and let out the stale air that had accumulated overnight.

Michael shook his head. His breathing felt heavy, but not from sleepiness.

He walked into the bathroom, splashed a handful of water onto his face, feeling his mind clear considerably.

And it was this clarity that made him feel utterly ridiculous.

"So this is all I craved... A wife, a child, a warm home, is that it?"

After washing up, he downed the coffee Elysia had prepared in one gulp, then sat at the dining table, listening to her hum a little tune while frying eggs.

Michael had heard Kevin describe his dream before. Of course, one didn't need a special person to describe it; just thinking about it made it clear that what appeared in these dreams must be what a person desired most.

But Michael stared at the checkered pattern on the tablecloth, silent.

Was what this dream presented truly what he craved?

He couldn't say for sure. After all, few people truly understand what they want. Only when that thing is placed right before them, or even destroyed, do they realize how desperately they desired it.

But figuring out if what he saw before him was what he truly wanted? That, conversely, was simple.

At the very least, Michael didn't dislike this kind of life; he could even say he yearned for it. But he felt no lingering attachment whatsoever.

What was going on?

Was it because he knew from the start it was a dream, thus holding no dependence on its contents?

No. The fragility of human nature dictated that even knowing the beauty before you is just a dream, one couldn't bear to destroy it.

That left only one possibility. Michael's fist hidden beneath the table clenched abruptly.

Elysia soon brought breakfast over. Michael looked at the food placed before him but made no move.

He suddenly stood up, walked behind Elysia, and hugged her, crossing his arms in front of her chest, resting his cheek against her head, inhaling the fragrance of her hair.

"Alright, alright, Michael! Cuddling can wait a bit! It's breakfast time now!"

But Michael neither moved nor spoke.

"Mi... Urk! Cough cough... You..." Michael's arms tightened around her neck, refusing to yield no matter how she struggled.

He just watched the person he loved most struggle in his arms, gasping, convulsing, watched her legs flail, kicking over the dining table, watched the breakfast she had carefully prepared, even the heart-patterned plate, shatter on the floor... until she finally fell silent.

He narrowed his eyes—Not her?

Elysia's still warm body suddenly dissolved into grey mist.

The mist flowed like ribbons through Michael's body, converging in the bedroom behind him.

Michael couldn't help but scoff: "I see. If you had directly transformed into her, it would be hard not to see through the flaws. So you chose to become a point I would most easily overlook. But thank you for naming my and Ely's child, Eve—no, Eighth Herrscher."

Michael walked into the bedroom. The infant's body was long gone. Appearing before him was a pair of blood-red eyes hidden behind the grey mist.