Who Said A Necromancer Can't Be A Priest?-Chapter 67: Eleanor’s Nightmare (2)

As the night fell, Aaran changed into his most comfortable pajamas. If he was invading someone's dream, he might as well look stylish while doing it. Once done, he took the seat beside Princess Eleanor, her hand in his, and then… fell asleep.

Donovan and the Emperor sat opposite to them, watching every reaction carefully. Aaran had asked them to wake him up forcefully if need be. For now, he had ten hours to save the princess.

Do your best, Aaran Von Aurelia. Your life depends on it.

The Emperor didn't utter a word but kept repeating those words in his head like a mantra.

***

When Aaran opened his eyes, he wasn't sitting on the chair anymore but was lying on the bed. It was the same room but it felt different.

Unlike before, there wasn't a shred of darkness around him. Sunlight streamed through the window, making the once-cold room feel warm and comfortable.

"Should I thank the gods?" Aaran mumbled.

He had wondered where he would end up when he woke up. After experiencing the dream dungeon, he knew anything was possible in a dream.

Luckily, he was somewhere familiar. It made sense, though. The princess had been in Eternal Sleep for four years. She was only seven when it happened and had never left the palace. So, she was trapped in the only place she knew.

"Now then, where is she?"

As he stepped out of the room, he noticed the apparent changes. The walls looked different. The decorations were all over the place. It was like someone had hastily put everything in place.

But the most noticeable thing was the lack of people.

He had always seen the palace hustling and bustling with people. But the dream was oddly silent. It meant one thing.

The one who cursed Eleanor was in a hurry.

At least their hastiness would help Aaran find her faster. The palace was eerily quiet, except for someone's whimpering. He followed the sound and found himself standing before a hall.

Princess Eleanor was there, badly bruised. But she wasn't alone.

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A lady, probably in her early thirties, stood there, a stick in her hand, hitting Eleanor repeatedly. Neither of them noticed the uninvited spectator.

"You're a curse on this family!" the lady yelled, hitting Eleanor again. "Go prepare tea again, and this time do it properly!"

Eleanor sniffed, wiping away her tears. She got up and began preparing tea for the lady.

"Four years… we've been at this for four years," the woman grumbled. "Yet, you haven't learned a thing. How can I raise such a useless daughter?"

Daughter?

Aaran tried recalling anything about the Empress, but nothing came to mind. Not only that, no one ever mentioned her at all. Everyone had a portrait of theirs hung around the palace, but Aaran he never seen her.

It was even strange that he never questioned the Emperor about it. It almost felt natural not to talk about it. Aaran made a mental note to ask the Emperor about it later. For now, he had to get the princess out of there.

Eleanor handed over the cup with trembling hands. The woman watched her, carefully assessing her every movement. Once she took the cup, Eleanor bowed and backed away, her head low.

"Acceptable posture," the woman commented, before taking a sip.

Clutter!

The next moment, the teacup ended up on the floor as the woman grabbed the stick again.

"You worthless imbecile—!"

"Stop right there."

The stick froze in midair as the woman turned around. Her eyes widened at the sight of an unwanted guest there. Princess Eleanor had a similar reaction.

She had spent countless days in that room, calling for help, but no one appeared. Eventually, she gave up hope and resigned to her fate. Why did someone appear there to help her when she wanted nothing more than death?

WHY?

She wanted to ask that, but no words came out of her mouth. Instead, her eyes fell on her mother, who appeared angrier than she ever did.

"Who are you, boy?" the Empress asked. "Who gave you permission to interrupt our lesson?"

"I guess… It'd be your husband? I can't be sure, since he never told me about you." Aaran shrugged.

"Father… sent you?" Eleanor mumbled, tears streaming down her eyes.

Four years. She had been trapped in the nightmare for four long years. She had begged for her father to save her. Yet he never came.

Eleanor thought he had moved on, perhaps had another child to shower them with love. And now a stranger said her father had sent him to help? She didn't want to believe it, but she couldn't help but trust the boy before her.

Aaran smiled and curtly bowed towards her.

"Yes, Princess, he has sent me to help you—"

"IMPOSSIBLE!" the Empress yelled, throwing away the stick. "That demon, she swore no one would interrupt us. Not till I took over her body!"

With that sentence, things clicked into place. The Empress must have come into contact with a demon after dying. The demon gave her a deal, cursed Eleanor, and placed the Empress's spirit in Eleanor's body.

The Empress must have tried driving Eleanor's spirit out of her body. But thanks to the darkness the Emperor fed Eleanor, she was about to withstand the treatment for so long.

I guess I was unnecessarily harsh on Trantua.

If the Emperor had stopped dousing Eleanor in darkness, the Empress would have taken over her body and no one would have known a thing. The Emperor's stubbornness had saved Eleanor's life.

Aaran smiled, but as he did, the Empress's anger flared up.

"You dare laugh at me?" she yelled.

"Laugh at you? No. I was laughing at this absurd situation."

There was only one place where two spirits could fight and inflict wounds on one another.

This place wasn't a dream, but a spirit realm, like the one Aaran used to fight Darius.

Aaran's smile widened as he manifested his core.

"I thought this would be difficult, but this will be quick."

Aaran laughed as the hastily constructed palace crumbled, replaced by his darkness.

"Spirits? I can deal with them any time of the day."

They were in his domain now.