Re:Crafting in Another World
Chapter 129: Nightmare

Chapter 129: Nightmare

Christina stood with her arms folded tightly, eyes narrowed at the silent crystal ceiling above. Her expression betrayed none of her inner turmoil, but when she finally spoke, her voice was laced with sharp bitterness.

"You should be more worried about yourself, Shennong," she said without looking at him. "At this point... they might call us traitors. Harboring a fugitive. Opposing the Crown."

Cassandra looked between the two with mild amusement, but Shennong only gave a short breath, part sigh and part chuckle.

"In their eyes, we’re just kidnapping victims," he said, walking slowly toward Yenissa’s bed. "No one’s thinking straight with all these dungeons sprouting up."

He crouched beside Yenissa, his fingers brushing a lock of her hair away from her pale forehead. She lay still, yet her face was no longer lifeless—there was the faintest blush to her cheeks now. Her breathing, shallow before, had evened out.

Rilith stood at her right, Velara at her left—both weary, both watching him closely.

"She showed no change until a few hours ago," Rilith murmured. "Then... suddenly, her skin warmed. Color returned."

"We thought she might wake," Velara added. "But she’s still asleep."

Shennong nodded slowly, his fingers tightening.

"It worked then," he said quietly to himself. "What we did to the entity... it’s linked. She’s not fully free yet, but the bond’s weakening."

A spark of resolve burned behind his eyes.

"Soon she’ll recover," he whispered. "And we already have what we need."

He stood and, from the corner of his vision, spotted Romina—the strange mercenary girl with amethyst eyes leaning silently against a pillar. She met his gaze with something unreadable.

Why do I feel like I know her... like she’s part of something I forgot?

He frowned. It wasn’t the time. His fingers curled into a fist.

No more distractions.

Now was the time to confront Juno—and the entity that lived within his cursed blade.

Shennong turned and walked toward the back of the room where a reinforced magical device stood humming—a massive cylindrical prism of crystal and steel. Inside, two bodies were suspended in separate chambers: one, a hulking orc Mutator restrained by layers of enchanted chains; the other, Juno, unconscious, restrained in glowing manacles that shimmered with seal-script.

Both were part of his latest gambit.

Shennong stared at Juno, the once-noble knight now motionless, corrupted armor fused into his skin, twitching faintly with residual magic. His eyes were closed, his expression oddly peaceful for someone who had raged so ferociously before.

He’s the perfect specimen... Shennong thought. The ideal vessel. The perfect intersection of man and monster.

His hand hovered above the activation rune.

But if I press this button... if I take the next step now...I would be able to see how mutator works and whether Shennong’s creation was a success.

Mandira would turn on him. She might already be suspicious. But if he killed Juno—even unintentionally—it would be open war between them.

He drew his hand back.

"Not today," he muttered. "Later."

Instead, he pulled a small crystal from his robe—a communication prism.

He pressed it against Juno’s forehead.

The crystal flared to life, forming a spectral link between Shennong’s thoughts and Juno’s mind.

"I don’t know how effective Mandira’s magic are...but I guess it is worth a try,"

***

Sir Juno sat beneath the golden canopy of a tree in full bloom. Petals floated lazily in the air, drifting down like snow in spring. He leaned back against the bark with a soft sigh, eyes half-lidded.

"Papa! You promised you’d play knights with me today!"

A tiny voice burst through the peace.

He looked down just in time to see a small blur of motion—his daughter, Mira—rushing at him with a wooden sword in both hands, oversized for her tiny frame.

Juno let out a laugh and caught her as she jumped into his lap. "Ah, Sir Mira the Brave! Come to challenge the Great Knight Juno again, have you?"

"I’ll win this time!" Mira giggled.

"I bet you will," he said, smiling wide.

A soft laugh came from nearby.

His wife, Elia, walked toward them, holding a basket of fruits in one arm and shielding her eyes from the sun with the other. Her auburn hair shimmered like copper, and her smile—it could disarm nations.

"Mira," she called, "don’t pounce on your father like that. Let him rest a bit."

"Nooo! He promised!" Mira protested, frowning deeply.

Juno held up his hands in surrender. "A knight keeps his word. I did promise."

Elia chuckled. "Fine, fine. Just don’t come crying to me when he uses the tickle spell again."

Mira gasped. "No fair, no magic!"

Juno leaned down, whispering. "Then you must use your secret technique."

"The spin attack?"

He nodded solemnly.

Mira grinned like a devil.

And the dream rolled on—bright and full of warmth.

Juno ran through sunlit fields with Mira on his shoulders. He stole a kiss from Elia while pretending to sneak up like a bandit. He sat by the fire in the evening, Elia resting her head on his shoulder while Mira slept in his arms.

It was perfect.

Until—

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The sky flickered.

The golden canopy turned black and pulsed with static.

Juno blinked.

"What...?"

He looked down.

His hands were red.

Soaked.

Dripping.

A sword rested between his fingers—his sword. But it was no longer wooden. No longer a symbol of training or protection. It was jagged. Twisted. Alive.

Blood pooled beneath him.

"Elia?" he whispered.

Mira?

They lay at his feet.

Eyes wide. Still.

Unmoving.

Their blood—their blood—spilled beneath the same tree he had just rested under. The petals had turned crimson, curling in on themselves like dying leaves.

"No... no no no no..."

Juno stumbled back, dropping the sword. His hands trembled violently.

"I didn’t... I didn’t—"

Suddenly, their bodies twitched.

Mira’s small hands flexed.

Elia’s head turned with a creaking snap.

And then, in unison, they sat up—unnaturally stiff—faces pale, hollow, eyes dark and empty like porcelain dolls.

"...Papa..." Mira’s voice came, but it was flat. Cold.

"...You said you would protect us..." Elia whispered.

Juno’s breath caught.

He stumbled backward.

"I—I would never hurt you—"

"You promised..." Mira said again.

"I didn’t... I couldn’t..."

The petals overhead began to fall again—but they were sharp now. Like blades. Slicing the air as they fell, leaving behind thin, dark trails.

Juno turned and ran.

But no matter how far he went, he couldn’t escape the forest. The golden tree. The blood.

The sword.

And then he heard the laugh.

Low. Cruel. Echoing through the warped dreamscape like thunder.

"You can’t outrun truth, Juno."

He stopped dead.

His sword was back in his hand.

Dripping.

A figure stood behind him—its body cloaked in shadow, with a face hidden behind a tattered hood. But its eyes... they glowed. Like twin stars dying out.

Juno spun to face it, teeth clenched. "What are you?"

The figure didn’t answer.

Instead, it stepped forward and raised a hand. Mirrors of light formed around Juno.

Each one showed a different scene—him standing over the body of a bandit, grinning manically. Him killing a man in cold blood. Him holding Mira’s lifeless body again and again and again.

Juno clutched his head, groaning. "Stop it—stop—!"

"You liked it," the figure whispered. "You chose it. Power. Rage. You called to me."

"No!" Juno screamed. "That’s not true!"

The figure took another step.

"You were weak. And I gave you strength."

"I’m not yours—!"

"You are mine."

The ground split open beneath him, and chains of darkness shot out, wrapping around his arms, his legs, dragging him down into the pit.

"No—Elia—Mira—I’m sorry—I didn’t—"

"You chose this path," the voice hissed. "And now... you will walk it until there is nothing left of you."

Suddenly, hands emerged from the pit—his wife’s, his daughter’s—pulling at him, their hollow eyes wide with silent screams.

"I’ll never forgive myself—!"

"You were never meant to," the figure said.

Juno let out a cry of anguish, and his eyes snapped open.

The room was cold.

Damp.

He was no longer in the dream, but in a chamber—dimly lit and humming with quiet magical power.

His arms were bound in thick metal restraints, wires embedded with glowing runes running through his limbs and chest. He could feel pressure at his temples—something monitoring his thoughts, his emotions.

And across from him...

The orc.

Its massive body was slumped in a similar containment, though its eyes glowed faintly—aware. Watching.

Shennong stood beside the console. He had one hand resting on the button that would activate the experiment, but he didn’t press it.

Juno groaned. "What... what is this?"

"You’re awake," Shennong said without looking at him. "I was wondering when you were going to wake up form that horrible nightmare."

Juno’s lips twitched. "Nightmare..."

Shennong turned slowly to face him, eyes cold but curious.

"So tell me Sir Juno what does your sword have to dow tih your family?"

Juno bared his teeth. "Never say that again. Never speak of my family."

"Well no can do because my family is threatened because of you. I will dog everything about you until I get the answers I need now,"

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