There can't be a Harvest Moon in the RimWorld.

As I expected, the first three layers of the dream were all reflections and variations of fragments from real-life experiences. No matter how colorful they were, they could not escape the root of their existence. And I have been able to identify these roots as a type of information.

That's right, it's information, the foundation of the modern myth that "Professor Craven" devoutly serves.

On a macro level, everything from abandoned stone slabs on the banks of the Euphrates River to black holes that have just swallowed asteroids is an undeniable carrier of information, and even a part of information itself. The only difference is that the information of lost civilizations cannot be read by modern people, while the information on the surface of black holes cannot be understood by humans. I find it hard to imagine whether there are truly deserts without information in the universe.

The dream world, this ethereal and illusory world, can also become a new world formed by the collision, fusion, splitting, and re-creation of various kinds of information. Every second, it rapidly generates an unimaginable torrent of information, surging across the surface of the largest abyss in history.

But starting from the twilight dream, things gradually started to go wrong.

This needs to be explained by the composition of information.

Simply put, information can be divided into two categories: information that humans can understand and information that humans cannot understand.

The first three layers of dreams contain small pieces of information that humans can understand but usually overlook. These trickles of information occasionally converge into a river, leaving a spark of inspiration in the minds of imaginative artists.

But as the twilight dream comes to an end, even more incomprehensible information will surge from the sea of ​​consciousness, mixing into a turbulent undercurrent that shakes the very foundations of the edifice of consciousness. Only the most fanatical artist, under the influence of drugs, could discern even a fraction of the visible colors within it…

Anyone with even a sliver of consciousness would never realize that the edifice of memory was built out of thin air on a turbulent sea, where a single wave could completely capsize it!

This terrifying thought differs from the terrors of the universe; it is based on a unique understanding of the self. If the concept of the self could collapse in an instant, then every experience in the present moment would be like the futile efforts of someone building sandcastles on the beach; every daily experience would be a continuous series of miracles.

The terrifying thoughts hidden deep in the subconscious are the original material of the fourth and fifth layers of dreams, which are also endless dreams. They can no longer be described or touched by language or consciousness.

When I persuaded Kai to open his eyes, I already suspected I was in a dream. I believed Kai was building a castle based on his memories, housing my and Gray's consciousnesses, turning it into a meaningless adventure.

This is why Elliott, who remained in a coma, suffered from a steady, unchanging pain, neither worsening nor improving, as if he could never wake up from his nightmare.

But now, the dream I'm in is starting to get out of control.

Kay's first dream possessed the most stable qualities. That infinite space was a projection of his ancient memories, with knowledge constantly flowing into his brain.

However, once that barrier is broken, whether it's encountering unidentified creatures in an empty airplane cabin or being adrift on a passenger ship in dangerous waters, these are all suspicious memories of unknown origin. Given Kay's life experience, how was he able to vividly recount these two extremely bizarre experiences to me?

During this time, inside the airplane cabin, I was able to maintain my self-awareness and observe and listen to their conversations in a third-person perspective. The order in which my memories unfolded was not much different from that of a movie.

But upon entering the second dream, the story suddenly takes a clear reverse chronological order. The details of the story are jumbled up due to the use of jumps and omissions, and the relationships between characters and the logic of the story become perplexing.

Finally, I entered the third story, and I couldn't even feel my own existence. It was like a person who is dreaming forgetting that they are dreaming, completely believing that they are a butterfly dancing among the leaves.

Within these bizarre and fantastical stories lies a terrifying journey from "id—ego—superego," attempting to imprison my thoughts and leave an indelible, terrifying mark on my soul. It is the somber face depicted in the dreamscape—a dream composed of unfathomable space and unbound time—that lies hidden in the deepest, most secret, and most forbidden cave at the bottom of the dream world. This face is now strangely and terrifyingly replicated by the dream.

I vaguely guessed that the collapse of the three layers of dreams originated from a single glance from Professor Craven, and even my journey of falling layer by layer into the abyss of dreams was guided by the gray mist gate hidden in Professor Craven's eyes.

Once again assessing my situation, I realize, in a sense, that I am once again facing an unprecedented life-or-death crisis. A moment in a dream is eternity, existence in a dream is annihilation, and immortality in a dream is utter death.

This final awakening of the "self" is likely a last gasp before death, because the "I" representing "Marcus" is already in a dying state...

Kay's dreams are probably a subconscious attempt to build a fortress against some hidden force. And now, the only place I can find refuge is this chaotic space at dusk.

The copy before me is the last vessel of my self-awareness. Once I continue to be pulled by the mysterious force and sink completely into the depths of this chaotic dream, the copy will vanish entirely. Some unknown entity will continue to spin wildly, seizing my consciousness, until I break through that endless void barrier that transcends all thought and form, and confront the terrifying figure in the deep sea!

Even more unfortunate is the fact that the copy before me is as cold as marble to the touch. The messy strokes no longer leave behind words, but rather cosmic rifts pierced by iron-like strokes. Aggregates darker than ink gradually seep into my sanctuary, an untouchable abyss of hell, with dried bloodstains of shattered space, flashing before my eyes...

Chapter 620 The House of Dreams (Also known as Imprisoned with God)

As the invisible wall teetered on the brink of collapse, the ancient manuscript text before me flipped through the pages rapidly. The words on the paper, which appeared quickly with each thought, were flying by at an even faster pace.

No matter how fast I try to think, trying to find a way out of the dream crisis in the blink of an eye, I can't escape the ever-accelerating flow of my thoughts.

That elusive sense of loss was utterly despairing, because before I even realized what I had lost, the information I had gained had already been forgotten, and more and more chaotic energy was pouring in, which was no match for the terror of these outer realms.

I realized that if my self-awareness was gradually crumbling in the twilight dream, something even more terrifying and powerful would seize the opportunity to drag me into the abyss.

A sudden burst of noise erupted, occasionally punctuated by the faint barking of some enormous hunting dog, accompanied by the terrifying sounds of copper flutes and drums. Upon closer listening, one could also hear a mad singer chanting with heart-wrenching fervor, proclaiming that the forgotten king would rise from the ruins and ascend to the top of the broken and decaying sky...

What awaits those who fall into the depths of a dream? Is it a colossal vortex concealing terrifying tentacles, or a stagnant, bubbling, foul-smelling swamp? Or perhaps a grotesque creation haphazardly pieced together from chaotic fragments that no one can comprehend?

A twisted consciousness, devoid of awareness and perception, corrupted the manuscript and suddenly unfolded before me. A pure thought, transcending the five senses, passed through my body like lightning.

At that moment, I was reminded once again that the reason such terrifying thoughts lingered was because the human body could not bear them!

Judging from the stories experienced in several dreams, in a world where twilight falls and shadows loom over the inhabitants, it is possible that humanity, through evolution, could uncontrollably degenerate.

But what's more terrifying than the genetic degeneration manifested in the body are the subtle ripples that stir in human consciousness. I saw an image, probably on the shores of a boiling lake where human ancestors had just evolved a spine, and when foul greenhouse gases still permeated the fragile shell of the earth, some enormous beings, taller than mountains and more twisted than a burnt-out surface, were already staggering in the arena of bizarre biological evolution.

Wherever it passed, violent mutations and radiation intertwined, mouths full of sharp teeth sprouted from every corner of its body, and for the first time, a look of longing appeared in the chaotic and ignorant eyes of the creatures.

That indescribable being writhed clumsily across mountains and seas, disrupting everything in its chaotic state, and with its sticky, rod-shaped eyes covering its entire body, it cast a glance at the faint human ancestors lurking in the cracks of rocks, letting out an indescribable roar...

The creatures of that time were too small to even comprehend what "self-awareness" was, and could not respond to the "favor" of that being. They could only struggle to move their bodies and rely on instinct to escape the insurmountable existence.

But the lowly soul, by a twist of fate, survived and was spared the horrific death that befell the other creatures around it.

It's hard to imagine that this question was etched deep into the soul. No matter how wisdom develops, the exploration of "self-awareness" remains an unchanging problem for human society. Even if the end of the road is destruction, there will always be people who will continue to search for it without hesitation.

The obsession with sound and language has also driven human society to become increasingly interconnected. No one could have predicted that, at its root, it was a tiny accident unintentionally created by some unnamed entity.

Could this indescribable being be a god of knowledge that humanity should worship? A benevolent fire-stealer? A primordial giant representing wisdom?

No, even if he is a god, he is just a plague god who spreads barbarity and chaos!

This fleeting memory, disregarding time and blood ties, settles in the consciousness of these tiny creatures, becoming the eternally inexplicable material for countless nightmares and midnight awakenings.

Because the memories that are completely ingrained in our blood and soul all tell the story of what we saw back then, and are truly admonitions worth remembering forever...

Don't look directly at it!

Do not respond!

Don't seek out the unusual!

The fear inherited from ancient times has transformed into a desire for life, bursting forth from my body at this moment. It has finally completed the last piece of the puzzle for exploring the unknown. In addition to the Voynich Historical Manuscript, which represents information and memory, a gleaming bronze ring suddenly appeared on my finger, illuminating this narrow space where the strangeness was gradually encroaching!

But I discovered that every reflected light was distorted into incomprehensible information, multiplying and interconnecting at a speed that was difficult for human vision to discern, eventually becoming a radiant monster that was constantly fusing and splitting. Each fragment of the mirror was a core that shone with a faint light, forming a vast and boundless universe that was barely held together by the fragments!

Countless rays of light burst forth from the ruptured space, like dazzling fireworks before rebirth. I felt as if I had mastered a peerless martial art similar to the Uranium Light Wave Fist, my body as clear as crystal (Nuclear Explosion Limited Skin), my divine light as bright as the sun (Nuclear Explosion Limited Skin). The intense light waves not only tore apart the ancient books, but also extended outward aggressively, like an eagle yearning for the sky breaking through its eggshell, hoping to spread its wings and soar.

The light pulsed with life, as if accompanied by breath, surging into a gigantic, ragged humanoid figure wearing a crown of thorns. It leaned against a sacred chariot of intertwined tentacles, gazing into the insurmountable void. It stood precariously at the crossroads of reason and chaos, like walking a tightrope on a precipice, illuminating the bizarre world that was fragmented like a mirror with its dazzling light!

The incarnation of the King of Light and the bizarre fragmented universe met on the edge of a dream that is essentially illusory and ethereal, beginning a cold confrontation that may last for hundreds of millions of years, or even extend to the end of space and time.

The Ring of the King's Soul's First Flame burned fiercely, transforming into a towering greatsword that appeared in the hand of the King of Light's avatar. Within it, something even brighter than light was being conceived, radiating a scorching, painful, and brutal aura, ready to lash out at the entire world at any moment.

The terrifying pain not only radiated outwards, but even I, inside the King of Light's avatar, felt an unbearable pain of being torn apart. It seemed that every cell had developed an independent will, began to wail wildly, and wanted to grow deformed limbs from this body and escape!

The image of the priest, who had been transformed into a flesh-and-blood monster by the King of Light in a parallel world, suddenly appeared in my mind.

If this continues, I estimate that I too will be transformed into a pile of eyeball-like tentacles covered in sharp teeth and deformed bones during the confrontation between the two terrifying beings, and disappear from this world forever.

I resolutely grasped the King Soul First Flame Ring, trying to remove it from my finger, but I felt a scorching heat, like magma, flowing through my entire body. The radiant silhouette and the ragged humanoid figure in the light seemed to be watching me with a majestic gaze, and the thorn crown above my head was burning fiercely, bursting out with even more intense rays!

I was tearing at my clothes on the verge of collapse when I suddenly touched the deep meme imprints on my body—while every part of my body was burning hot and on the verge of melting, only this part of my skin maintained a normal temperature!

...Oh, right.

I think I have another idea!

"You little brat, what brings you to me this time! If it's not a real emergency, I'll break your legs..."

Old Man Hook's curses sounded like heavenly music at that moment.

I quickly replied, "Emergency! Absolutely urgent!"

"Hmph, I'd like to see just how urgent it is."

"It's so urgent that I'm contacting you myself! Do you understand what that means?!"

In the last instant before my vision failed, I saw out of the corner of my eye that in the kaleidoscopic, shattered universe, all the brilliance had suddenly vanished, and a blurry silhouette of a human figure emerged from it, quietly standing in opposition to the avatar of the King of Light.

Unlike the Lord of Light, who could seize the world at any moment, the veil of light is hidden deep within the boundless stars, stirring up a fierce particle storm in the universe. It seems that if humanity rashly tears off this veil, it will go mad upon seeing the vast and distant universe behind it...

"My God, what have you gotten yourself into?!"

Suddenly, a vague wormhole collapsed on my skin, and a tentacle with wrinkled and spotted skin, topped with an eyeball, emerged, accompanied by an angry and stern rebuke.

The tentacle began to rapidly decay and wither in the terrifying light, but fortunately, a colorful light membrane quickly covered it, doing its best to block the corrosive damage for a moment.

Taking advantage of this gap, the tentacles quickly wrapped around my body, demonstrating a skill of lifting myself up by my hair. Relying on the wormhole created by the collapse of the meme imprint, they pulled me into this narrow escape passage and disappeared on the edge of this dream that was about to collapse!

Chapter 621 The Lost One (Part 1)

At this moment, a group of people huddled in a corner, shivering, helplessly watching the light outside gradually being swallowed up. In the low-ceilinged space, the light was as stingy as a miser's purse, not a single ray of light would shine through the porthole. However, what made them shiver, besides the extremely oppressive view from the window, was the constant onslaught of cold and hunger.

The old sea dog, still like a loyal house dog, stood aside with his sailor's knife in his hand, looking around slyly with ill intentions.

The captain, with a pipe dangling from his lips, stood at the doorway, scanning the cabin with hostile eyes. His attitude was as rude as the double-barreled shotgun in his hand.

Although there were more than thirty people in the cabin, not one of them dared to look him in the eye.

In their hushed whispers, one could easily glean information about the captain's vicious and brutal acts.

After all, just half a day ago, two very clear gunshots and a sudden splash rang out from the chaotic, dark fog outside the cabin, which corresponded exactly to the number of people trapped outside the cabin.

Gradually, stories began to circulate among the uneasy passengers that the harsh and detestable captain had murdered and disposed of the body, and then escaped alone from the black tide into the cabin.

What truly lends credibility to this story is the image of the middle-aged man lying on the ground, his fate unknown.

He had a noticeable, poorly bandaged wound on his chest, one hand had lost its function due to blood loss, and the other hand was nervously clutching his wallet tightly in the crook of his arm.

Without food, water, or a safe environment, the only constant companion to this unfortunate stranded ship was a terrifying black fog that swirled and filled the entire sky, surging towards it like a tidal wave...

A skinny passenger with an unkempt beard nudged the bald, skinny man next to him with his elbow, but spoke in a voice that didn't match his age.

"Kay, have you figured out what's going on here?"

Accompanying the question was the equally incongruous young voice of the bald, skinny man, "Keep your voice down, Gray... This is clearly a ship, but I can't feel the ship rocking or the engine humming..."

Kai, who had inexplicably become bald, coughed twice and continued, "It's obvious the ship has stopped, but I'm not sure if it was intentional or an accident..."

"Man-made?"

Gray looked out the window in surprise and asked, "Tell me, what kind of 'human' actions would it take to sail a boat into this swamp?"

Looking out of the porthole beside them, all they could see was an endless expanse of black mud, the sluggish, sticky netting drawing their gaze to the center of the swamp.

The surroundings were eerily silent, devoid of any sound; the only elements besides the black, rotting silt were monotonous rocks, mud, and seaweed. A distinctly putrid stench was rising, and a miasma was spreading, just as fear was already creeping among them.

Perhaps it was the absolute silence and monotonous scene that instilled fear, causing anyone who tried to gaze at the black mist to stop, accompanied by waves of nausea and dizziness.

"Don't look around!"

Old Sea Dog's curses suddenly rang out, and he walked over, stepping on an elderly passenger's hand with his boot, and maliciously shaking the hilt of his knife.

These words were directed at Gray.