Westminster Bank

"So how long will I be here this time? And how much time will pass in the outside world?"

Baron knew the price of forcibly opening the dream. For instance, back in Prole when he faced Silver Wizard Fei, he’d spent a relatively long time in the dream training with the Dragon Spear.

A realization dawned on Baron.

Gawain had given him the Dragon Spear in Prole, and the Shepherdess had taught him how to use it in the dream. Then, upon leaving the dream, he’d appeared right at the Beowulf Family’s estate during their Dragon Hunting Ceremony. He was the one who had pulled out the Dragon Spear. On top of that, his conversation with Isabella the previous night had revealed that the Dragon Spear technique he’d learned from Gawain was remarkably similar to the Beowulf Family’s own techniques.

It was all far too convenient to be a mere coincidence.

It was as if someone had foreseen that he would eventually pull the Dragon Spear from its place in Dragon Spear Plaza and had begun laying the groundwork for him long in advance.

He was about to share this suspicion with the Shepherdess, but then he remembered her role. She was a Guide, left behind specifically by the Dream Master. ’Perhaps this ’coincidence’ is actually the Dream Master’s own manipulation, a hidden hand guiding events.’

Baron had already learned the price of a loose tongue at Master Bagins’s home. Now, still within a space created by the Dream Master, he knew it was better to keep some suspicions to himself.

The Shepherdess hopped off the sheep’s back, her movements light and graceful. She answered Baron’s earlier question in a placid tone:

"Forcibly opening the dream requires a sufficient reserve of Spiritual Power. Given your current reserves, Mr. Constantine, it will take another fifteen to twenty days before I can open the dream again and send you back to the Inner Side."

’Fifteen to twenty days... converted to time on the Inner Side, that’s probably three whole days. By then, it’ll be too late.’

Baron asked, "Is there any other way to speed things up?"

The Shepherdess nodded. "There is, but it will require your cooperation, Mr. Constantine."

"How?"

"I need the Blood Race Blood in your ring."

The Shepherdess took the vial of Blood Race Blood Baron had snatched from Lankao. She poured some of it out, suspending the crimson liquid in mid-air with her Spiritual Power. "This should be enough," she said.

She returned the other half to Baron. "This is enough for your promotion to the Bronze Blood Faction."

The hovering Blood Race Blood erupted in flames—Baron’s Dragon Flame. The blood boiled and churned from the intense heat. Wisps of crimson vapor coiled around the Shepherdess like threads, seeping into her body little by little. A touch of color slowly returned to her pale, flawless face.

Once she had absorbed it all, the Shepherdess said quietly, "This Spiritual Power is sufficient. However, Mr. Constantine, I must remind you that the promotion ceremony cannot be suppressed for long. You need to drink the other half of the Blood Race Blood and complete your advancement as soon as possible."

Baron felt himself begin to sink into the damp grass, realizing he was about to leave the dream once more.

He shouted, "Since a High Tier member of the Blood Race can control me through my blood, then as a member of the Blood Faction, can I use my own blood to control them in return?"

"To do that, you would need to be a Bronze Tier Law Enforcer."

’I’m a Bronze Dragon Knight, so that shouldn’t be a problem.’

As Baron thought this, his body sank completely into the grassy field. The last thing he heard was the Shepherdess’s voice, as clear as a lark’s song, calling out, "Mr. Constantine..."

The Shepherdess gazed at the now-undisturbed, deep blue grass. After a moment of silence, she said softly, "Thank you for the flowers."

Baron snapped awake in front of the mirror. He glanced at the time and saw that only a minute had passed in the outside world.

His reflection in the mirror was still wearing the Dragon Helmet. In his eyes, the crimson pupils of a Blood Demon Hunter were slowly fading after using [Glimpse of the Mysterious Crystal]. The bloodlust that had been rampaging through his body had also temporarily vanished. It seemed the Dragon Helmet’s [Suppression] effect could even contain the instincts triggered by the promotion ceremony.

He put away the Dragon Helmet and looked around. His blood had stained nearly the entire floor of the employee lounge. With a casual snap of his fingers, he activated his [Blood Control]—an ability growing more refined as his Spiritual Power increased. The scattered blood instantly coalesced and flowed into test tubes he had prepared beforehand.

These test tubes now held most of his unused blood, ready to be used to catch an opponent off guard in a fight.

A knock came from the door—likely an employee returning to the lounge. Baron splashed some water on his face at the sink before heading out. He walked past the bewildered employee and returned to the main hall. Just as he took his seat, the venue was plunged into darkness. The auction was starting. Perfect timing.

Freya didn’t ask where he’d been. Instead, she sent him a message using her Spiritual Power. "Elder Pence is back. The auction house isn’t far from Traitor’s Cliff, and Aile hasn’t sent word back yet... Don’t tell me they’ve already started."

Baron replied in kind, using his own Spiritual Power. "The auction starting early means they anticipated our preparations. However, by my estimation, if they want to release the Mad Dragon, the Tower Master of London Tower is an obstacle they can’t possibly bypass. And since their numbers are small, it would be incredibly difficult for them to plant a mole inside."

"I’ve already had Jack pass the information to Westminster Cathedral, with instructions to emphasize it to London Tower. If the people at London Tower aren’t fools, they’ve likely already strengthened the guard over the Mad Dragon at Traitor’s Cliff."

Baron said, "And if they haven’t..."

’Then we might as well give up.’

Of course, Baron didn’t say that out loud. In truth, his very presence at the auction meant that no matter what happened next, nothing would stop him from doing what he came to do.

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