Dream Walker

The mobile team was shaken to its core. They had come to the stark realization that they were way out of their depth. What had started as a strange but manageable mission to contain an infected outbreak had spiraled into something far more surreal. It was as if the world had suddenly shifted genres—from a tense, ghost-hunting action sequence to a full-blown, fantastical battle between gods. They were just mortals, caught in the crossfire of a clash between two titanic forces, and all they could do was cower and hope to survive.

The atmosphere was thick with tension and disbelief. The sky above them had been torn asunder by the battle, and the ground trembled with every powerful blow exchanged between the combatants. On one side was Moon Knight, his white cloak billowing like the wings of an avenging angel. On the other was the masked man, a figure of menace who seemed to command the very fabric of reality itself. The earth shook, and the air buzzed with energy as the two clashed, each strike more devastating than the last.

But finally, the seemingly endless battle reached its conclusion. Moon Knight's next punch connected squarely with the masked man's face, and the impact was nothing short of catastrophic. The white mask, which had previously hidden the man's identity, crumbled under the force of the blow. It shattered into a thousand pieces, the fragments scattering like confetti in the wind. The masked man's head snapped back violently, and he staggered before collapsing onto his back, blood spurting from his mouth.

For a brief moment, time seemed to slow down. The sound of his cheekbones shattering echoed in his ears like distant thunder, a deep, resonant noise that drowned out everything else. His cane, which had been his tool of power, was knocked from his grasp and clattered away across the ground. The man's body, once poised and confident, now fell heavily, the elegance of his tuxedo starkly contrasting with the violence of his fall.

As his body hit the ground, the world around them began to change. The reality they had been fighting in, the world that had seemed so solid and terrifying, began to dissolve like a mirage. The enormous tentacled monster that had towered over them, its many limbs writhing with malevolent intent, flickered and then vanished into thin air. The landscape, which had been torn apart by the battle, began to revert to its original state. The sunken buildings that had appeared on the verge of collapse now stood tall and unscathed, as if nothing had ever happened.

The infected creatures, which had seemed so real and so dangerous just moments before, also disappeared. The agents, who had been firing their weapons at what they thought were real enemies, suddenly found themselves shooting at nothing but empty space. Confusion swept through the ranks as they began to realize the extent of the deception. Some agents looked around in bewilderment, finding that they had been wrestling with shadows or grappling with their own teammates, mistaking them for enemies in the chaos.

Melanie, who had been caught in the thick of it, frantically scanned the battlefield. The infected figure she had been facing just moments before had vanished. Her heart pounded in her chest as she turned toward where the masked man had fallen, expecting to see him there.

But what she saw left her breathless with shock.

There was no masked man. The figure that Moon Knight had been beating mercilessly was not the ominous figure in the white mask, but the very infected woman they had initially set out to capture.

The woman's body was riddled with bullet holes, her flesh torn and bloodied. Her head was shattered, with half of her brain grotesquely exposed, yet somehow, she was still alive. A low, pained moan escaped her lips as she muttered, "No... my child, no one can take my child..."

The horrifying realization dawned on them.

There had never been a masked man at all, no reinforcements of infected, and certainly no giant tentacled creature. They had all been deceived by an ability user who had never even shown themselves. This unseen assailant had dragged them into a massive, elaborate dream, a carefully constructed nightmare where reality and illusion blended seamlessly. The infected hordes, the monstrous entities, the space-warping distortions—all of it had been a fabrication of the dream maker.

The masked man? He was nothing more than the infected woman, transformed within the dream to become the embodiment of their fears. Her movements had been controlled by the dream master, turning her into a puppet for their twisted game.

From the very beginning, when the mobile team had smoked the infected out of the building and opened fire, they had already been ensnared in the dream. Every action they had taken, every enemy they had fought, had been nothing more than an illusion, a figment of the dream maker's imagination. The infected woman had never been subdued; she had never even been truly present.

On Charlie's end, after the moon god Kongsu had enhanced his abilities, he had maneuvered Moon Knight to approach the masked man. As he got closer, the illusions began to fall away, revealing the truth. On Charlie's screen, the masked man dissolved, and the image of the infected woman took his place.

Elsewhere...

A man's previously tense body relaxed.

He sat in an elegantly furnished room, his posture refined, dressed in an immaculate tuxedo. A swirling mask obscured his features, and an oddly shaped cane leaned against the armrest of his chair. Behind the mask, his eyes narrowed in thought.

"It doesn't look like it went well," he mused, his tone calm but laced with irritation.

A sultry female voice broke the silence from behind him.

A woman approached, her every step radiating confidence and allure. She was a vision of temptation, her sparse clothing revealing more than it concealed. Her curves were barely covered by the fabric, leaving large swathes of pale skin exposed. The long slit in her skirt reached up to her hips, and the way she moved suggested that she might be wearing nothing underneath.

Every movement she made was a deliberate display of seduction, her hips swaying, her lips curling into a knowing smile. A faint, intoxicating fragrance trailed behind her as she moved closer to the man in the mask.

There's an old saying that "some things may look pure on the outside but be wild on the inside," but there are also those who say, "Even if there's a black hole there, it's a place I'd explore in my lifetime." Men aren't unreasonable, but when the head below takes control, the one above can only follow.

However, the man in the mask seemed entirely unaffected by her presence. He didn't even flinch as she approached, his mind still preoccupied with the events that had just transpired.

"Dreams have no effect on him," he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to her. "But that's impossible."

"Oh? There are still people who can resist the 'Dream Walker'?"

The woman's voice was playful, tinged with curiosity. She draped a snow-white arm over the man's shoulder, her body pressing against his as she leaned in close.

"Who could be so special?"

The masked man calmly shrugged off her touch, his voice cold and detached. "A white knight. We've never met before, but he is powerful... and not only that. He can see through illusions and perceive reality even within the dreamscape."

"Oh? So powerful?"

The woman's laughter was light, almost musical. She didn't seem the least bit deterred by the man's aloofness. Instead, she leaned in closer, her body brushing against his as she casually displayed her assets.

"Then... do you want me to handle him?"

She asked with a confident smile, her tone seductive.

"No matter how strong he is, he's still a man. And as long as he's a man, he has weaknesses. You just need to know how to exploit them..."

"No." The masked man interrupted, his voice sharp, giving her a sidelong glance. "Put away your tricks. Not everyone is susceptible to your games. He's a strong fighter, perhaps a disciplined one... but it doesn't matter. He was unexpected, but he's not insurmountable. He won't be so lucky next time..."

"Then why not go in and deal with him now?" the woman teased, toying with his bow tie.

The masked man hesitated, his thoughts momentarily disrupted. He stared at her through the mask, his gaze cold and calculating.

The woman giggled, "You're not sure, are you? Because you're not as confident as you claim. Oh, don't tell me you have other plans for him—like the dead villains love to say in movies, it's not that complicated.

The truth is simple. The white knight... he scares you, doesn't he?

Because you've met someone you can't control, someone who isn't affected by your dreams, someone you can't read or manipulate, someone you don't understand..."

As she spoke, she moved closer, until she was almost whispering in his ear.

Her hand slid from his shoulder to his chest as she spoke softly.

"Don't worry, I know how it feels. That long-forgotten sensation when something exceeds your expectations, when something makes you question your own power..."

The masked man suddenly grabbed her wrist, stopping her from moving further.

"Everyone has fears, deep down, their worst nightmares. And unfortunately for them, digging those up is what I do best," the masked man said in a low, menacing voice.

"Just wait. The white knight—whoever he is—I'll find his fears and torment him with the darkest nightmares.

Until he's exhausted, desperate, trapped in a nightmare of endless cycles, his spirit broken...

...then I'll mercifully grant him death."

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