Merc Assault seemed to sense his exhaustion. "You're running out of energy. I can feel it. Your dream-form is becoming less stable. Soon you'll start fading, and when that happens, your consciousness will be trapped here permanently. Even if you're strong-willed enough not to die outright, you'll be in a coma in the real world. Might as well be dead."

"Not happening," Satou said firmly. "I'm waking up. And you're going to let me."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you're trapped here too," Satou pointed out. "You said it yourself—you've been here for decades. You can't leave until I either die or wake up. That's the nature of dream assassination, isn't it? The assassin's consciousness is linked to the target's. If I'm stuck, you're stuck."

Merc Assault was quiet for a moment. "You're smarter than I thought. Yes, that's true. But I'm patient. I can wait here forever if needed. Can you?"

"Maybe not forever," Satou admitted. "But I can outlast you. Because I have something you don't."

"Which is?"

"People who love me fighting to keep me alive in the real world," Satou said. "Every second I stay alive here, they're working to support me. What do you have? A client who hired you and then forgot about you. You're alone in here, Merc Assault. And that's your weakness."

For the first time, the assassin's confidence seemed to waver. "You're trying to get in my head. Psychological warfare. Classic technique."

"I'm stating facts," Satou replied. "Look at yourself. You're a legendary assassin reduced to taking contracts because you have nothing else. No connections. No relationships. Just an empty existence waiting for the next job. That's not living—that's just surviving."

"This is a dream realm," Merc Assault said, but their voice had lost its certainty. "Psychological attacks don't work on someone who literally controls the psychology of this space."

"Tell yourself that if it helps," Satou said. "But I've seen your techniques. You use isolation, loneliness, fear of abandonment as weapons against your targets. Which means you understand those feelings intimately. You're not some emotionless killer—you're someone who's been alone so long you've forgotten what connection feels like."

"Shut up," Merc Assault said, and now there was actual anger in their voice. "You don't know anything about me."

"I know enough," Satou pressed. "I know you're tired. I know this endless existence of taking contracts and killing people is eating at you. I know—"

"ENOUGH!"

Merc Assault exploded into motion, all pretense of measured combat abandoned. The entire nightmare realm responded to their fury—the walls of the chamber warped and twisted, reality itself breaking down. The floor became a churning sea of darkness. The ceiling split open, revealing an void filled with screaming faces.

The assassin's form multiplied, splitting into dozens of identical copies that surrounded Satou from every angle. Each one radiated lethal intent, their hands forming weapons from pure nightmare energy—swords, spears, chains, claws, all manifesting simultaneously.

"You want to know what I am?" all the copies shouted in unison, their voices overlapping into a cacophony. "I am the nightmare that ends heroes! I am the shadow that claims demon lords! I am the end of consciousness, the final dream, the last sleep from which there is no waking!"

All the copies attacked at once.

Satou's combat instinct screamed warnings from every direction. His enhanced reflexes kicked in, body moving before his mind could fully process the threats. Void Fang became a blur as he spun, cutting through the nearest attackers.

Three copies dissipated as the reality-cutting blade carved through them. But more immediately took their places, pressing in from all sides. A nightmare spear pierced his shoulder from behind. Pain exploded—real, intense pain despite this being a dream. Satou gritted his teeth and twisted, using his shadow manipulation to create a barrier that bought him a second to breathe.

But the copies were relentless. They came at him in waves, coordinating perfectly because they were all the same mind, all Merc Assault's consciousness divided and multiplied. Some attacked high while others went low. Some used ranged attacks while others closed for melee. The assault was perfectly orchestrated, leaving no openings.

Satou's damage reflection triggered on several attacks, causing some copies to stagger back. His life drain activated on others, siphoning dream-energy to heal his wounds. But for every copy he destroyed, two more appeared. The numbers were overwhelming.

A nightmare chain wrapped around his leg. Before he could cut it, another chain caught his sword arm. Then his other arm. More chains emerged from the churning floor, binding his limbs, pulling him down into the darkness.

"This is where it ends," the copies said in unison, their forms merging back into a single Merc Assault that stood over Satou. "You fought well. Better than anyone has in a century. But fighting well isn't the same as winning."

The assassin raised one hand, and a massive sword of condensed nightmare energy formed above them—easily twenty feet long, radiating power that made the air scream. "This is my domain. My realm. My rules. And in this space, I am absolute."

The sword began descending toward Satou's bound form, moving slowly, savoring the execution.

Then Satou felt it— power surging through the connection Morgana had established. Not just a trickle anymore, but a flood. She was pouring everything she had into enhancing him, strengthening him, stabilizing his dream-form beyond what should be possible.

His wounds closed instantly. His strength multiplied. The chains binding him cracked, then shattered as his enhanced power broke through them.

[Corruption Enhancement - Maximum Output] [Dream Stability - Absolute] [Power Amplification - 300%]

Satou stood, and for the first time since entering this realm, he felt truly powerful. Not just surviving, but dominating. Seraphine's buffs had transformed him into something the dream realm couldn't easily affect.

"Impossible," Merc Assault breathed, their descending sword pausing mid-strike. "That level of external support... the connection should have degraded it, filtered it, reduced it to almost nothing!"

"You underestimated the connection you build with people," Satou replied, his voice carrying new strength. "All of them. That's your real weakness, Merc Assault. You work alone because you've forgotten how powerful true connections can be."

Author Note

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