The moment Maya's consciousness faded from the throne room, absolute silence returned to rule the place. "Nightmare Number Seven" vanished as if it had never been, dissolving back into the nothingness from which Ethan had summoned it. Ethan was left alone again on his majestic throne, and the quiet around him was deeper and heavier than before.
He didn't feel the immediate triumph he had expected. Instead, there was a strange sense of emptiness. The show was over, the curtains had fallen, and the sole actress had left the stage. And now, the director sat alone in the dark, the echo of his own performance ringing in his head.
"Was the arrogance too much?" he whispered to himself, his voice echoing in the vast hall.
The reply came from the cold, practical part of his mind. "No. It was necessary. Fear is the fastest path to respect, and respect is the foundation of control. She needed to be broken a little in order to be rebuilt correctly."
He looked at the space before him, where "The Paralyzed Artist," Maya's personal nightmare, was now prostrated. It was trembling, but it no longer resisted. It had sensed the defeat of its former master and recognized who the new ruler was. It was a valuable addition to his collection, a nightmare specializing in psychological and artistic paralysis. A high-quality asset.
A chill ran through Ethan as he analyzed the situation this way. "Asset." "Quality." He was starting to think of psychological horrors as if they were stocks in an investment portfolio.
"This is what it takes," he convinced himself. "There is no room for emotion in this war."
With a sense of cold accomplishment, he decided his time in the "Asylum of Echoes" was over for the night. He withdrew his consciousness from his kingdom, feeling that unsettling sensation of compression, as if he were a giant star collapsing in on itself to return to his tiny human size.
He opened his eyes.
He was lying on his sofa in his silent apartment. The light from the computer screen cast flickering shadows on the walls. He heard the hum of the refrigerator, the sound of a car passing on the street below. The ordinary, boring details of the physical world.
He stood up, feeling a strange heaviness in his limbs. The mental exhaustion from controlling the domain and summoning Maya was immense, but there was something else. A feeling of disconnection, as if he were wearing a heavy diving suit.
He went to the bathroom, turned on the light, and opened the cold water tap. He bent over and washed his face, the icy water a welcome shock, an attempt to awaken the real "Ethan." He raised his head and looked at his reflection in the mirror.
He froze.
The man staring back at him wasn't quite him. They were his features, but his gaze... was different. It carried the remnants of the detached arrogance, of the absolute authority he had possessed on the throne. He saw in his own eyes an echo of "The Proprietor."
He took a step back, his heart pounding.
"It was just a role," he told himself quickly, trying to reassure himself. "A mask I wore to get the job done. That's not really me."
But a more honest, more unsettling voice whispered in the depths of his mind. "Were you really acting? Or did you just let a part of yourself come out? The part that enjoys control, the part that sees others as tools?"
He stared at his reflection. He had felt satisfaction when Maya knelt before him. He had felt power. And that feeling... was good. Dangerously good.
He shut his eyes tightly. "No. I'm doing this to protect myself. To protect others like Chloe. The end justifies the means."
But even as he said it, he knew he was partly lying to himself. Something in him had changed tonight. The mask of "The Proprietor" wasn't just a tool. It was too comfortable. As if he had finally found the role he was born to play.
He returned to the living room and sat in front of his computer. The first phase of the plan had succeeded. He had acquired his first "Conductor" and bound her to him with "The Shadow Covenant." Now, for phase two. What would he do with her?
"I can't send her out to fight. She's a novice, and her loyalty is still fragile," he thought, tapping his fingers on the table. "But she's connected to the network now. She's an antenna. She can hear what I can't."
The new plan formed in his mind. She wouldn't be a soldier yet. She would be a listening post.
He would continue to train her in the dream world, teaching her the basics of psychic defense, how to build her shield, and how to recognize the "touch" of artificial nightmares. But her real mission in the waking world would be much simpler. She would live her life normally, but she would serve as his early warning system. Thanks to the "Shadow Covenant," Ethan would feel any strong psychic interference near her. If Somnus tried to target her again, he would know instantly.
He had acquired the first node in his intelligence network.
He felt a satisfaction at the clarity of the plan. He had turned a problem (how to protect the targets) into an opportunity (using them as spies).
He lay down on the sofa again and closed his eyes. He didn't need to summon Maya again. The covenant was made. He could now communicate with her more directly.
He focused on that thin, silver thread that connected his consciousness to hers. He didn't send words, but a thought, a feeling, a calm and clear command that would slip into her now-peaceful dreams, as if it were a figment of her own imagination.
"Conductor Number One. Training begins tomorrow. Be ready."
He felt the message arrive, and the other end of the thread vibrate with a confused acknowledgment.
He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. There was no longer any trace of internal conflict. It had been replaced by the cold efficiency of a manager who had successfully completed a task.
"First asset activated," he thought as he opened his computer again to look at the list of remaining names. "Time to review the next candidates."