Chapter 584: Schiller's Mishap (Part 1) (Patreon)

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Constantine no longer carried his usual carefree demeanor. The haze of cigarette smoke lingered between his brows. When he furrowed them, he appeared somewhat distant, revealing that inherent British aloofness that lent him an air of refined elegance.

Constantine squatted down, his head cocked as he gazed at Morpheus. No one knew just how captivating Dream God appeared through his eyes.

Without a doubt, when he looked at Morpheus' face, that enraptured expression was no deception. Perhaps he wasn't seeing a person but the dream he had longed for, a dream that had eluded him until now.

"Morpheus, the last time I sought you out, I didn't get the answers I desired. Furthermore, you've forbidden my entry into Dreamland. So, I had no choice but to resort to this method to bid you goodnight personally."

Constantine peered into Morpheus' eyes and said, "Since a young age, I've known who to approach when I seek answers, and I also knew that if he wouldn't tell me willingly, I could ask in a different way..."

Once stripped of his formerly carefree and dissolute demeanor, Constantine's eyes exhibited sharpness, obsession, and cold detachment, much like the lunatics of Gotham.

Schiller, donned in a suit, stood by Morpheus' side, his posture erect, hands tucked into his trouser pockets. He turned his head to look at the distant horizon of Dreamland. At this moment, he and Constantine's shadows seemed inexplicably alike. Their attitudes in this matter were strikingly similar: no deity, despite their divine status, had the right to refuse answering their questions.

Whether one invited them politely or held a gun to their heads, demons or gods, it made no difference to them.

Morpheus lay on the ground, gazing at the sky. He wasn't actually physically injured, but the emotional damage far outweighed any physical harm. As he looked around at the empty, desolate expanse of Dreamland and contemplated the repairs that lay ahead, Morpheus realized that his long career had come to an end.

"You won't have pleasant dreams," Morpheus said with a somewhat vacant gaze directed at the sky of Dreamland. There were iridescent clouds and mist, and he continued, "You, and you, and the person standing at the prow of the ship, none of you will have pleasant dreams."

He gestured to Constantine, who was crouched before him, Schiller standing beside him, and Batman, who stood on the ship in the distance.

"This isn't a curse; it's simply a fact. Only those who remain ignorant of the existence of the Country of Dreams can truly have pleasant dreams."

"When you know that your dreams are crafted by me and that there is a special place where all your dreams are stored, you will never experience a pleasant dream again."

"This is the rule of Dreamland. Only those willing to give up the truth, refrain from pondering the source and destination of their dreams, and enter slumber with expectations can truly have pleasant dreams."

"And you, you damned truth-seekers, intruded here, learned the truth of dreams, and now, dreams will no longer seek you out."

Morpheus shifted his gaze briefly to Constantine and said, "When you came here seeking a pleasant dream, rather than lying in bed, relaxing your body, and closing your eyes full of hope, you had already lost the privilege of dreaming. Anyone in this world who knows of the existence of the dream god will never dream again..."

Morpheus looked at Constantine and said, "You brought this upon yourself. You and this man, you both barged into Dreamland and set off a massive explosion that left my home unrecognizable. And you dare to ask me if I sympathize with you?"

Constantine rose to his feet and looked toward the sky of Dreamland. From this angle, no one could see whether he felt sorrow for this truth.

Chasing a beautiful dream might appear childish, not something that adults or Hellblazer Constantine would do, but he was stubborn in his pursuit of the truth.

Constantine remained silent for a moment and then turned his head to Batman, speaking in a voice just loud enough for Batman to hear, "This is magic. When you're on the road seeking truth, you've already lost everything."

He took a few more drags from his cigarette, exhaled the smoke, and the roguish smile returned to his face. He spoke lightly to Schiller, "Well, it looks like this is the end of this matter. I helped you deal with those green-lighted folks earlier, and you've repaid that favor."

He flicked the nearly extinguished cigarette butt to the ground and crushed it underfoot. Then, he bent down, extended his hand, and helped Morpheus to his feet. He said to him, "Sorry, I just wanted an answer."

Schiller, once again, retrieved a cigarette from his own suit pocket, lit it, and then pulled out another one, offering it to Morpheus. Morpheus scowled but didn't take it, though Schiller didn't seem to mind.

"You came here to seek an answer," Schiller said, his intense gaze giving Morpheus an unsettling feeling. Soon, Morpheus realized it wasn't a mere illusion.

"Well, Morpheus, I understand your divine power is mighty, and your dominion vast. However, a handful of human believers hardly seems fitting for your exalted status."

"As far as I know, your siblings have far more followers than you do. I heard from Constantine that human souls and faith hold special significance for all gods..."

"I have delved into the consciousness space of humanity and dreams for many years, and I am well aware of the vastness of the Dream Realm. It's an uncharted territory that has piqued the curiosity of humans throughout the ages. I believe that your remarkable achievements should be better known..."

As Morpheus listened, he became increasingly uneasy. He took two cautious steps back and looked at Schiller, asking, "What are you trying to do?"

"In any profession, there are specialists. If you want to develop faith, you must have a sufficient number of believers. To increase your followers, you need someone to spread the word. Perhaps... do you need a professional pope?"

"I do not need..."

"Let me finish. I understand you might be thinking that as soon as we leave, you'll find some unlucky soul and pass on this rotten business to them, finally gaining your freedom."

"But last time, when I inquired about matters related to fate, I didn't get an answer. So, after leaving here, I'll have to figure out a way to find a doorbell to ring fate's door."

"Oh, by the way, something happened earlier that made me contemplate Death deeply. Death is also a captivating enigma for me, and I'm eager to have a conversation with Death..."

Morpheus's expression grew increasingly grim. He looked at Schiller and asked, "Are you threatening me?"

"Of course not. I'm just describing a possible scenario."

"Do you realize what you're doing? To us, you and all humans are as insignificant as dust. Your life and death are a mere thought away for the Endless Family."

"Is that so? Then why don't you persuade fate to write my name in his book?"

Morpheus was momentarily taken aback. Schiller wiped the smile off his face and looked at Morpheus, saying seriously, "I recall that the last time we met, you told me that all members of the Endless Family had to pay a price for their great divine power."

"Death's price is witnessing every death firsthand. As for you, perhaps the price you must pay is never knowing whether you truly exist or are merely a dream."

"You'd have to relinquish your divine authority as the dream god and hand over Dreamland to someone else. If, one day, you discover that you don't really exist or don't need to exist, then, like waking from a dream, you'll disappear completely."

Schiller's words were not baseless, for in the comics, Morpheus did die, by his own hand. In "The Sandman" comic series, when Morpheus decided to relinquish his role as the master of Dreamland, he allowed the Three Witches to kill him. Another member of the Endless Family, Death, then took him away. And when Dream, representing the realm of dreams, chose Death, it meant that the dream had awakened.

Just like all dreams, when the dream shatters, and people awaken from it to return to reality, that dream disappears forever. There will never be the same dream again in the world.

Perhaps that was the price Morpheus had to pay for his immense power. Every dream, no matter how beautiful, would eventually come to an end.

However, Schiller had a way to make a dream never awaken, as in his consciousness space, the dreamer and the one controlling the real world were not the same persona. This meant he had countless endless dreams...

"I remember that when we first met, you mentioned that you had never seen that high tower in anyone's Dream Realm."

"Now, since you've decided to give up your current role, why not plan a retirement trip for yourself? Book a room with beautiful scenery and comfortable conditions?"

Morpheus pursed his lips. He hadn't expected Schiller to bring up this topic, but he wasn't naive. He said, "So, who's responsible for me giving up my current role?"

Constantine lowered his head to examine the flowers and plants at his feet, while Schiller gazed up at the sky.

Morpheus sighed. He had to admit that his desire to hand over Dreamland to a new master wasn't solely because of Schiller's intrusion. He was a member of the Endless Family who possessed a relatively strong sense of humanity, which meant he was susceptible to various influences beyond the realm's rules. Since the dreams he oversaw were as diverse as humanity itself, Morpheus couldn't help but be affected to some extent.

"Perhaps I should tell you a fact that might put your minds at ease," Morpheus said with some resignation. "Not only you, but I too am without pleasant dreams."

"From the day I was born, I've faced endless work, a life without end. It's far from being a pleasant dream. If things continue like this, I won't be able to bring pleasant dreams to others."

Morpheus, as the master of Dream Realm, possessed almost limitless power. He was synonymous with dreams, and if there was something wrong with him, the dreams of all creatures in his realm would be affected.

After he grew tired of the unending work, the source of pleasant dreams began to dry up. If things continued this way, all that would remain for all creatures would be nightmares.

So, when he realized he was no longer passionate about his work, he knew it was time to retire.

When Morpheus's attitude began to waver, Schiller keenly sensed it and said, "In fact, I didn't just come here on a whim to apply for a job."

"I'm a rather experienced pope. If you don't believe me, I invite you to enter my dream. The gods I once believed in will confirm what I'm saying..."

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Next Chapter>>Chapter 585: Schiller's Unexpected Turn of Events (Part 1)