Supreme BeastTamer: I Can Copy and Upgrade Skills 10x! - Chapter 825: It was all a Dream

Chapter 825: It was all a Dream

“Lady Celine?” Nox said quietly.

He stood still on the stone path, his dark wings already gone as if they had never existed. The air no longer felt cold. It was warm and calm, with the faint smell of herbs drifting from the small house behind her. Sunlight touched the garden wall, and the sound of leaves moving in the breeze made the place feel too peaceful after what had just happened.

The old woman blinked at him, then smiled the same way she always used to. Her white hair was tied back neatly, and her simple healer’s robe moved lightly around her thin frame. She looked exactly as she had back in the barony.

“My little Nox,” she said in that same affectionate voice. “Why are you standing there like that? Come here and let me look at you.”

Nox’s expression changed. The cold look in his eyes eased as he stared at her. His feet moved before he even thought about it, and he stopped only a few steps away. The faint lines near her eyes, the smell of dried herbs on her sleeves, the warmth in her gaze. Everything felt real.

“Is it truly you?” he asked, his voice lower than before. “Lady Celine… is it really you?”

Celine’s smile turned puzzled. She lifted a hand and placed it lightly against his cheek like she used to when he came back bruised from reckless training. Her palm felt warm and real.

“Of course it’s me,” she replied gently. “Why are you asking me that kind of question? Did you hit your head again?”

Nox frowned. His hand slowly rose and caught her wrist, not roughly, but firmly, as if he needed to make sure she would not disappear. The warmth of her skin stayed there. The quiet garden did not break.

“You died in the war,” Nox said. “I saw the aftermath myself.”

Celine stared at him in confusion. “War?” she repeated. “What war are you talking about, child? There has never been a war here.”

Nox looked past her shoulder at the house. The small windows were open. He could see the wooden table inside, the shelf lined with bottles, and the hanging herbs drying near the back wall. The place looked exactly like Celine’s house in the Cromwell Barony. Even the broken corner of the fence to the left was still there. The no wyvern allowed sign she had placed because of his grandpa Nathan was still there.

For a few seconds, he said nothing. He only listened. No screams. No burning streets. No sound of battle. Just birds, leaves, and the quiet creak of wood.

His grip on her wrist loosened.

Celine tilted her head. “You really are acting strange today,” she said, then gently pulled her hand free. “Come inside. You look tired.”

Nox followed her without speaking.

The moment he stepped into the house, an old sense of peace settled around him. The room was bright from the sunlight pouring through the window. The air inside was warmer than outside, and the smell of herbs, soup stock, and clean linen filled the room. A kettle sat over a low flame. Dried roots hung from the ceiling. The floorboards creaked softly under his boots.

He looked around slowly. Everything was in place.

For a moment, the thought came to him that maybe he had truly dreamed it all. The demons. The ruined cities. The blood. The endless fighting. The rise in power. The people he had lost.

That thought should have sounded foolish, but in that room, with Lady Celine moving around like nothing had ever happened, it became harder to reject. He remembered the barony. The small town. The quiet days before everything went downhill. He remembered coming here after training, hearing her scold him for skipping meals, and watching her prepare medicine while speaking in that calm voice.

The tension in his shoulders eased little by little.

He sat where she pointed, and she placed a cup of warm water in front of him first. “Drink,” she said. “Then tell me why you are talking like an old soldier.”

Nox took the cup and obeyed. The water was warm, and the heat settled in his chest. He looked at her while she worked by the table, cutting herbs with practiced hands.

“There is a fight summit soon,” Celine said after a while. “Did you forget? The Armstrong Duchy is hosting it this year. Half the young talents in the region will gather there. The whole town has been talking about it.”

Nox’s fingers tightened around the cup.

He remembered it. Or rather, he remembered something like it from that other world he was beginning to think was only a dream. He remembered the humiliation he had suffered at Hendrix’s hands.

But he also remembered the rest. Later, in that same dream, he had eventually crushed Hendrix and reduced him to nothing.

Nox slowly clenched one fist on his lap.

Celine glanced at him, a gleam of concern in her eyes. “Still thinking too much?”

He exhaled through his nose and loosened his hand. “Perhaps.”

That had to be it. He had been too invested in revenge. Too consumed by thoughts of power and payback. His mind must have created those scenes and made them feel real. There was no other explanation that fit what was in front of him now.

Celine was alive.

That alone made the rest feel worth doubting.

He stayed there with her while she moved around the room. She asked small things, the kind she used to ask before. Whether he had been eating properly. Whether he was still pushing himself too hard. Whether he planned to embarrass the barony at the summit by acting arrogant in front of nobles. Nox answered little, but more than he usually would. Once, when she clicked her tongue and adjusted the collar of his shirt because it was sitting crooked, he did not stop her.

The room remained quiet and warm. The low flame crackled. Outside, faint footsteps passed along the road, followed by distant voices from townspeople going about their day. It all felt simple. Safe.

Celine finally carried a bowl over and set it down in front of him.

“Eat this while it’s hot,” she said. “I made it with bone herbs and marrow root. It strengthens the body and hardens the bones. As the town healer, I know what is good for you.”

Nox looked down at the soup. Steam rose from the surface. It smelled rich and clean, with herbs he recognized from childhood. He had trusted Lady Celine more than almost anyone in that town. If she said it would strengthen his body, then he believed her.

Celine sat across from him, folding her hands on her lap. She watched him with that same patient smile.

“Go on,” she urged. “You used to ask for second servings.”

Nox picked up the spoon and lowered it toward the bowl, and the clear broth trembled slightly. Sunlight from the window fell across the table, catching the surface just enough for a reflection to form.

Nox’s hand stopped.

At first, it looked normal.

Then his eyes narrowed.

In the reflection of the soup, Lady Celine was no longer seated across from him.

She was standing behind him.

One hand held a knife raised high. Her posture was wrong. The face in the reflection was not hers. The soft features were gone. What stared back at him was colder, younger, twisted by a calm killing intent.

It was the Demon Prince. The First Born.