He looked around and found himself standing in a dark place without him noticing.
Someone was whispering in his ear.
What are they talking about? Angor frowned. He could not hear them clearly, but he could feel people whispering in his ear. There might even be animals growling.
For some reason, this place felt so familiar to him. It was as if he had just experienced this not long ago.
But when did he experience it? Angor could not remember.
Or rather, his mind was in a mess. He did not have much time to think or recall.
He stood up and listened to the whispers. He did not know what he should do. But when he turned around and saw a light spot in the distance, he was surprised. Out of instinct, he searched for the only source of light in the darkness.
The light spot was far away from him, but it did not move. It was like a lighthouse in the dark, showing him the way forward.
The whispers were still going on, and Angor felt a little annoyed. The closer he got to the light spot, the louder the whispers became. Different languages, different races, different frequencies, all of them were whispering the same short sound.
After walking for a long time, Angor finally arrived at the light spot.
It was a door.
But in Angor's muddled mind, he thought the "door" was probably a mirror. This strange thought came to him because he saw a figure facing him from behind the door.
Angor and the person inside the door stood facing each other. He felt like he was looking into a mirror.
He could not see the person's face clearly. The person's clothes were fancy and strange, and the person's hair was long, which did not look like him at all. But he still felt that the person inside the door … was himself.
This idea, which defied logic, seemed to be the truth in his mind, which was now like a ball of yarn.
"You're me?" Angor muttered.
The person did not answer.
Angor slowly reached out his right hand, trying to touch the person's face.
His right hand went through the "door".
The person behind the "door" reached out his hand as well. Their hands met at this moment.
"So cold." Angor touched the person's hand. The only thing he felt was coldness.
It was like falling into an ice cellar.
The cold sensation was familiar to him. It seemed that not long ago, he had touched it somewhere.
"What are you touching?" A deep voice reached his ears.
He thought the voice came from someone inside the door. Just as he was about to answer, he realized that in an instant, the whispers in his ears had all disappeared. The darkness was slowly fading away, and the light began to expand. Even the "door" in front of him shattered into several pieces.
Next, Angor opened his eyes.
He saw someone familiar. It was Sunders, who was wearing a black gentleman suit.
He was looking at himself in the mirror. How did he become Sunders all of a sudden?
At this moment, he saw a hint of mockery in Sanders' eyes.
Banter? Why was he mocking him? Angor followed Sunders' gaze and looked down. He saw his right wrist being grabbed by Sunders. His hand was grasping the air unconsciously.
Angor quickly regained his senses. Looking around, he found himself in an unfamiliar room, and beneath him was a wooden bed.
So, was he dreaming just now?
Did Sunders grab his wrist because he was touching something in his dream? Angor remembered that he did feel something cold in his dream. Could it be Sunders' body?
Angor felt a chill down his spine when he thought of this possibility. This was Sunders, the "God of Slaughter" of the southern wizarding region. Would Sunders chop off his hand for acting so presumptuously? I'm his student after all. He won't … right?
Angor retracted his hand awkwardly and lowered his head. He quickly apologized, "I'm sorry, professor. I was dreaming. I didn't mean to touch you — "
Sunders was taken aback. "What the hell are you thinking about? I'm asking you, what were you touching? "
"I wasn't touching you, was I?" Angor saw Sunders' look of disdain and realized he was wrong. He quickly changed his excuse, "I was touching the air … right?"
Sunders shook his head and his relaxed expression turned serious. "No. Think again."
"I wasn't touching anything … Wait, I think I grabbed someone's hand in my dream." Angor tried to recall his dream.
His mind was muddled in the dream. But he still managed to remember most of it.
"Whose hand?" Sunders stared at Angor's right hand with a serious expression.
Angor followed Sunders' gaze and looked at his right hand.
His eyes widened.
Was this his hand? Starting from Sunders' wrist, his entire hand had changed into a completely different shape.
Compared to his left hand, the finger bones of his right hand seemed to be longer. He took out his left hand and pressed it tightly against his right hand.
Every finger on his right hand was one knuckle longer than his left hand.
And the strangest thing was that when he moved his right hand, strange patterns flashed with green light and circled around his right hand.
Angor frowned. Is this my hand?
Angor tried to pinch his right hand, but he could control it freely. Next, he tried to control the green runes floating around his right hand, but he could not control them at all.
He could control his hand as he always did. But he was too unfamiliar with this hand.
It had been with him for nearly 16 years. Angor would not mistake it. It was clearly not his hand. But why could he control it freely?
"Put your research aside for now. You have plenty of time to study it later. Tell me, whose hand did you grab? "Sunders interrupted Angor's thoughts and asked again.
Angor shook his head. "I don't know. I couldn't see clearly. He was in the mirror, no, behind the door. I don't know who he was. I didn't even see if he was a man or a woman. "
"Did he have long blond hair?" Sunders asked.
Angor shook his head and nodded again. "Yes, but I couldn't see the color. He was wearing fancy clothes, but I couldn't see the color. "Angor paused and looked at Sunders in confusion." How do you know, professor? Did you see him too? "
Sunders did not answer right away. Instead, he asked about Angor's dream.
When Angor finished, Sunders asked about his experience in Witch's Town.
Again, Angor did not hide anything from Sunders. He told Sunders about the strange wooden house and the old witch. Sunders remained silent for a moment. "You said that the person you saw in your dream, you thought it was you?"
Angor nodded.
Sunders rubbed his temples. "When I found the wooden house you mentioned, I saw two people. One was you, and the other was covered in mist. But I saw that he had long hair that was similar to yours.
"When I approached him, he turned into mist and disappeared."
"You didn't see his face, professor?" Sunders nodded.
Sunders nodded. "I didn't see what he looked like, but I saw his hand holding your right hand. To be more precise, he was trying to fuse with your right hand. "
"His hand? My hand?" Angor looked at his strange right hand and felt that everything was ridiculous.
His hand did not belong to him. It belonged to another long-haired man?
It should be the person behind the door that he dreamed of.
But why would he do that? Where did his own hand go?
Angor clenched his right hand and sensed a powerful force. But no matter how powerful it was, it was still unfamiliar to him.
Suddenly, Angor narrowed his eyes.
When he clenched his right hand, he felt blood flowing through his hand. But … he was only a soul now. How could there be blood flowing through his hand?
"You finally noticed?" Sunders raised an eyebrow. "Your right hand has materialized."
"My right hand became real?" Angor quickly raised his left hand in shock.
However, his left hand was still a soul. In other words, his right hand was the only thing that was real.
Angor then thought of something terrifying.
If his right hand in the Nightmare Realm became real, what about his right hand in the real world? Was it his, or the long-haired man's?
Moreover, if he ejected his body in the real world, whose right hand did it belong to?
The more Angor thought about it, the more he felt cold sweat dripping down his back.
Sunders spoke up, "I said that the man's hand fused with your right hand. That's not right."
"What's wrong?"
"It looks like he's fusing with your hand. But it also looks like he's pulling your right hand from the wizarding world to the Nightmare Realm." Sunders paused. "Maybe both. But we can only confirm it when we return to the wizarding world.
Before that, don't use your right hand. " Sunders glanced at the green runes on Angor's right hand and felt a little scared. The runes did not seem to contain any energy, but every time Sunders looked at them, he always felt a sense of dread.
Angor nodded and leaned against the headboard in frustration.
If what Sunders said was true, Angor had lost his hand in the Nightmare Realm.
Sunders thought for a moment and said, "I have a guess. Maybe you didn't lose your hand. This is probably your hand."
Angor looked at him.
"Didn't you say that the person you met in your dream was you, and that you thought it was you? You were in a state of confusion, but that's probably why your guess is correct. "
"He might be you. But you were projected by the Nightmare Realm."
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