My Wives Are A Divine Hive Mind-Chapter 43: Slash Away The Nightmare

The sky in her dream was black and without stars.

No moon, no wind, no horizon—just shifting folds of void and random biomes where her breath made no echo.

In that chaotic realm of unconsciousness, Kivas stood there, wrapped in the familiar weight of her gear, her soul-bound equipment gleaming faintly through the dark.

The shotgun connected to her MP reservoir like a heartbeat. The Driftwool scarf coiled around her throat in weightless stillness. The Crumbling Judgment sat docked on her shoulder, resting in a reinforced sling of instinct and expectation. The mask dulled every thought not necessary to the moment.

Kivas gazed at her dirty hand, soiled. She was alone, she was fatigued, she was devastated.

And the Nightmares began to appear.

First came the half-skeletal wolves, the glass-jawed Voidlings that she and the others had dispatched with ease when the journey began. They came in packs, scrabbling over the malformed terrain of the dreamscape.

Kivas raised her shotgun, fired, reloaded, fired again. Each shot tore open the mind-made beasts, their bodies bursting into psychic dust and vapor.

She didn’t slow down. Before her MP got drained fast, she switched her weapon and stomped the ground, launching herself forward.

She didn’t speak. There was no joy, no fear, no grief in her face. Only stillness of anguish,

More Voidlings came, warped and fluid-bodied, screeching as they twisted toward her. She didn’t hesitate to cut them down. The Coralblade carved red arcs into their masses.

Her scarf waved in rhythm with her steps as she cut through the mist-heavy gaps and flanked them from unnatural angles.

She unloaded a barrage of slashes, and again, and again, and the Nightmare shattered.

Then another group. She threw herself forward in abaddon and controlled the Crumbling Judgment, guiding the missile into a cluster of misshapen beasts.

The landscape was ruined in a powerful explosion, and she barely lingered her gaze at the view.

Because inside, her mind boiled.

Each step she took was haunted by the dull throb of guilt.

She had taken the expedition lightly. Her voice had been bright, her mind focused on small curiosities and jokes, on food and fleeting awe.

She had assumed that Samael would always be enough. That if anything truly dangerous happened, Samael would sweep in and fix it, that she was an almighty entity that could solve every problem without caring much.

Kivas had relied on her.

Too much.

Kivas mistook Samael’s confidence as might. Kivas thought of Samael’s quiet resolve, her unreadable silences, her habit of stepping in only when necessary—and never before.

Even then, Samael only cared about Kivas. Even if Samael possessed the power, she would still ignore the rest of the expedition members.

And worse, Kivas realized that Samael wouldn’t have saved Azulus if she hadn’t picked her up first. That her survival had come not from merit or worth, but from Kivas choosing to care.

Samael was a guardian for Kivas, but not those around her.

Kivas didn’t take this into an appropriate account.

The next Nightmare that lunged at her caught a full blast of her rage. She swung her Serrated Coralblade and Voidwood Fang and spun, before she stabbed the Nightmare, again, and again until she saw another one approaching her.

She continued fighting. The negative mist thickened, but her pace never slowed.

Then she thought about the loot.

The way everyone had agreed to pool all the Curio items for later evaluation.

That was a giant mistake.

It seemed smart. Democratic. Fair. But it was flawed. No one had been given the powerful ones early—not the cloak that could boost reaction time in emergencies, not the mask that nullified poison, not even the Fang of Rhetak that might have granted Toriq or Joyhan the edge needed to survive.

They’d trusted in merit-based distribution, but no one, including Kivas herself, thought that they would be useful if they were distributed earlier.

Maybe Samael noticed it, but Samael had no purpose to inform it regardless cause she had no reason to keep everyone fair and alive.

"Aaaa..."

Kivas sliced through the next wave of Nightmares without pause. Her Coralblade caught three in a single horizontal arc. Her shotgun slammed into the skull of another before firing point-blank.

More of them came. She wasn’t slowing.

And then she saw her.

The Nightmare of Beilan.

Standing in the dark like a statue carved from doubt. The young woman’s face looked just as it had when she stood on the platform, tail behind her, arms crossed in blunt defiance.

Except here, in the dream, there was fury in her eyes. Grief. Her voice cracked with venom.

"You let me die."

Kivas froze. Her body went cold. Her fingers trembled around the grip of her weapon.

Beilan stepped forward, unarmed, no armor, no defenses—just pain carved into her voice.

"You and that cursed woman. You left me. You didn’t do anything. You walked. You let me die!"

Kivas didn’t breathe. Her mind felt assaulted, she wanted to grasp onto something but there was nothing to rely on but herself.

"This is your fault..." Beilan’s face morphed into a nightmarish painting of despair. "Don’t you think that you took it a little bit too easy with that prideful demon, having your spineless back?"

Beilan charged.

Kivas raised the shotgun. The barrel leveled automatically.

Kivas hesitated.

But she pulled the trigger.

The shot exploded through the dream. And let the lily scatter the blood.

Beilan’s body fell in silence, evaporating into thin slivers of regret.

Kivas fell to her knees.

"I didn’t do anything wrong..." she whispered. "I was just... I was trying... I don’t know what to do... Why are you haunting me..."

The silence of the dream pressed around her like a dome of anguish, a shower of rotten lemon that covered her body, cold, sticky and pungent.

"I was in the right," she whispered again, this time weaker. "I didn’t do anything wrong..."

The ground beneath her cracked.

Tentacles surged upward from the broken crust of the dream. Monoliths fell from the sky. Dozens. Hundreds. The false sky trembled with the weight of invasion.

"Aaa... Aaaaaa...!"

Kivas screamed and raised her hand, calling the Crumbling Judgment again.

The missile flared to life and launched toward the approaching cluster. She activated the Driftwool effect and vanished from immediate sight, and moved between tentacles with shotgun flares lighting her path, dagger chipped from too many usage.

The Nightmares of the Xenos surged forward. Shaped like the monoliths, but less defined. Weaker. Each one shattered after only one or two hits. Her blades tore through them with impunity.

Because she hadn’t killed them. Because they weren’t hers to bear.

It wasn’t her fault.

She hacked and blasted her way through them, her rage bleeding into every strike. The landscape cracked under her fury. She broke them with blade and buckshot, fire and wrath.

She let the Crumbling Judgment ignite again, letting it scorch a path through the mist.

Still, she fought.

Still, they came.

"I barely knew you!" Kivas shouted into the dream. "I barely care about you! Why do you appear as my Nightmare!? I have no responsibility for you!

"You approached us first, you apologized! Was there any intent behind that gesture!?

"Is this image of yours that appeared as my Nightmare the real you... or is it just a distorted version of my own perception..."

Until the dream began to tire, the mist grew thin, and her body slowed.

And then, there was nothing left but the remnants. The ash and smoke. The wounds in the ground. The silence.

Kivas dropped to her knees.

She looked up at the sky. It didn’t move. It didn’t change.

Her face twisted—not from sorrow, but from something deeper, less defined. Her breathing came slow. Her arms slumped at her sides. She said nothing. She wept for nothing.

Her thoughts remained clear, and yet distant. Her anger was spent. Her guilt had not lifted.

Kivas stared upward at the night of her own mind, and said nothing.

"Right..." Kivas’ hands trembled as she dragged it into her peripheral view. "All of this doesn’t matter if I get stronger..." A manic smile of disbelief expanded on her face. "Blaming others won’t do anything, the rice has turned into mush, and someone has spitted on the bowl...

"I must accept the fact that I can’t do anything but accept this reality, before I can change everything that will come."

➤ 『WELL OF THE SOUL』

Name: Kivas Chariot

Race: Fateling

Total Level: 2

➤ 『Attributes』

💪 Strength (STR): 88

🧠 Intelligence Quotient (IQ): 78

🙏 Piety (PIE): 77

🛡️ Vitality (VIT): 285

💨 Speed (SPD): 118

🎯 Dexterity (DEX): 160

🍀 Luck (LUK): 68

➤ 『Vitals』

❤️ Hemo Psyche (HP): 5/ 42

🔮 Mana Psyche (MP): 2 / 32

➤ 『Derived Stats』

🗡️ Attack Power: 88

✨ Magic Power: 78

🔆 Divine Power: 77

🛡️ Defense: 285

🍃 Magic Defense: 77

👁️ Detect: 75

🧩 Disarm Trap: 132

🚧 Evade Trap: 103

🏃 Action Speed: 118

🎯 Accuracy: 132

🌀 Evasion: 103

⛓️ Resistance: 150

➤ 『Classes』

◈ Priest Lv2 Disc0

➤ 『Skills』

◈ Divine Soulmate Imbuer Lv1 – You possess the power to imbue a Genesis Core onto your fated soulmate.

◈ Fate Weaver Lv1 – You possess the power to weave fate.

◈ Soul Entanglement Lv1 – You possess the power to latch your soul.

➤ 『END OF THE WELL』