A week passed.

For once—

Nothing exploded.

Nobody tried assassinating him.

No mysterious prophecies appeared.

No legendary inheritances descended from the sky.

No fate backlash.

No hidden enemies.

No terrifying revelations.

It was peaceful.

Suspiciously peaceful.

And because of that—

Clay spent the entire week trying to convince himself that those dreams meant absolutely nothing.

Just dreams.

Nothing more.

That was what he repeatedly told himself.

After all, dreams were dreams.

Sometimes people dreamed about ridiculous things.

Sometimes they dreamed about flying.

Sometimes they dreamed about becoming kings.

Sometimes they dreamed about getting chased by giant chickens.

Dreams did not have to make sense.

Unfortunately—

The more he tried convincing himself—

The less convincing it became.

Especially because the details remained perfectly clear.

Not blurry.

Not distorted.

Perfect.

Every face.

Every voice.

Every tragedy.

Every vow.

Clay remembered them all.

Which honestly made him even more uncomfortable.

Then—

On the seventh day—

A messenger arrived.

The messenger looked exhausted.

Dust covered his clothing.

His horse appeared half dead.

The man immediately knelt before Clay.

"Young Master."

Clay looked away from his tea.

"What is it?"

The messenger quickly presented several scrolls.

"Reports from various regions."

Clay lazily accepted them.

At first—

He had no particular interest.

After all, most reports involved the usual matters.

Bandits.

Trade routes.

Taxes.

Minor beast attacks.

Boring things.

Then—

His eyes landed on a name.

And immediately froze.

The room became silent.

Clay stared.

Then stared some more.

Then slowly lowered the scroll.

"...What?"

He looked again.

The name remained there.

Exactly the same.

His heartbeat began accelerating.

"No."

He immediately grabbed the scroll tighter.

Then read again.

The same name.

The exact same name.

The seventh chosen one.

The scarred woman from his dream.

Clay immediately sat upright.

His relaxed posture completely disappeared.

The room suddenly felt colder.

Meanwhile—

Maid Cy quietly noticed the change.

"Youth master?"

Clay ignored her.

Instead—

He immediately opened the scroll completely.

Inside was information regarding a survivor from a destroyed settlement.

The report described a woman who had somehow survived an evolved beast invasion.

Her family had died.

Her friends had died.

Her village no longer existed.

And now—

She was traveling alone.

Exactly.

Exactly.

Exactly like the dream.

Clay’s face slowly became pale.

"No."

"No no no."

"Coincidence."

"It has to be coincidence."

Then he immediately grabbed another report.

His eyes moved rapidly.

The next scroll opened.

And again—

His breathing stopped.

The eighth chosen one.

The swordsman.

The ruined fortress.

The destroyed kingdom.

Everything matched.

Every single detail.

The report even mentioned his homeland being devastated by waves of evolved beasts.

Clay’s fingers twitched.

The third scroll.

The blind boy.

The fourth scroll.

The orphan.

The fifth.

The sixth.

One after another.

One after another.

One after another.

Each report matched the dream.

Not perfectly.

Perfectly was not enough.

It matched beyond perfectly.

The details were identical.

The histories were identical.

The tragedies were identical.

Clay could even remember where they stood inside the dream.

The way they spoke.

The expressions they made.

And now—

Their names sat directly before him on the table.

Real.

Existing.

Alive.

Clay slowly lowered the final scroll.

The room became completely silent.

Even Maid Cy looked slightly confused now.

The usually calm young master looked genuinely shaken.

Not annoyed.

Not irritated.

Shaken.

Then slowly—

Clay stood up.

He walked toward the window.

Then returned.

Then sat down.

Then stood up again.

Then walked in circles.

Then sat down once more.

Then opened all the reports again.

Just to make sure.

The names remained unchanged.

The information remained unchanged.

The reports remained unchanged.

Unfortunately—

Reality also remained unchanged.

Which meant—

The dream had not been random.

The realization made his scalp tingle.

System.

The system answered immediately.

Listening.

Clay stared at the reports.

Then pointed toward them.

You see this?

Affirmative.

You SEE this?!

Affirmative.

Clay immediately pointed again.

THEY EXIST.

Affirmative.

His face twitched.

WHY DO THEY EXIST?

Insufficient data.

"Of course."

"Of course it’s insufficient data."

He rubbed his forehead.

Then picked up another report.

This one belonged to a young survivor whose entire clan had been annihilated by evolved beasts.

Another future chosen one.

Another person from the dream.

Another person with every reason to hate whoever caused the beast disasters.

Clay suddenly felt uncomfortable.

Very uncomfortable.

Then he grabbed yet another report.

And another.

And another. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

The more he read—

The worse things became.

Not because these people were strong.

Most were weak.

Some were barely surviving.

A few were even injured.

No.

That wasn’t the problem.

The problem was their stories.

Every single one possessed the perfect background.

The perfect tragedy.

The perfect motivation.

The perfect setup.

It looked less like coincidence—

And more like fate was personally writing their lives.

Then suddenly—

Clay froze.

A horrifying realization appeared.

Slowly.

Painfully.

Unavoidably.

He looked down toward the stack of reports.

Then quietly spoke.

"...System."

Listening.

Clay’s expression became ugly.

Very ugly.

"If these people continue growing..."

The system remained silent.

Clay continued.

"If they gain opportunities..."

"If they gain inheritances..."

"If they gain blessings..."

"If they gain legendary teachers..."

The more he spoke—

The more terrible the situation sounded.

Finally—

He slowly lowered the final scroll.

His eyes narrowed.

And then—

He said the words that had been haunting him ever since the dream.

"We might be in grave danger."

The room became silent.

Then Clay slowly looked toward empty air.

"What do you think of this, System?"

Clay continued staring at the pile of scrolls spread across the table.

The room had long since fallen silent.

Even Maid Cy had stopped speaking after noticing how serious his expression had become.

One by one, Clay looked over the names again.

The scarred woman.

The ruined swordsman.

The blind survivor.

The orphan.

The clan heir.

The beast hunter.

And the others.

Every single one matched the dream.

Every single one.

That alone was already enough to make him uneasy.

But what truly bothered him was not who they were now.

It was who they might become later.

Clay had seen enough stories.

Enough novels.

Enough fate nonsense.

Enough main characters.

A tragic background alone was not dangerous.

A tragic background combined with destiny?

That was terrifying.

Slowly, he leaned back in his chair.

Then spoke.

"System."

The system answered immediately.

Listening.

Clay tapped the table.

"If these people really are what I think they are..."

His voice trailed off.

The system remained silent.

Then Clay continued.

"If they become chosen ones or future protagonists or whatever title fate decides to give them..."

He frowned.

"...then what?"

The system answered.

Probability of future conflict increases significantly.

Clay’s eyelid twitched.

"Significantly?"

Affirmative.

"How significantly?"

The system paused briefly.

Then replied.

Potentially catastrophic.

Clay immediately covered his face.

"Wonderful."

"Just wonderful."

"One main character was already enough."

"Now fate wants ten?"

The system did not respond.

Clay sighed heavily.

Then another thought occurred to him.

A very important thought.

Slowly, he lowered his hands.

"Wait."

The system answered.

Listening.

Clay narrowed his eyes.

"When Maxwell targeted me..."

"Fate stopped protecting him."

The system replied.

Correct.

Clay immediately leaned forward.

"And because he chose to target me first..."

"I could retaliate."

Correct.

Clay’s eyes narrowed further.

"Then what about these people?"

The system became silent for a moment.

Then—

Insufficient data.

Clay immediately groaned.

"There it is again."

"I swear, one day I’m going to strangle whoever designed you."

The system calmly replied.

Host designed this system.

Clay froze.

"...Right."

He hated when the system reminded him of that.

Because every time it did—

He became even more confused.

Still—

The question remained.

Clay rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

Then asked again.

"If I investigate them..."

"No problem?"

The system answered.

Correct.

"If I watch them?"

Correct.

"If I gather information?"

Correct.

Clay nodded slowly.

Then continued.

"If I approach them?"

Permitted.

"If I test them?"

Permitted.

"If I verify whether they’re actually connected to my dream?"

Permitted.

Clay felt slightly relieved.

Then he asked the most important question.

The room suddenly became much quieter.

Even Maid Cy unconsciously paid closer attention.

"What if one of them decides to target me?"

The system answered immediately.

Then standard retaliation conditions apply.

Clay’s eyes lit up slightly.

"Meaning?"

If they willingly initiate hostility against the host, fate protection weakens.

Clay immediately straightened.

"Just like Maxwell?"

Comparable.

That answer caused him to relax considerably.

At least he wasn’t completely helpless.

Then another thought appeared.

"Wait."

"What if I move first?"

The system answered.

Warning.

Clay immediately frowned.

"See?"

"This is what worries me."

The system continued.

Initiating hostility against protected fate carriers without sufficient cause may attract attention.

Clay immediately pointed toward the scrolls.

"But I have sufficient cause."

The system replied.

Not currently.

Clay looked offended.

"Not currently?"

Correct.

"They haven’t done anything yet."

Clay opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

Then opened it again.

Unfortunately—

The system was right.

For now, these people had merely suffered.

They had not targeted him.

They had not attacked him.

They had not even met him.

Which meant—

He couldn’t just run around punching future protagonists because he had a bad dream.

Even Clay understood that.

Though admittedly—

Only barely.

Slowly, he leaned back once more.

His fingers tapped against the armrest.

The room fell silent again.

Several minutes passed.

Then finally—

Clay spoke.

"So basically..."

"I can investigate."

Correct.

"I can observe."

Correct.

"I can gather information."

Correct.

"I can verify whether they’re actually dangerous."

Correct.

"But I shouldn’t attack first."

Correct.

Clay sighed.

That was more or less what he expected.

Then he glanced toward Maid Cy.

The maid remained standing quietly nearby.

Patiently waiting.

Watching.

Listening.

Clay narrowed his eyes slightly.

"Maid."

"Yes, young master."

"If I asked you to secretly investigate people..."

Maid Cy immediately answered.

"I can do so."

No hesitation.

No questions.

No complaints.

Just immediate agreement.

Clay nodded slowly.

Then looked back at the reports.

His expression gradually became thoughtful.

The fear from earlier had not disappeared.

Not even close.

If anything—

It had merely changed.

Now it was no longer blind fear.

Now it had direction.

Names.

Faces.

Locations.

Information.

Things he could verify.

Things he could investigate.

Things he could understand.

And that alone made him feel slightly better.

After all—

Unknown enemies were terrifying.

Known enemies were manageable.

Or at least—

More manageable.

Then suddenly—

He laughed.

A short laugh.

A tired laugh.

"You know, System."

The system responded.

Listening.

Clay shook his head.

"I really miss the days when my biggest problem was avoiding trouble."

The system remained silent.

Then Clay looked down at the stack of reports again.

Ten names.

Ten possible disasters.

Ten possible future enemies.

Or perhaps—

Ten ordinary people.

He honestly didn’t know yet.

And that uncertainty bothered him more than anything else.

Finally—

Clay stood up.

His decision had been made.

He could sit here worrying endlessly.

Or he could find answers.

Slowly, he gathered the scrolls together.

Then looked toward the window.

Toward the distant horizon.

Toward the countless regions scattered across the continent.

His eyes narrowed.

And after several moments—

He spoke.

"I’ll check them."