I Was Reborn in Another World, But I Awoke Inside a Corpse

Chapter 156: The God Who Sleeps Too Hard

They crossed the bridge of coiled dreamroots in silence.

The air grew thicker, but not in the suffocating way of a deadly curse or divine pressure. No—it was the weight of something that simply hadn't moved in so long that the very concept of motion was offensive.

At the far end of the chamber, they saw him.

Belphegor.

He wasn't monstrous. Not twisted. Not wrathful.

He was… asleep.

A colossal figure lay curled in a nest of mist and tangled vines, his long hair spread out like streams of moonlight, his body slack, breathing slow and deep.

His eyes were closed.

His aura didn't pulse like a threat—it sank like a sigh. The dream surrounding him flexed and pulsed like a heartbeat on pause.

Isaac blinked up at him.

"Well. He's big."

Lira nudged him. "You think?"

Sylvalen's voice was a whisper. "That's a god."

"No," Isaac said. "That's a sleeper who forgot he was a god."

They approached slowly, boots crunching over faint patches of crystallized slumber—yes, sleep had condensed into actual material.

A quiet voice echoed in their minds.

"Who… dares…"

Lira froze. "He's waking up?"

"No," Isaac said. "I think this is his subconscious. He's still mostly dreaming."

The voice continued—drawn out, lazy, like someone struggling to care through six feet of metaphorical blankets.

"I… was dreaming about pudding… go away…"

Sylvalen blinked. "Did he just say—"

"Pudding," Isaac confirmed.

Belphegor's giant eyelid fluttered but didn't open. He muttered again:

"I made the stars nap. The sky forgot to spin. Terra will rest and like it…"

Isaac sighed and stepped forward.

"Belphegor."

No response.

He pulled out a glowing white scroll. Unrolled it. Read with mock-drama:

"Notice from the World Tree Council: Your dream has exceeded healthy dormancy parameters. Please wake up, or we will begin charging dream-tax."

A rumbling groan echoed through the chamber.

"Taxes… are evil…"

"Agreed," Isaac said. "But this is about you accidentally suffocating the world."

Belphegor rolled slightly.

A spiritual tremor shook the chamber. Lira nearly lost her balance.

"Can't talk. Too sleepy. The world is warm. Let it rot peacefully."

"So you do know what's happening?" Isaac raised a brow.

"Mmmmnot really. Just fragments. Something slithered in. Made things comfy. Too comfy…"

"That was Andrealphus," Isaac said.

Belphegor snorted in his sleep. "Drama queen."

"We removed him," Isaac added. "Your dream is no longer compromised. But it's still spreading."

A pause.

A deep, long breath.

Then…

"Then I guess… it's time…"

"Time to wake up?" Isaac asked.

"Time to… roll over."

Belphegor shifted slightly.

The earth tilted. Reality blinked.

Sylvalen held onto Lira for balance. "Is that all he's going to do?!"

"At this rate," Isaac muttered, "the world will be buried under nap-time."

Isaac stepped closer.

Close enough to place a hand on Belphegor's cheek—warm, surprisingly smooth.

"Listen. I get it. The world's loud. And messy. And exhausting. But if you don't get up, people die in their sleep. Not because of fear—but because they forget to wake up."

"So?"

"So I didn't come this far to watch a god snore himself into planetary euthanasia."

"...What if I gave you pudding to go away?"

"You'll be giving everyone nightmares if you keep this up."

A long silence.

And then—

Belphegor's eye opened.

Just one.

A slit of silver-gray, glowing faintly.

"You… are loud."

"And you are lazy."

"We all have roles."

They stared at each other.

Then Belphegor blinked slowly.

"Fine… just for a moment… I will wake."

With a single sigh, his body shifted—and the entire dreamscape breathed.

The sky above them brightened slightly. The mist thinned. The grip of endless sleep loosened its hold on the land.

The World Tree felt it.

Terra felt it.

Isaac felt it.

Belphegor didn't rise. Didn't float or roar or unleash divine declarations.

He simply sat up.

Shoulders slumped.

Hair a mess.

One eye barely open.

"I need coffee."