The weariness in Hypnos's eyes faded slightly; he naturally understood what Aergia was saying.
Over endless years, he had long known that fear, alertness, and the instinct for survival made living beings resist sleep all the more.
Yet for the ruler of sleep, this had never been an issue. If the resistance was strong, he simply used a little more power—nothing more.
But what Aergia proposed was not how to overpower the resistance; what she wanted to do was weaken the resistance itself.
“You want them to be affected by your Sloth first, and then have me bestow sleep?”
“Yes.”
Aergia nodded.
“That is why I need to personally use my divine portfolio, rather than merely attaching myself to your poppy pollen to observe as before.”
Hypnos looked at her for a moment, then spoke as though unable to help himself: “Are you truly certain you are a deity of Sloth?”
“One's divine portfolio and personality are not necessarily identical.”
“You had best remember those words.”
Hypnos slowly sat up from the stone couch. Aergia reflexively glanced at him—a movement so subtle, yet Hypnos caught it all the same.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“What were you thinking just now?”
Aergia went quiet for a moment before answering truthfully, “It is just my first time learning that you actually get up from that stone couch.”
Silence hung in the air for a moment. Hypnos looked at her expressionlessly.
“Aergia.”
“Hmm?”
“You have been talking more lately.”
With that, he stood up from the stone couch. The God of Sleep's figure appeared even more slender than when he reclined, the pair of pure-white wings on his back slowly spreading wide with the movement.
The instant his divine power rippled outward, the poppy pollen floating throughout the temple seemed to receive a sudden call, coming to a collective halt in midair.
In the next moment, space itself blurred before the two deities. Before Aergia could take it in, the cold obsidian beneath her feet was replaced by damp soil.
The night wind blew against her face; for the first time, she truly stood upon the earth.
Unlike when her consciousness was attached to pollen, the scent of dirt, the breath of trees, the sound of a distant river pounding against rock walls, and the slow, immense pulse of life deep within the earth all flooded into her perception at once.
Aergia glanced down at her feet; a tiny, tightly closed flower bud had softly unfolded at some point.
There was no divine light nor any violent phenomenon; only the quietly flowing breath of life beneath the ground had drawn ever so faintly toward her the instant her feet touched down.
As if confirming something, it then returned to silence.
Aergia did not notice, but Hypnos, standing beside her, lowered his gaze to glance at the flower, saying nothing.
They soon found a creature currently in an awake state. It was not tired, nor was it in danger; it simply paced slowly beside a low patch of shrubs, occasionally lowering its head to chew on leaves.
Hypnos raised a hand. Without incantation or superfluous movement, the divine power of sleep descended gently.
The creature's body stiffened, and it instinctively raised its head, its ears twitching alertly in all directions.
An invisible force was pressing upon its consciousness. Clearly sensing danger, its limbs began to shift anxiously.
Hypnos increased his divine power just a fraction. The clarity in its eyes vanished instantly; losing all support, its body collapsed straight to the ground.
“Did you see clearly?”
“Yes.”
Aergia stepped closer. A moment later, the two found another creature in a similar state.
This time, Hypnos did not act.
Standing a short distance from the creature, Aergia unsuppressed the godhead of Sloth within her for the very first time.
Divine power flowed slowly from the depths of her body—devoid of intimidating pressure or suffocating presence.
Unlike Hypnos's sleep, which could directly overlay consciousness, Sloth was more like a silent mist.
At first, the creature showed no reaction. It continued walking forward, only for its pace to gradually slow down.
Its eyes, which had been constantly shifting to scan its surroundings, stopped moving so frequently, and its erect ears gradually relaxed.
A faint sound rustled from the distant grass. It raised its head to look, yet did not immediately assume a guard posture as it normally would.
After a few more steps, it stopped. It seemed to suddenly feel there was no point in moving forward. In the end, it simply found a soft patch of grass and sluggishly lay down.
Its eyes were still open and its consciousness remained awake; it simply—did not want to move anymore.
“Lord Hypnos, you may begin.”
The divine power of sleep descended once more. This time, the creature's reaction was visibly different.
There were no suddenly tense muscles, no anxious struggles. The moment Hypnos's power touched its consciousness, the creature merely twitched an ear; then, the spark in its eyes rapidly dimmed, and it peacefully entered slumber.
The lingering layer of weariness in Hypnos's eyes flickered slightly. He did not immediately withdraw his power; instead, he closed his eyes and re-felt the entire process just now. A moment later, he opened his eyes.
“Less.”
Aergia knew what he was referring to.
“The consumption of divine power?”
“Mm.”
Hypnos looked at her. This time, for the very first time, something beyond mere scrutiny appeared in those pinkish-purple eyes.
“Do it again.”
They tested it several more times, and the core result remained unchanged. Sloth could indeed significantly reduce a living being's resistance to sleep.
Creatures that had been continuously active grew sluggish, highly alert individuals gradually relaxed, and even beings extraordinarily sensitive to external stimuli lost the initiative to maintain constant vigilance under the influence of Sloth's divine power.
Yet a new problem came to light as well.
They were merely lazy; not a single creature drew closer to sleep on its own because of Aergia's authority.
On the fourth trial, Hypnos suddenly spoke: “They do not want to sleep.”
Aergia halted her actions. The creature on the ground lay lazily, eyes half-open, occasionally flicking its tail.
Indeed.
It did not want to move, yet it remained awake.
Aergia frowned as the question that had plagued her in the past surfaced in her mind once more.
Hypnos's sleep crossed directly from wakefulness into deep slumber, whereas her Sloth merely made living beings unwilling to continue acting. A blank gap still existed between the two.
What does a being go through before actually falling asleep?
Memories of her past life slowly surged forth.
Fatigue was not everything.
Sometimes the body was not particularly tired, yet as the night wore on, one gradually lost the ability to concentrate; sometimes, despite wanting to keep reading, the text drifted line by line past one's vision, eyelids grew heavy, and thoughts slowed down.
The most important part was not that “the body cannot move,” but that remaining awake itself began to take effort.
Thinking required maintenance, attention required maintenance, and responding to the outside world likewise required maintenance.
So-called wakefulness had never been a completely static state; it actively consumed consciousness.
If Sloth could weaken the will to act, then... why couldn't remaining awake also be affected by Sloth?
Aergia raised her hand once more. This time, she did not allow her divine power to envelop the test subject's physical body.
That languid, slow power bypassed muscle and bone, beginning to creep deeper.
The first attempt was unsuccessful. The creature quickly lost all desire to move, lying on the grass too lazy to even flick its tail, yet its eyes remained open, quietly gazing forward.
Hypnos looked down at it for a moment.
“This look is quite similar to you.”
“...”
On the second try, Aergia softened her power. She no longer attempted to stop the target's movement, but instead touched with extreme care that portion of energy sustaining the operation of its consciousness.
Relax a little, relax a little more... The clear gaze of the creature gradually lost focus.
It did not lie down immediately; its body even maintained its original posture, but its reaction speed visibly began to decline. When the wind rustled distant leaves, it took a long while before looking up.
Its eyelids drooped slowly, then opened again.
Not long after, they drooped once more.
Then, it opened its mouth and took a deep, long breath.
An action that had never before appeared in this world occurred naturally.
A yawn.
Aergia froze, and Hypnos's gaze also settled upon the creature.
It was not asleep; Hypnos knew this better than anyone.
Its consciousness still remained outside the realm of sleep, yet it was voluntarily drifting closer.
It was not forcefully dragged over by his authority, but slipping toward sleep on its own.
A concept—a rule that had never truly existed in a stable form before—took on a clear shape for the very first time right before their eyes.
The godhead of Sloth within Aergia vibrated faintly. She could feel something infinitely subtle sprouting from the depths of her godhead.
It was not sleep, nor was it pure Sloth; it existed between the two.
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