In the dimly lit, dilapidated house, constructed with shoddy craftsmanship, Rafeal found himself immersed in elusive dreams featuring a succession of unfamiliar faces.
"As night blankets the world, most are in slumber. But amidst them... who among these dreamers might be a cultist?" he pondered, teeth gritted in anxious anticipation, his eagerness to commence the impending actions evident.
"Must I embark on a tedious search, unveiling them one by one?" Rafeal mused, a restless energy coursing through him, fueled by a desire to commence his ominous mission.
"If only a more efficient path existed... Perhaps a direct transition from the painted realm to reality," he contemplated, yearning for a swifter means to enact his intentions.
