Chapter 1033: Bathed in Starlight

The space-time that had remained frozen for 1.87 million years began to unravel.

The wheel of history started turning once more. Everything that had been trapped in stasis broke free from its chains. The once-frozen seawater surged again, and ever-stronger winds poured into the vortex from all directions. The invisible “spherical shell” enclosing this space silently shattered. Along with the torrential rain came a deep, guttural roar from distant Tal’Rond, a sound that seemed to carry boundless madness and chaos.

The sky collapsed as if poured out, the massive cloud walls, cyclones, and countless tons of seawater caught in the storm coalesced into a terrifying tempest at sea. Lightning flashed, thunder roared, and rain fell in sheets. Dragon roars echoed from the depths of the clouds. It was as if the apocalypse had arrived. Yet amid this cataclysm, the colossal ancient starship pressed on, slowly ascending against the howling gale.

This was a starship infused with some of the Arisen’s technology—a miracle wrought by the mighty dragon civilization over a million years ago, created with the full might of their entire race. Though delayed by countless years, today it finally took flight.

“The storm is causing severe turbulence. The attitude correction engines are automatically adjusting the ship’s tilt,” Balogur said rapidly from the chief engineer’s console, eyes flicking over the data panels. “But their effect is limited. The Tal’Rond has already begun to deviate from its planned trajectory.”

“As long as it can get airborne, that’s success. Keep accelerating, keep climbing… Don’t worry about the destination or the exact route. Don’t think about returning. Just getting off the ground is victory,” Heragor said softly from the captain’s seat. “Can we do it?”

“Of course,” Balogur nodded confidently after a moment’s thought. “But the shaking will remain intense. I’m afraid I can’t eliminate all the vibrations and deviations…”

The navigator Andal chuckled. “This kind of shaking is nothing—we’re already doing the impossible getting this giant beast to fly. After all, this thing wasn’t designed to be piloted by just three people.”

The aged dragon spoke as he glanced back at the empty control hall behind them—a vast chamber lined with a dozen vacant seats. Each seat’s projection screen flickered with the names of comrades long lost to history, those who should have departed alongside the ship but had fallen forever before the journey even began.

Heragor caught Andal’s gaze and followed it across the empty hall. After a moment of silence, he broke it: “We’ll go up there for them.”

“Of course we will,” Balogur said in a low voice. “But… it won’t be easy.”

Almost as soon as Balogur finished speaking, a violent tremor shook the entire ship. Amid the chaos came countless indistinct sounds—part roar, part thunder. An indescribable psychic pressure surged across the vast distance, piercing layer after layer of shields and alloys, crashing into the control hall like a tidal wave.

Inside, Heragor, Andal, and Balogur felt the terrifying force strike at their very souls. Their senses were flooded with countless whispers. The knowledge of the gods battered their mental defenses. Through their wavering vision, they saw illusions: the ship hurtling straight toward a hellish abyss ablaze with roaring flames; countless dark rifts tearing open the sky; monstrous, maddening entities stretching out endless limbs, trying to drag down and destroy the vessel attempting to leave the planet…

The gods had caught up.

But in the next instant, the horrific visions vanished. The three dragons found themselves back in the cold, safe reality. They gasped for breath until Andal broke the silence first: “Omega is buying us time.”

“It’s the last time it can,” Heragor said grimly. “I can feel it… the god has left Tal’Rond and is closing in on us. Next time, we’ll face its true form.”

Balogur glanced down at the instruments, speaking rapidly: “We’re not high enough yet. We haven’t broken through—hold tight, I’m releasing all engine limits.”

Moments later, a relentless vibration filled the hall. The acceleration and dizziness intensified. The massive ancient ship pierced through the cloud walls of the eternal storm, ascending into the blue sky. It began to adjust its angle, tilting to enter the next phase of its trajectory. Almost simultaneously, a faint, chaotic roar echoed in Heragor’s mind.

Andal clearly heard it too. He shook his head with a wry smile. “Looks like we really pissed it off…”

“Of course,” Heragor gritted his teeth, struggling against the soul-level pressure—even though the mortal-divine bridge had been severed. The gods’ power had been weakened below the critical threshold by Omega, but once their will was restored, the psychic force still threatened to drive him mad. Though he couldn’t see his own face, he was certain it was twisted in a grimace. “After all… what we’re doing is the ultimate ‘defiance’…”

Andal forced himself to lift his gaze to the projection screen showing the distant blue sky. Amid the flood of psychic pollution, a faint smile crept across his face—

The ultimate defiance…

It wasn’t about breaking dogma, denying faith, or even slaying gods. For gods born from mortal thought and bound by rules, those acts were far from the ultimate defiance.

The ultimate defiance came only when mortals overcame their most primal chains and taboos, broke free from their cradle and swaddling clothes, and took their first true step into adulthood.

The ultimate defiance was stepping into the stars.

It signified a revolutionary shift in mortal understanding of the world. It marked a child growing up and leaving the cradle behind. It carried unparalleled symbolic weight and deserved the world’s applause—but it was beyond the endurance of any god.

Because every god’s existence and all their “information” were rooted on this very planet—something even Andal had taken many years to fully grasp.

Heragor felt his mind gradually calm. The feverish turmoil in his brain subsided. He exhaled softly and placed his hand on a panel to his left.

Andal looked up at the projection screen showing the outside sky—the horizon tilted, edges curved in a wide arc. Sunlight streamed in from the side and behind, casting a faint golden glow over the clouds. At the edge of the light, he could already see the curved, rising land and the faint twinkle of stars beyond the zenith.

The ship’s shaking lessened. The image on the screen dimmed, and the magnificent, radiant starry sky slowly emerged from the backdrop. The whole world seemed to quiet, save for the low hum of instruments running around them.

This lasted only a few seconds before an unprecedented tremor rocked the entire ship. Along with it came a tremendous explosion from a distant compartment.

In an instant, the control hall’s lights dimmed. Alarms blared sharply. Emergency orange lights flashed at every corridor entrance. The ship’s systems frantically reported damage across multiple compartments. Heragor felt his body tilt as the view on the screen began to roll. Then he heard Balogur’s shout: “Engine two detached from the hull! Antenna bay destroyed! Life support supplies destroyed! Reactor one destroyed… It’s caught up with us!!”

Andal gripped his seat tightly, fighting to keep his balance amid the rolling. He looked to the forward side projection screen, which showed the outside of the ship—a terrifying sight:

A long rift had torn open the sky outside. Within it, countless cold, maddened eyes glared. A grotesque, twisted dragon figure, pieced together from countless chaotic limbs, clung to the ship’s rear hull, tearing apart the dragon race’s masterpiece.

Part of the ship’s engines had been utterly destroyed. Twisted steel tumbled, spinning into the thick atmosphere below. Several huge holes had been ripped in the hull’s side. The heavy shields and tough alloy shell were shredded as if made of paper. Equipment, gases, and liquids poured out like shattered entrails, mingling with scorching smoke that billowed into space. Yet the chaotic dragon showed no sign of stopping. It continued dismantling the ship’s structure, climbing upward along the hull toward the core compartment!

“Hold the attitude—we still have three engines!” Heragor shouted, pulling Balogur’s focus back. “Keep climbing. We’re almost there!”

“It’ll tear the whole ship apart before then!” Balogur yelled, struggling to control the systems. “Don’t we have any weapons to fight back?!”

“Reaching the stars is the greatest fightback—” Heragor stood, gripping the seat’s back so hard his fingers dug into the alloy plating. “Look, it’s already weak!”

Andal’s eyes widened as he watched the scene outside. After overcoming the initial panic, he realized something—the chaotic dragon clinging to the Tal’Rond’s hull was now roughly the same size as the ship itself!

Not long ago, it had been as massive as a city, blotting out the sky over Tal’Rond. But now… it had weakened drastically once again.

Balogur noticed too. He frantically worked to restore the ship’s attitude, manually balancing the remaining engines—the automatic systems were completely destroyed. His efforts finally bore fruit: despite the ship’s precarious state and the constant alarms, it was still climbing, inching its way toward the stars!

Starlight began to shimmer across the hull of the ship. The pull of the planet beneath was fading, and Heragor felt his body growing lighter. On the projection screen before him, the chaotic dragon clinging to the ship’s exterior appeared smaller now—almost reduced to just a third of the vessel’s size.

Heragor was not surprised.

Though only three great dragons remained aboard, as long as they stood on this ship, as long as they journeyed toward the stars, the rite of “coming of age” was underway.

For gods born through symbolism, symbolic acts hold the absolute power of cosmic truth.

That’s why the final act of defiance must be completed by mortals themselves—Omega cannot do it, aliens cannot do it, no one else can.

Another explosion rocked the ship’s rear, the piercing alarms growing sharper and more grating. Amid the relentless shaking and jolting, Heragor gave his order without hesitation: “Jettison all return structures and escape pods. Divert every ounce of power to the main engine—I need it to hold for just three more minutes.”

“I’m here! It’ll hold for thirty!” Balogur shouted, resolutely carrying out Heragor’s command. “Keep your eyes wide open—we’ve waited over a million years for this moment!”

A powerful thrust surged through the ship. The already weary Talrond suddenly sparked with a final burst of life. It began to climb—again and again—its bright contrail stretching behind it. The thick, pristine atmosphere faded into a distant backdrop as the ship shed debris, trailing flames and thick smoke like a falling dancer plunging into the starry void. The twisted “god” still clung to the hull, ravenously gnawing at the core chamber’s defenses. Its form shrank, smaller and smaller… until it was flung into the vast emptiness of space.

Mortals had left their cradle behind; the gods were left at the last boundary of the planet’s edge.

Heragor felt himself lift, the final tether to the earth quietly dissolving. Distant starlight bathed the Talrond’s hull, streaming through the monitors into the control room—a breathtaking spectacle.

Against the deep backdrop of space, massive structures once hidden by ancient technology gradually shed their disguises as the Talrond drew near, revealing their true forms.

He turned to Balogur. “Engineer, open the dome and filters. We’re switching to visual observation.”

“Yes, Captain.”

On the battered core chamber hull, a protective panel slid open silently, and the blackout curtain slowly parted. Heragor controlled the flow of magic, letting himself float toward the window made of high-strength polymer, gazing out into the vast cosmos.

In the endless void, ancient satellite systems operated silently, and long-abandoned space stations drifted quietly in orbit.

They seemed to have waited here for countless years, waiting for the dragons once left behind on the planet to arrive.

“We’ve caught up…” Heragor whispered.

“Only for now,” came Andal’s low voice behind him. “Our kin left on the planet’s surface… cannot build a second Talrond.”

“But they will… even if they have to start from scratch.”

Heragor murmured, then withdrew his gaze from the distant satellites and stations. Just as he was about to return to his seat, a sudden stirring in his heart made him look up instinctively.

His eyes fixed on the other side of the curved polymer dome. The next moment, his breath and heartbeat froze.

There, floating in space, was a grotesque, twisted wreck—the chaotic dragon, shrunk many times over. The remnants of the once-divine features still clung to its chaotic, formless body, but now it looked so… small.

Faint glimmers of light flickered among the wreckage. As a god, it was not yet fully “dead,” but now it drifted silently, motionless.

Heragor’s tense expression slowly softened. He watched the drifting remains, observing the fading light deep within.

A vague, indistinct voice echoed in the depths of his mind—uncertain if real or illusion: “From now on… you must walk your own path.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“The world outside is dangerous. Protect yourselves.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Don’t forget to look back once in a while…”

“Yes, my lord.”

“…”

“Yes, my lord.”

(The End of This Chapter)