Chapter 1050: Unlocking New Layers

Melita had to admit—this was by far the most embarrassing and humiliating landing she’d ever experienced since hatching. Although her crash rate had always been higher than most of her kin’s due to occasional carelessness or glitches in her visual implants, nothing compared to the way she tumbled and scrambled before the Speaker Andar.

Without a doubt, it was all because of the implant malfunctions—the disappearance of the Omega system had caused various auxiliary implants to shut down, and without the enhanced vision system, she simply couldn’t adapt…

But no matter how painful and awkward that failed landing was, all of it vanished the moment she saw that familiar, heavily augmented old dragon before her. Her mind was instantly flooded with surprise and disbelief.

Speaker Andar was alive. Even High Priest Hragor was alive.

Three dragons stood beside the massive crater where she’d crashed. Two of them were dragons Melita knew well—ones she had long believed dead in the final battle. The third, Balogor, was a stranger to her. The true identity of the Dragonblood Duke was a secret to ninety-nine percent of all dragons on Talrond, and even as a council member, Melita was no exception.

…

It took a long time for Hragor, Andar, and Balogor to piece together the general situation on Talrond from Melita and Dukmor’s accounts, to understand what had changed on the land since they left the planet.

“I never thought… I’d see you all return alive,” Dukmor said, his eyes heavy with complex emotions as he looked at the three old friends before him. He was one of the few ancient dragons left on Talrond, having stayed behind during the final rite of adulthood to fight the divine calamities. As one of the ancient rebels, he bore no regrets about that choice, but seeing this moment still filled him with awe. “This is a miracle among miracles.”

“We never expected to come back either, and even less to see you alive, Dukmor,” Hragor replied with equal emotion. “So… all the survivors have regained their consciousness? And Omega left Talrond after releasing the minds of all dragons?”

“That seems to be the case,” Dukmor lowered his massive head, the red glow in his mechanical eye dimming. “Though few survived, they all woke up. As for the Omega system… we can’t confirm the status of the buried computational nodes underground, but we’ve uncovered some city service lines and factory data processing stations on the surface. A small portion still functions. When we connected to the main network through those lines, we detected Omega’s ‘disappearance.’ From the few signals we received, it seems the underground nodes are still ‘alive,’ but the Omega system that should be running there is gone.”

Melita couldn’t help but think of the phrase “the body remains, but the soul has left.” Then she realized how strange that thought was—Omega was a super AI. Did it even have a soul?

While Melita was lost in thought, Balogor recalled their strange encounter in space. The ancient machinist looked at Dukmor and asked, “Do you know how we got back?”

Dukmor immediately replied, “I was just about to ask…”

“We were saved by a strange… being,” Balogor said gravely. “It swept past our ship like a dragon forged of steel. Though its form flashed by quickly and looked very odd, I could recognize many features from Talrond, from our own kind…”

Andar, having rested for a moment, took up the thread in a low voice: “It came from this planet, then vanished into the vast depths of the cosmos.”

“You mean…” Dukmor’s eyes widened as he finally grasped the implication in his old friends’ words. The possibility stunned him. “You encountered… Omega?! But that’s impossible… Why? That doesn’t fit Omega’s expected behavior at all…”

“Yes, it doesn’t fit his logic,” Hragor said softly. “According to our original programming, after the final battle, Omega was supposed to immediately erase all dragon minds to prevent the reformation of the Mindsteel Seal. It was to perform a second purge to stop any resurgence of thought currents. After completing this final task, it should have taken no further action and quietly awaited system collapse… But it didn’t. It did things outside its programming. It even… chose to leave this planet.”

“That sounds… like it developed a ‘heart,’” Dukmor muttered, shivering involuntarily. “I feel chills.”

“Chills? I don’t feel that,” Hragor shook his head. “I’m thinking of something else.”

Dukmor looked at him curiously. “Something else?”

“Omega’s ‘change’ couldn’t have come from nowhere. Someone must have influenced it, and that influence must have reached the very core of its logic base,” Hragor said calmly. “We designed Omega’s program based on our understanding of the gods. To minimize all risks, we pushed every parameter to the extreme—but that doesn’t mean it had to reach that ‘limit.’ We went to such extremes because we feared failure.

“But in the end, Omega didn’t reach that ‘limit.’ It didn’t erase all dragon minds. It even saved the three of us. And none of these actions caused failure.

“We still won. Though we were prepared to sacrifice everything, in the end, not everything was lost. It’s as if an invisible hand, on a razor-thin line between life and death, tweaked our crude, simplistic plan—snatching a sliver of hope from an otherwise doomed fate.”

Hragor spoke slowly. As the oldest leader and rebel among dragons, and the priest most familiar with the gods, his words carried weight. Andar and the others fell silent, each lost in thought. Only Melita still looked puzzled—she felt she understood some of it but hadn’t fully grasped what had happened.

After a long pause, Hragor finally broke the silence in the twilight glow: “That hand… understands the gods better than any of us rebels who have pondered for 1.87 million years.”

Andar remained silent for a long moment before rasping, “Indeed. Nothing in this world understands the gods better than Him.”

Melita blinked, her huge, crystal-clear eyes full of confusion. She looked at the leaders and hesitated before carefully asking, “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing for now. You’ll understand in time. For now, we have other matters to focus on,” Andar said, shaking his head gently. The old dragon slowly rose to his full imposing height and gazed toward the old Argondor region. “You’ve set up a temporary refuge near Argondor, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” Melita nodded quickly. “Elder Dukmor gathered the initial survivors, but now Karador is managing the camp’s day-to-day affairs…”

“Ah, Karador is still alive… I remember him. He’s outstanding,” Andar said, slowly unfurling his massive wings. “But in this situation, even the best dragon needs more help. We must reach that refuge quickly. With more support, perhaps more of our kin can survive.”

“Can you still fly properly?” Dukmor glanced at Andar. “After Omega went offline, many implants stopped working. Even I had to have several faulty implants removed before I could move freely again—and you have no fewer implants than I do, plus you just survived a crash.”

“It was a forced landing, my old friend. A forced landing,” Balogor interjected immediately. “Also, don’t underestimate a seasoned machinist’s skills—I’ve already adjusted Andar’s implants, removing or disabling all malfunctioning devices. I guarantee he can fly all around Talrond now.”

Andar shot Balogor a glance, then suddenly smiled with a carefree air. “If he says I can, then I can.”

“Alright, I trust Talrond’s greatest machinist—though it’s been many years since he worked on contemporary Talrond tech,” Dukmor chuckled, shaking his massive head. “And we don’t need you to circle the whole planet… Our camp is just beyond that cliff.”

…

“This is all the information we have so far,” Duchess Victoria reported with her usual cool composure, the holographic projection from the arcane network terminal displaying the latest observations along the northern border over the past twenty-four hours. “Based on several close-range sea and air reconnaissance missions, we can confirm the Eternal Storm has completely dissipated. The former sea area still has a strong circular current, with multiple unstable cyclones nearby, causing widespread rainfall and huge waves. These are likely natural phenomena triggered by residual magical energy left after the storm’s disappearance.

“These phenomena are rapidly fading and should vanish entirely within two weeks at most. Of course, the storm’s disappearance will have long-term meteorological effects—ocean currents and marine climate will change. These ‘traces’ may last a very long time, possibly permanently.”

Gawain sat behind his desk, listening to Victoria’s report, but his mind drifted back to that journey to Talrond long ago—riding on Melita’s back through the storm, experiencing everything firsthand.

He thought of the ancient battlefield hidden in the folds of time and space beneath the storm’s base—the frozen dragons, the gods, and the ancient “relic” at the heart of the maelstrom.

Others might not know, but he understood clearly: the Eternal Storm was sustained by that strange, stagnant, time-warped space. Those ancient forces entrenched in that sea region were the reason the cloud walls and vortex never dissipated.

And now, that sustaining force had clearly vanished.

“Your Majesty, should we conduct further reconnaissance?” Victoria’s voice pulled Gawain from his thoughts. The duchess wore her usual serious expression—most of the time, that was her default. “The sea witches and naga of the northern port have offered to attempt an approach from beneath the sea. Perhaps they can discover something.”

“They’re willing to help?” Gawain was surprised, then smiled with delight. “That’s excellent. We definitely need more reconnaissance.”

—Even after the storm had passed, the seas remained treacherous. Cecil’s current ships and aircraft still struggled to operate safely in the open ocean. However, the sea witches and nagas, who naturally dwelled in the deep waters, should be unaffected by the lingering “natural threats” left in the storm’s wake. If they were willing to lend a hand, that would be ideal.

“I understand,” Victoria nodded. “I’ll make the arrangements.”

Gawain gave a brief affirmative hum, then looked up again. “Anything else to report?”

“Nothing on my end,” Victoria replied. “But Duke Bertram’s side might have some updates.”

Gawain nodded. After ending the communication with Victoria, he immediately connected to the Westmarch’s Tenwood City. The holographic projection of the refined and dignified Duke Bertram Franklin appeared.

“Good afternoon, Your Majesty.”

“Good afternoon, High Chancellor,” Gawain greeted the projection with a nod. “What’s the situation on your side?”

“We’ve received some concerning intelligence from the Ogure tribal nation,” Bertram said gravely. “Our arcane engineers sent there to assist with establishing the main leyline network hub have reported some troubling developments.”

“Troubling developments?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. The construction of the main leyline hub at Ancestor’s Peak has officially begun. But since the first test arcane obelisk was activated, the devices installed at the summit have been frequently picking up interference signals from unknown sources. Preliminary analysis shows these signals bear a notable resemblance to those we encountered in the Soren region and Winterhold.”

Gawain’s eyes widened in surprise. He instinctively leaned forward. “Signals at Ancestor’s Peak too? And from a test device, no less?”

“Exactly. Low-powered test units,” Bertram confirmed. “The signals they’re receiving are strong but heavily mixed with ‘noise,’ which is quite different from anything we’ve seen so far. The arcane engineers stationed at Ancestor’s Peak have already transmitted samples of the signals back, but the ‘impurities’ in the data are so severe that the technicians in Tenwood City can’t process them. I’ve forwarded the samples to the neural network, hoping the Imperial Computing Center can filter out the troublesome static.”

(End of chapter)