Chapter 1066: The Dragon’s Shadow Returns

Sorin Region.

The warmth brought by the Month of Revival had already spread across the entire Holy Spirit Plain. After months of dormancy in the harsh winter, the grass and trees began to burst back to life at an astonishing pace. Beyond the Sorin region, once-barren plains were now carpeted in green, the creeping vegetation finally linking up with the “Sorin” — this land of eternal spring. The sharp boundary that once marked the edge of the Great Tree’s domain was now slowly fading into a seamless blend.

It was a day perfect for healing wounds.

Inside the Great Tree, in Beltira’s private laboratory, glowing plants illuminated a room crafted from wood, entwined vines, and leafy canopies. At the center stood a platform about two meters long, formed from twisted vines and wooden stakes. Numerous conduits and nerve fibers—used to transport biomass and transmit neural signals—hung from the ceiling, connecting to one end of the platform. There, with long gray-white hair spread out, Andersa Wendell lay quietly, still deep in slumber.

A faint rustling sound came as several biomass conduits and nerve fibers retreated from near Andersa’s head, moving toward the platform’s edge.

Bard Wendell, dressed in a white researcher’s coat, stood anxiously beside the platform, watching his daughter. He rubbed his hands nervously, carefully observing every subtle twitch of Andersa’s sleeping face. Occasionally, he glanced up at Beltira, who stood nearby overseeing the entire process.

“How far along are we now?” Bard asked for what felt like the hundredth time. “How much longer until she wakes?”

“Patience, Bard,” Beltira said, glancing at him. Behind her, countless fine nerve fibers resembling delicate vines extended outward, their ends connected to key neural nodes embedded in the wooden walls and ceiling—glowing fungal-like clusters that had grown naturally into the structure. “Her eyes have fully regenerated, but reconnecting the complex optic nerves to the brain is a delicate task. I’m guiding this precise growth process… This isn’t like mending a broken bone or regenerating muscle tissue. It’s far more intricate.”

“I understand, I understand,” Bard said, awkwardly scratching his nose. As a druid himself, he knew how crucial these steps were. But as a father, it was hard to keep his emotions in check—especially after being absent from Andersa’s life for over twenty years. “Will there be any lasting side effects? Will she need more time to rest after waking?”

“If I were in charge, she’d probably need to lie still for several more days,” Beltira replied. “But since I’m handling it personally, she’ll only feel like she’s had a dream. Relax, Mr. Wendell—I’ll return to you a lively daughter… Well, considering Andersa’s personality, maybe not exactly ‘lively.’”

Beltira’s rare attempt at humor caught Bard off guard. He realized she was trying to soothe his nerves, and he felt grateful. “I never thought… you’d be the comforting type.”

“I’ve always been good at calming others,” Beltira said coolly, meeting his gaze. “Do you doubt that?”

“Well… you are good at it, but your methods used to be a bit less gentle,” Bard said with a wry smile. “After all, knocking someone out with poisonous vines and injecting neurotoxins into their bloodstream was also a form of ‘comfort’…”

Beltira gave him a quiet look. In the past, she might have already prepared a lethal dose of neurotoxin at that moment. But now, she just shook her head and returned her attention to the sleeping Andersa. “It’s clear you care deeply about this child.”

“I’ve been absent for over twenty years,” Bard said softly, looking at his daughter. His eyes softened. “Honestly… I don’t even know how to make up for it. I missed almost every important moment in her life—her growth, her struggles, how she sees the world, what she likes, every joy and sorrow… I know nothing. I’m a stranger who shares her blood but never truly took part in her life. Now, beyond this hollow ‘concern,’ I have nothing left.”

“Is that so…?” Beltira’s voice was cool and distant. “I have no children, and I’ve long forgotten what my own father looked like. I can’t really relate to these tangled emotions, so I can’t take sides here. But I am curious—since you’ve missed so much of your daughter’s life, what are your plans for the future?”

“The future?” Bard gave a helpless smile. “I just hope His Majesty’s grand vision comes true—that the war between Typhon and Cecil ends. Then maybe I’ll have a chance to meet Andersa not just as General Bard the Wolf, but as her father. Maybe even see my own father again… As for what I want to do specifically, I…”

He hesitated, seeming unsure if it was appropriate to say here. Beltira noticed and casually asked, “What do you want to do?”

“…I don’t know if I still have the right to say this,” Bard smiled faintly, gazing at his sleeping daughter. “I still dream of seeing Andersa walk down the aisle… She’s at the right age, but it seems she’s never even thought about it. Don’t laugh—I know it’s strange to say now, but it’s just a normal father’s wish. Miss Beltira, you know, I’m actually quite traditional…”

“No, I’m not laughing. Just surprised,” Beltira said, looking at him. “I thought you might feel differently—because from what I know, many fathers don’t want to see their daughters suddenly swept away by some lucky, unknown kid…”

Bard’s expression twisted oddly. “Well… I don’t think any lucky young man deserves Andersa. But if it’s someone as outstanding as General Philip, then maybe. Of course, the odds are slim, especially considering the tensions between Cecil and Typhon… Miss Beltira, you’re definitely smiling now, aren’t you? Please understand a father…”

“No, I’m not mocking you,” Beltira’s smile grew warmer. She pointed to the platform beside her. “I just want to tell you—Andersa is awake.”

Bard froze, then looked at his daughter with surprise and joy. Almost at the same moment, Andersa’s eyes opened—clouded with confusion and irritation.

Bard immediately noticed the change in her expression and suddenly realized something. He looked sharply at Beltira. “Wait, when did she wake up?!”

“When you mentioned ‘neurotoxin,’” Beltira said, her smile fading into a neutral expression. “But to help her adjust, I temporarily suppressed some of her neural signals… except for hearing.”

Bard: “…”

At that moment, he found himself oddly missing the neurotoxins Beltira used to wield as a dark priestess.

“Wait, Andersa, don’t get upset. I’m just sharing my thoughts,” Bard stammered awkwardly. “You have to understand, no one can stay tense forever…”

“Alright, I don’t want to interrupt this touching father-daughter moment, but we should check on the patient’s condition first,” Beltira suddenly spoke beside them, her voice like a heavenly melody to Bard’s ears. “Andersa, blink your eyes and look around—how do you feel?”

Andersa had a lot she wanted to say to her father, but she obeyed Beltira’s request first. She lowered her head to examine her body, then looked up to take in the incredible “treehouse” around her. As the initial discomfort faded, she confirmed one thing: she had two eyes again.

Bard’s attention returned to Andersa’s eyes. When she brushed aside the hair covering one side of her face, he immediately noticed something unusual—the newly regenerated eye was a vivid red. Though still beautiful, it starkly contrasted with her other pale gray eye. He gasped, “Wait, the color of that eye…”

“I told you, the new flesh regeneration technology has its limits,” Beltira said, handing Andersa a mirror. “But don’t worry. Aside from the difference in appearance, the new eye works perfectly—just like your original one, maybe even better. After all, it’s brand new.”

Andersa took the mirror and finally saw her reflection clearly. Beneath her gray-white hair, the mismatched eyes stood out strikingly—almost eerie, even unsettling. But she nodded gently. “It’s not bad… It helps me remember everything that happened more clearly.”

“Since the patient has no objections, I declare this treatment a complete success,” Beltira smiled. “Though I should warn you, Miss Andersa, having eyes like that might make finding a husband a bit harder… But don’t worry, your devoted father will work hard for your marriage prospects.”

Both Andersa and Bard’s expressions shifted at once. Beltira’s figure began to dissolve into a writhing mass of flowering vines, her voice echoing from deep within the foliage: “I won’t disturb this precious father-daughter time any longer—good luck, Bard Wendell.”

…

The Great Tree’s canopy swayed gently in the breeze, layers of green leaves rippling like waves. Bathed in the warm afternoon sun, Beltira emerged atop the treetop, tilting her head back with a satisfied, faintly joyful smile.

Expressing such emotion with a wooden body wasn’t easy, but today’s happy events were worth it.

The sunlight was wonderful, and photosynthesis was equally delightful. Beltira squinted her eyes. At the edge of her perception, the Great Tree’s roots and branches touched the vibrant life of the Holy Spirit Plain. In another layer of her senses—the Narrator Neural Network—countless streams of information exchanged rapidly through hubs scattered across the plain, converging at the Great Tree’s crown. The nerve fibers symbiotic with the arcane obelisks constantly relayed news from afar—so much so that she felt as if the entire human world had been woven into this ever-growing, complex network.

So every day, she basked in the sun, performed photosynthesis, bore fruit, fed the animals of the plain, immersed herself in the network, read distant news, or anonymously posted “interesting records” about the Great Tree… Life as a plant didn’t seem so bad after all.

Beltira felt her thoughts gradually drifting, melting into the warm, gentle sunlight. But then, a high-priority alert suddenly flashed through her neural network, jolting her awake and snapping her eyes wide open.

“Air defense identification alert?”

She muttered to herself, instinctively glancing up at the sky. The magic network hub tower to the north of Red Maple City was sending back signals, and monitoring devices scattered across the plains were continuously relaying increasingly precise tracking data. Guided by these signals, she slowly shifted her gaze—and finally caught sight of tiny black shapes emerging at the edge of the treetops.

Those shadows quickly grew larger—though from the ground they might still have seemed too small to make out clearly, as they swept past the towering Sorin trees, Beltira could now see exactly what they were.

A small squadron of dragons, flying in formation through the clouds.

Beltira stared in astonishment at the massive creatures, but didn’t forget to forward the identification markers through the network. She watched as the dragons continued southward, while the treetop air defense platforms and several ground positions around the Sorin trees lowered their Gorgon cannons aimed skyward. The large missile launchers and iridescent energy devices also released their locks on the foreign aerial targets.

“So they really are dragons… and more than one at that?” Beltira finally lowered her eyes from the sky once the dragon silhouettes vanished beyond the Sorin trees’ sensor range. “This is definitely a rare situation… Looks like ‘Brother Gawain’ is up to something big again.”

…

The vast expanse of the Holy Spirit Plains slowly receded beneath her as Melita took in the landscape—the green-tinged mountains and rivers sparkling silver in the sunlight, all as vivid as brushstrokes on a canvas. She felt the surge of magic in the air and let out a low, rumbling roar from deep in her throat.

After losing the Omega system’s assisted interface, it had taken her a long time to adjust to relying solely on her own eyes and senses for long-distance flight. It hadn’t been easy at first, but now she realized… without those complicated overlays, the world appeared far more vibrant and alive to her.

Just then, the voice of the sea witch Cassandra came from behind her: “I’ve always wondered—why do you dragons suddenly let out a roar while flying?”

Melita tucked away her thoughts and turned her head slightly. “Is that so strange? Don’t you sea witches sometimes burst into song while traveling across the ocean?”

Cassandra sounded surprised. “Ah—so that’s your singing? Honestly, it’s not very pleasant…”

Melita: “…”

“Hey, why’d you go quiet all of a sudden?”

“Nothing, just a little envious of you.”

“Envious? Envious of our singing?”

Melita listened to the voice behind her and gave a helpless smile. She wasn’t sure how to explain the sudden wave of melancholy welling up inside her, so she just nodded vaguely. “Something like that.”

Cassandra, perched on Melita’s back like a windrider, immediately brightened. “Great! I’ll sing you a song then. I’m free anyway, so consider it a thank-you for carrying me all this way…”

“Uh, actually—”

“No need to be polite! Sea witches love to sing,” Cassandra said, cutting her off. “What style do you like? I’m pretty good at death metal…”

Melita: “?”

“Wait a moment, I’ll rub my tail and conjure up some instruments first…”

Melita: “?”

(End of chapter)