Chapter 1084: Reaching Consensus

In the shadowed courtyard shrouded by boundless chaos and darkness, the colossal stag Amon stood facing the dormant Arcane Network Terminal.

“I think this thing’s broken,” the former god of nature finally concluded after a long silence. “It didn’t even light up when it was delivered.”

“I’ve told you several times already—the Arcane Network Terminal isn’t supposed to be powered on during transport. It needs to be placed within an energy field to operate,” sighed the towering lady beside Amon, woven from mist and arcane runes. Her breath stirred a moderate arcane vortex in the shadow realm, causing countless crackling lightning bolts to dance along the courtyard’s edges. “Didn’t the person who installed it explain how to use it?”

“That mortal named ‘Kamail’ delivered it. He didn’t say anything, and I didn’t ask,” Amon muttered gloomily. “He seemed busy and didn’t want to stick around.”

“I can imagine,” said the goddess of magic, Mylmina, lowering her head. Her eyes shimmered with arcane light as they flicked between Amon and the terminal. “I’ve heard about him. His feelings toward you must be complicated. And honestly, it wouldn’t be much different if someone else came to help—you were once a god, after all. Mortals wouldn’t think you’d still need someone to teach you how to use this kind of thing…”

“That’s not my fault. My domain is natural power, not arcane secrets. Besides, I’ve been away from the Prime Material Plane for three thousand years—three thousand years! Do you know how I’ve spent those years? Just lying here…”

Before Amon could finish, Mylmina cut him off. “So, do you want my help or not?”

Without hesitation, Amon replied, “No, I can manage on my own.”

Mylmina looked somewhat disdainful, shaking her head as she stood. “Fine. If you don’t want help, I’ll go for a walk.”

No sooner had she spoken than the mistress of mysteries and magic transformed into a fierce whirlwind of arcane energy, sweeping like a gale across the vast fields of shattered stone and endless darkness, quickly vanishing from Amon’s sight.

Amon remained motionless, resting among the giant stones and metal structures, his gaze fixed on the direction where Mylmina had disappeared. Only after she was swallowed by the darkness did he sigh softly, “Actually, if you wanted to help…”

Suddenly, a fierce wind swept in from afar, carrying powerful magical fluctuations and trailing arcane lightning. Mylmina reappeared before Amon as swiftly as she had left. The elegant lady bent slightly, a faint smile playing beneath the mist that veiled her face. “See? I told you you needed help.”

Amon was silent.

“No need to be polite. This is a mere trifle for me,” Mylmina’s smile deepened. Before Amon could protest, she bent down and gently reached out a finger toward the Arcane Network Terminal fixed on a floating monolith. Though this terminal was a large-scale public facility-grade device, it seemed almost pocket-sized before her.

“Watch, it’s really just this simple…”

A small cluster of arcane sparks burst from the void. Mylmina’s finger didn’t touch the device, but the resonance of magical energy activated the intricate runic array inside. A faint humming rose as the runes lit up in sequence, and the terminal’s projection crystal brightened. Above it, a clear holographic image appeared.

A sweet-smiling woman appeared on the screen, introducing a newly opened neural network distribution station in the city. Behind her, rows of immersion pods stood ready for citizens to experience.

“…Ah, it’s lit up,” Amon said after a few seconds.

“Don’t talk. Watch the show,” Mylmina interrupted.

“So you just wanted to use my Arcane Network Terminal,” Amon said flatly, his tone unreadable. “Why don’t you just ask that human for one? He probably wouldn’t mind…”

“I do mind. I still have to be cautious—I must avoid contact with any mortal. I’m not sure if any inadvertent touch might reconnect me to the Prime Material Plane. I’m not even sure if I’ve fully completed my self-isolation and purification. And most importantly… I’m still observing that ‘human’ you mentioned. Until I’m certain he’s trustworthy, I won’t take any risks.”

“To me, you’re not as cautious as you claim. But since it’s your choice, I won’t argue,” Amon said calmly. “Just a reminder… our time isn’t unlimited. This civilization has survived peacefully for a long while, but in this world, tranquility never lasts forever.”

Mylmina glanced silently at the giant stag beside her. Her arcane-lit eyes flickered as if pondering something, but she said nothing.

Amon fell silent too, as he had for many years past—except now, lively voices echoed through the dark, chaotic courtyard. This once lifeless world had gained a spark of vitality.

The two former gods sat and reclined quietly in the rebellious fortress’s courtyard, watching over a magic device that seemed tiny to them. The achievements of mortal civilization in this era accompanied them—seemingly insignificant, yet somehow utterly captivating. Whether they were enchanted by the mortal “programs” or simply the peaceful moment, no one could say.

“How do I change the channel?” Amon suddenly asked.

“Don’t change it yet. Let me finish this segment first, then I’ll show you.”

…

Gawain’s story had ended. After skipping over the grand details of the dragon civilization’s glory and histories unrelated to the Loren continent, the dragons’ million-year endurance and final escape didn’t require much time. Considering the audience’s worldview and the difficulty of explaining technical details, he also omitted the Omega’s takeoff and voyage. Yet even so, the thrilling tale deeply moved Rosetta and Matilda.

“That’s the story of Tal’Rond,” Gawain sighed, summarizing. “They’ve now gained freedom. This civilization, which endured unimaginably long ages and once reached the pinnacle of glory, has been reborn from the ashes and returned to the mortal world. They’re not just legends sung by bards or monsters from other dimensions. Dragons have flesh and blood—they’re mortal beings like us. They face hardships, and now they’ve decided to seek help from the mortal world.”

“…I can hardly imagine that beyond the ‘world’ we know, such things are happening,” Matilda whispered. “The merging gods… the destructive ‘breaking free’… I thought everything we experienced on the Winter Fortress battlefield was the peak of all legendary history. But it seems… there’s still so much beyond our imagination.”

“You mentioned that the dragons, in their final stage, broke free from the gods’ control by escaping this planet?” Rosetta’s attention sharpened. “Their ambassador described this as the ‘ultimate act of defiance’?”

“Yes,” Gawain nodded. “According to the dragons, it’s a crucial ‘ritual symbol’—a key step for a mortal species to leave the cradle and reach maturity. From what I understand, it relates to the mechanism of godhood’s birth. The details involve very complex theoretical models. If we have technical exchanges later, I can discuss it with you in depth.”

Rosetta looked Gawain in the eyes, speaking slowly and deliberately. “You mean the entire conceptual foundation for gods’ birth is based on mortals’ understanding of ‘this planet,’ and the cosmic starfield lies beyond our old worldview. Mortal religions never considered how to explain the order among the stars. So once entering the starfield, the gods lose the doctrinal basis for their existence?”

Gawain paused, his gaze suddenly deepening. “You know this?”

“The Augustus family coexisted with something that called itself a god for two centuries,” Rosetta smiled, pointing to her forehead. “Whether it can still be called a god is debatable, but at least its knowledge was real. It drew spiritual nourishment from us, and we secretly siphoned forbidden knowledge and ancient memories from it.”

“…You’ve been ‘stealing’ knowledge from that ‘Eye of God’?” Gawain asked, surprised. “How much have you gained?”

“Not a lot, just a fragment. But it’s still a fragment of a god,” Rosetta said, deliberately leaving a hint of suspense. “Fortunately, that ‘Eye’ was active during a civilization’s golden age. Many secrets unknown in our time were common knowledge then. Unfortunately, for a long time, this knowledge was more a burden. Under the Eye’s control, generations of ours couldn’t put it to use.”

She paused, opening a hand. “So you see, we really need to have further technical exchanges.”

Gawain laughed, genuinely pleased by the unexpected prospect. “It seems so. The Theocracy Council will value these precious materials.”

He raised his glass and clinked it with Rosetta’s. After a polite sip, she fell into thought. The Typhon ruler was silent for a moment, then looked up and fixed Gawain with a long, intense gaze. Just as it was about to cross the line of etiquette, she broke the silence with a solemn expression: “So, you deal with these matters all the time?”

Gawain quickly grasped the implication behind her words. He gave a complex smile, his voice heavy with experience. “If I could avoid it, I would. But as someone who’s died and come back, I’m destined to face many unimaginable things. God relics, magical tides, the mad god’s countdown… There’s so much that could destroy our fragile realms.”

“Indeed, so much could destroy our fragile realms… Ordinary people are lucky because they know nothing of this. As long as the end hasn’t come, they can enjoy their last moments of peace,” Rosetta shook her head, then joked, “And your misfortune is that you know it all—and have to watch it draw ever closer every day.”

“That’s your misfortune now, too,” Gawain said calmly.

Rosetta ignored the teasing tone and sighed, “Now I believe even more in your idea of a ‘community of fate’ and your plans to push the world’s transformation.”

Curious, Gawain asked, “Why the sudden change of heart?”

“…Someone standing before the truth of the apocalypse has no energy left to scheme over others’ bread.”

Gawain raised an eyebrow. “That sounds like high praise—so, will you unconditionally support Cecil because of that?”

“Of course not. I wouldn’t even trust you personally,” Rosetta said without hesitation. “What I believe in is your ideals and your plan. And I’m even more convinced that you’d be willing to do whatever it takes to uphold those ideals—Typhon might be your ally, but just as easily, you could treat them as expendable resources or fodder to fend off the apocalypse, couldn’t you?”

Gawain smiled but didn’t answer.

After two seconds of silence, he steered the conversation back. “So, what’s the situation with Talrond?”

“Naturally, on that front, I stand with Cecil. Though Typhon has been through a lot, we still have enough food in our country. We’ll also be calling on the Gaoling Kingdom in the south, along with the various tropical kingdoms, to support Cecil in swiftly establishing and launching the Food Committee.”

Rosetta shook her head, a hint of admiration in her voice. “Like you said earlier, the luckiest part of all this is that the dragons, facing catastrophe, held the line for civilized peoples. They chose to save themselves proactively and seek peaceful aid to get through the crisis. That way, we don’t have to face a ‘dragon disaster’ on top of the divine calamity. But in my view… nothing in this world is absolute.”

“Are you worried some dragons might lose control and cross the ocean to raid weaker human territories?”

“Not worried—it’s a certainty,” Rosetta nodded firmly. “I don’t know the full situation in Talrond, nor have I had contact with the dragons, but I can infer a lot from what you’ve described. Dragons, like us, have human weaknesses and limits to their power. After society collapses, how much can their provisional government control in the wasteland? How many refugees can they gather and restrain? There will definitely be dragons who break free of control—dragons so powerful they can cross endless oceans with their bare strength to harass human borders. If that happens, it’ll be a nightmare. How do we send back these ‘refugees’ who don’t follow the rules? Not to mention, it would severely dampen the enthusiasm of member nations participating in the food relief efforts.”

Gawain looked at Rosetta calmly and said, “…Shoot them down after three warnings.”

(End of chapter)