Chapter 1112: The Retired Deities

Balogur and Melita instinctively exchanged glances, each seeing the same bewilderment reflected in the other’s eyes. Every word spoken by Gawain was perfectly clear—each one a common term on the continent of Loren—but when strung together, the meaning became maddeningly elusive. Who on earth could understand this?

Gawain clearly sensed how complicated and difficult communication had become. After a moment’s thought, he glanced sideways—apparently after a brief exchange—and then turned his gaze back to the holographic projection. “Would you be interested in speaking with her directly? The situation is complex, and it’s not easy for me, an outsider, to relay everything accurately. Matters between dragons are best discussed among yourselves.”

“Speak with her…?” Duke Balogur was momentarily stunned. Then, as the true weight of Gawain’s suggestion sank in, his expression shifted dramatically. Memories spanning a million years unfurled in his mind like layers of yellowed scrolls—ancient fears, long endurance, painstaking plans, and the tangled emotions stirred by the deity who had once sheltered their kind through countless disasters. All of it surged up at once, heavy on his heart. This ancient dragon suddenly felt a flicker of hesitation. Though he had never flinched before when facing a wrathful, uncontrollable god, at this moment… he was genuinely afraid.

He wasn’t sure if he was ready to confront that old deity again, especially since he had once plotted to harm her personally. But he knew this would be a pivotal moment in his life.

Perhaps it was also the most important moment for the reborn dragonkind as they stepped into a new era.

“I… never imagined I’d have to face this after the dawn of the new age,” the Dragonblood Duke murmured, as if speaking both to Gawain and to himself. Then he lifted his head, eyes steady. “Let me… meet her. I need to know if this incredible thing you mentioned is true or not.”

Gawain nodded at the hologram. “Alright, I’ll adjust the device’s angle.”

As he spoke, the image projected by the arcane network terminal began to rotate aside. Melita and Duke Balogur both took a deep breath, trying to steady their pounding hearts.

A faint golden arc of light appeared at the edge of the image. Balogur swallowed hard, masking his unease behind a face carved like stone. He suppressed the endless thoughts about gods, the apocalyptic war, the heavy history, and the uncertain future. He was ready to face the goddess who had been betrayed by him—and by all dragons.

The image fully turned, revealing a massive golden egg still in its dragon-egg form before Balogur and Melita. Floating in front of the egg was a newspaper, and nearby, several teacups hovered in midair.

The cups bobbed up and down, swirling their contents back and forth, as if having a good time.

Balogur: “…”

Melita: “…”

“Ah, Balogur, Melita—long time no see,” came a familiar, gentle female voice from the other side of the image, muffled slightly by the thick eggshell. “It’s good to see you’re still around.”

Balogur finally regained his composure, his tangled thoughts scattered. He blurted out, “Why is it an egg?”

“It was an egg when you sent her,” Gawain’s voice came from the side of the image. “Melita knows this, and there’s video evidence too…”

“Ahem, no, that’s not what I meant,” Balogur coughed, realizing his mind was a bit foggy from the shock. He quickly tried to clarify, “I mean… why is she still an egg? From what you described earlier, I thought—”

“Ah, I see what you mean,” Gawain’s figure stepped into the frame beside the golden egg. “She has indeed awakened, but remains in the egg form… We just had a deep discussion about the hatching process, but even she doesn’t know when she’ll hatch.”

Balogur’s lips twitched. The situation had completely outpaced his expectations, yet somehow, this development felt better. He no longer had to face that familiar figure directly, nor bear that indescribable pressure.

What he had to face now was simply… an egg, calmly drinking tea and reading the paper.

He stared at the hologram, mouth opening, then hesitated. He wasn’t sure how to address her now. After a couple of seconds, a title from deep in his memory surfaced, and he began to speak, “My—”

But before he could finish, a sharp interruption came: “Balogur, stop. Don’t say that word anymore—no honorifics, no worship, don’t treat me like a god. Call me by my name. From now on, only by my name.”

Balogur took a slow breath. The next few syllables cost him great effort, but he managed to say, “Enya… Lady.”

At that moment, something deep within the Dragonblood Duke’s soul quietly dissolved—something that had lurked in the depths of his heart for who knows how long, perhaps to resurface someday. But now, it was truly gone. A profound sense of relief washed over him.

“That’s right, Balogur,” the golden egg’s voice came through the projection, warm and smiling. Unlike the godly benevolence she once radiated, now her smile felt like that of a long-lost friend, comforting and familiar. “You’ve grown up. Remember? You defeated me, broke the chains with your own hands, accomplishing what no mortal race ever has. So you should be confident—confident before any god, especially me, a ‘god’ who is no longer a god.”

“Enya… Lady,” Balogur’s voice wavered strangely, “we…”

“It’s all in the past,” the golden egg said softly. “You’ve sacrificed so much… what you deserve is a future, not the past. Honestly, I didn’t want to meet you so soon, but Gawain thought it best to talk with you quickly, to avoid certain risks in this ‘Age Without Gods.’ Besides, I have some things to explain…”

…

In Cecil City, seeing that things were moving in a positive direction, Gawain prepared to leave.

He had more than one task today; another meeting awaited his arrangement.

Before departing, he looked at Enya and said, “From here on, this is your ‘family matter.’ I’ll take my leave. I’ll leave this portable arcane network terminal here for now. It only has basic communication functions, but in a couple of days, a specially made device will be delivered. You can look forward to it.”

“Thank you for the arrangements,” Enya replied, the faint glow on the eggshell flickering gently. “Also, you can look forward to the ‘drink’ I’m preparing for you—I’m starting to get the hang of it.”

Gawain’s gaze fell on the teacups floating beside the golden egg, and a smile spread across his face. After a polite farewell to Enya, he left the room with a grin.

Not long after, deep within the Shadow Realm, Gawain strode alone through the energy barrier gate leading to the courtyard area of the Rebellious Fortress. The chaotic, dimly lit shattered land stretched before him, with a winding “path” forged from ancient alloys and steel chains snaking forward. At the end of this broken terrain lay a massive, mountain-like form, quietly resting among the ruins. A sacred radiance rose from it, illuminating the gloomy surroundings.

Around this colossal body, numerous brand-new arcane devices hummed to life. An invisible “field” enveloped the entire area. Though intangible, Gawain knew this “Anti-Divinity Barrier” was a verification technology designed to block spiritual contamination from gods.

He approached the great stag Amorn, whose arcane network terminal was projecting a new series from Philm Studios. This ongoing magical shadow drama about the Mistmoon War had recently become a hot topic among imperial citizens.

As Gawain neared, Amorn turned his gaze toward him. A deep, pleasant voice with a slight resonance filled the air: “It’s been a while, Gawain.”

“Are you satisfied with these?” Gawain smiled and nodded, chatting casually like old friends. “These custom devices were personally crafted by the empire’s chief artisans.”

“Very satisfied, my friend,” Amorn replied cheerfully—an expression Gawain had never seen before. “After three thousand years of boredom, these little toys are real treasures… You’ve truly created something remarkable.”

“Glad to hear it,” Gawain said. Then, without mentioning the Silver Empress, he casually scanned the surroundings and suddenly asked, “Is Lady Mimirna not here?”

The atmosphere in the courtyard instantly stiffened. Amorn remained silent. Only the projection on the terminal continued playing. In the corner of Gawain’s vision, a faint spark flickered, but when he looked, all he saw was swirling darkness.

This awkward stalemate lasted nearly half a minute before Amorn finally spoke: “Mimirna… that’s the name of the goddess of magic, isn’t it? She’s been missing, right? Ventured into the deepest part of the Shadow Realm… Why do you think she’d be here?”

Gawain scanned the darkness around him, shrugging with a wry smile. “Isn’t she here every day, binge-watching dramas? Or wait—are you the one binge-watching?”

Amorn still said nothing, so Gawain continued, “If one terminal isn’t enough for you two, I can install another here, so you don’t have to fight over it…”

“Come out,” Amorn said to the side. “No use hiding now that you’ve been found.”

No sooner had he spoken than a swirling mist appeared from the darkness, shimmering with arcane sparks. Countless intricate runes bound the base of the cloud. Within seconds, a towering figure with distinct feminine features took shape in the fog. Her lower body was ethereal and transparent, while her upper half was that of a beautiful woman—a “goddess” materialized before Gawain, who immediately caught Amorn’s eye with a glare.

“You betrayed me again—how many times now?” Mimirna crossed her arms, annoyed. “You didn’t even hesitate!”

“I did hesitate. It was a fierce internal struggle.”

“Lasted a whole second, huh?!”

“Psychological activity happens in an instant…”

Gawain had long suspected that Mimirna would be here, but seeing two gods suddenly bickering like ordinary mortals still caught him completely off guard. He stared, dumbfounded, at the exchange between Mimirna and Amon, clearly realizing that this kind of interaction had become their usual way of relating to each other—something that not only shattered mortal notions of divinity but even stretched the limits of his own imagination.

Yet soon, a faint realization dawned on him. His gaze shifted from shock to thoughtful contemplation as he looked at the two former deities, and finally, a small smile crept onto his lips.

It seemed Amon only just remembered the presence of a third person. Clearing his throat, he ended the quarrel with Mimirna. “Let’s not argue anymore. I have a guest in my little garden today.”

Mimirna reluctantly fell silent. Her eyes dropped down to Gawain, and after a brief moment of awkward hesitation, she quietly broke the silence. “Hello.”

“Lady Mimirna,” Gawain looked up at her with a smile. “This isn’t our first time dealing with each other, but it is the first time we’ve actually met.”

“Our last encounter was at the grand funeral you arranged for me,” the goddess of magic replied calmly. Now she appeared serene and graceful, with none of the earlier tension from her argument with Amon.

Perhaps her mortal side was still not fully stable?

A thought flickered through Gawain’s mind as he casually asked, “Were you satisfied with that funeral?”

“It was unexpected. What you did surprised me for a long time, but yes, I was satisfied—the funeral brought everything to a very fitting conclusion.”

Gawain nodded and spoke in a conversational tone. “But since then, you’ve been hiding away in the Shadow Realm, avoiding contact with us. Is that because you feared the ‘disconnection’ might happen again?”

Mimirna’s gaze grew more serious as she looked at him. She lowered her height—her lower body wrapped in layers of mist that resembled an elaborate court gown folding in on itself. Though it still didn’t bring her eye level with Gawain, it made the conversation feel a bit more comfortable. “You might think I’m overly cautious, but I have to avoid any risks. At the time, I couldn’t be sure how effective your neural network’s ‘purification’ was, nor how far you and your mortal leaders could explore the unknown realm of ‘divinity.’”

“So, are you a little more at ease now?”

“Not completely, but at least halfway,” Mimirna said earnestly, then suddenly smiled. “Otherwise, I definitely wouldn’t have come out—even if this old stag betrayed me without hesitation.”

Amon’s voice immediately chimed in from beside them. “I told you, I struggled fiercely with my conscience back then…”

(End of chapter)