Chapter 1134: Toward a New World

The old man filled in his name on the form with remarkable ease, his handwriting flowing in a style so elegant and refined that the young clerk behind the counter couldn’t help but admire it. To her, it looked like a work of art—so neat and graceful. After handing the form back, the girl found herself doubting her earlier judgment. Could a “senior gentleman whose mind might not be entirely clear” really produce such beautiful penmanship?

Of course, she wasn’t a professional doctor or druid; she knew well that handwriting alone couldn’t reveal much. Still, the brief doubt sparked her curiosity, and she glanced at the old man a few more times before finally asking, “May I ask what brings you to Tal’ron’d? I mean… you don’t look young anymore, and joining an expedition is quite risky.”

“To travel to an unknown land, to witness unfamiliar wonders, to undertake thrilling—and potentially beneficial—endeavors for many people… and now all it takes is filling out a form. Do you really need more reasons than that?” The old man looked at the young woman with a knowing, slightly condescending gaze, as if she were a naive child. “Besides, it’s Tal’ron’d! Any sane adventurer would seize this chance with both hands. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!”

“Well… you do have a point,” the clerk admitted, her voice wavering slightly under the old man’s enthusiasm. She found herself questioning her earlier assumption about his “condition.” This really seemed like a passionate, clear-headed adventurer, filled with longing for Tal’ron’d.

She also caught a subtle detail in his words: he referred to himself as an “adventurer” rather than the more common “adventurer” term used by most. It was a subtle linguistic difference, but among the rough-and-tumble adventurers, it might mean little. Yet this old man was likely a well-educated mage or a transcendent, and the word “adventurer” here probably carried a sense of pride and distinction.

But was there a famous adventurer named Modir in the human world? The young clerk wasn’t sure—her knowledge of the continent was still limited. Just a few weeks ago, she had been hunting seals far away in Tal’ron’d.

The old mage Modir didn’t seem to notice the young clerk behind the window was actually a dragon from Tal’ron’d. Lost in thought, he murmured softly to himself, “Actually, there’s another reason I’m heading to Tal’ron’d… young lady, you might find this strange, but it’s a feeling—a sense as if… fate itself is guiding me. Do you understand?”

“Fate guiding you?” The clerk’s eyes widened in surprise, then she smiled knowingly. “Of course, I don’t find that strange at all. You look like a learned mage, and powerful mages sometimes do sense fate and the future—that’s the power of transcendent beings. But for your fate to lead you to Tal’ron’d… that is indeed curious.”

“No, young lady, the ‘guidance of fate’ I speak of isn’t like that. I can feel it myself—it’s not related to transcendent powers. It comes from deeper within me, pointing toward something I’ve forgotten… as if I had been there before and lost something, and now I must go back to retrieve it.” Modir rambled on, suddenly seeming like a frail old man lost in memories even he couldn’t fully grasp. “There are many things I can’t remember, so many… but sometimes…”

He abruptly stopped, as if waking from a daze, a sheepish expression crossing his face. He looked at the young clerk and chuckled, spreading his hands. “Sorry, that’s what happens when you get old—random bouts of nostalgia. Look at me, babbling on with unnecessary words… don’t mind me.”

The clerk listened carefully to everything he said, showing no impatience. Every interaction with a human was a new and incredible experience for her, and this old mage felt different from the other adventurers who came to register.

She smiled gently and shook her head. “It seems you’ve had an extraordinary life. I sincerely hope you find what you’re looking for in Tal’ron’d.”

She paused, then her smile turned professional. “Now, there’s just one last step—after filling out the form, you’ll need to pay a fee of sixteen fenar. This covers your registration, the cost of your adventurer’s badge, and basic guide services once you arrive in Tal’ron’d. The Dragon Council will cover your round-trip transportation costs, and upon arrival, they’ll provide basic camp facilities and early supplies. As for how you carve out an epic adventure on that land… that depends on your own efforts.”

Modir chuckled, pulling out two crisp bills and a shiny coin from his pocket. As he handed them over, he asked curiously, “I’m a bit surprised—there were so many blank spaces on my form, and yet it was accepted? Is your standard for recruiting adventurers really just a name?”

The girl hesitated, a little embarrassed. She looked down as she took the money, tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Well… there are standards, but they’re quite lenient. After all, this is the early stage of the expedition…”

The young dragon woman felt her cheeks flush. Having grown up in the dragon realm, she wasn’t as thick-skinned as some of her predecessors who often roamed the human world. There were things she simply couldn’t say out loud: Tal’ron’d was desperately short of people. The more adventurers willing to help clear the polluted zones, the better. At this stage, it wasn’t just literate adventurers who could register—even those who couldn’t read but were physically and mentally capable could pass the “screening.”

As for whether such a large influx of unevenly skilled adventurers would cause order problems in Tal’ron’d… the experienced elder dragons didn’t seem worried.

Lost in thought, the girl busied herself without missing a beat. She pulled a thin plate made of mythril alloy from a nearby drawer and expertly etched “Adventurer Modir” and a registration number onto it using a small machine. On the back, she inscribed his profession and a randomly assigned birthplace. It was a simple task, but she was fully absorbed, meticulous with every move, as if she truly enjoyed having something to do.

Though her job was just handing over forms and making badges.

“By the way,” she suddenly looked up, glancing at the form beside her and then at Modir, “you only filled in your profession as Mage/Alchemist, but you didn’t specify your rank. What is your mage level?”

Modir seemed to fall into confusion again. He casually summoned a small orb of magic, making it spin as he frowned. “I don’t remember ever joining any mage guild, nor anyone ever ranking me. I’ve forgotten how I learned many of my spells—I just cast them instinctively…”

“Then… how should I list your rank on your profile?” The clerk looked troubled. “This is important for task assignments. At least a level is needed.”

Modir waved his hand, dismissing the orb, and looked seriously at the young woman. “Very strong.”

The clerk blinked.

“Just put ‘very strong,’” the old mage said earnestly. “I’m sure you don’t really care that much, do you?”

“Well… ‘very strong’ isn’t exactly standard, but I can mark it as pending,” she sighed, twitching the corner of her mouth. She quickly finished the rest of the registration and handed over a small metal badge no longer than a thumb and a palm-sized leather booklet. “This is your adventurer’s badge and handbook. The handbook contains your basic information and some guidelines for living in Tal’ron’d. These two items are your pass—please keep them safe. If you lose them, come here or to the camp management in Tal’ron’d to get replacements.”

“Thank you,” the old mage accepted the items exchanged for sixteen fenar and casually asked, “When and where do I depart?”

“You’ll wait at the harbor. A fleet transporting supplies to Tal’ron’d is currently loading at the docks. One of the ships, the Ice Mary, is a passenger-cargo vessel and will set sail at 10 a.m. tomorrow. Many adventurers leaving at the same time will be on board. You can rest at the Dragon’s Kiss Inn nearby. With your badge and handbook, you’ll get free room and board—valid until one hour before the Ice Mary departs.”

“Punctuality—I like that,” Modir smiled, pocketing his belongings and stepping back. “Well then, goodbye, young lady.”

“Safe travels—and may your adventure leave no regrets.”

…

“So, all I have to do next is mentally connect with this oddly shaped hemisphere and resonate with the runes inside to enter that neural network?”

Amorn stared intently at the new device before him. After studying it for a long moment, he finally spoke to Mylmina, who was busy calibrating the arcane terminal nearby.

The goddess of magic turned from her work with a sigh, glancing at the “nature god.” “What were you thinking about when I was explaining earlier? Such a simple process needs repeated confirmation?”

“I just don’t quite understand how it works… It looks completely different from the ‘immersion pods’ we saw in the advertisements before.”

“Of course it’s different. Didn’t the installers say it was ‘custom-made’? From the overall structure to how the neural cords connect. Otherwise, with our sizes, how big would an immersion pod have to be to fit us inside?”

Amorn considered this, his voice low. “You have a point—but I still want to understand how this thing connects to the arcane terminal…”

He kept staring at the hemisphere—a silver-white magical instrument about two or three meters in diameter. From its apex radiated over a dozen curved metal structures, all inscribed with runes and embedded crystals. Artificial neural cords, resembling a spine, extended from the hemisphere’s base, connecting to the edge of a circular platform. The entire device sat right next to his arcane terminal, linked by a chain of runes.

The device was currently in standby. Inside the hemisphere was quiet, with only the runes and magical energy pulsing slowly, like a steady breath.

This device had just arrived at the Rebellious Courtyard today, along with an identical set and a large arcane terminal—gifts promised by Gawain Cecil to the goddess of magic.

It was said that this device could allow “gods” without mortal neural structures to connect to the neural network, using some kind of psychic pulse direct-link technology… Amon couldn’t quite wrap his head around the strange name. All he knew was that this technology was invented by a mortal named Kamail— which made perfect sense, since Kamail no longer had a physical body and could only interact with magical devices through mental power. In that way, he was somewhat similar to Amon or Mimir.

“If you’re planning to figure out how this thing works before connecting, I can probably just contact High Elf and have it brought back,” Mimir finally finished calibrating her equipment. She glanced over at Amon, who was still struggling with the hemispherical device, and couldn’t help but mutter, “You’re a ‘nature god’ who’s been detached from the mortal world for three thousand years and never even held a magical authority to begin with. Why are you suddenly so eager to study the principles of a magical device? Bored, are you?”

“I just saw how effortlessly you use these things…” Amon replied.

“We’re different. I’m smarter than you,” Mimir said with a casual wave, activating two arcane network terminals and the two hemispherical connectors with a satisfying hum. “So, last check—are you going to connect to this thing or not? If you don’t, I’m going to. And I won’t have time to bring you along later.”

“Connect, connect, connect!” Amon said immediately, extending his mental energy toward the silver hemisphere. He was extremely cautious, as if afraid his immense power might accidentally fry this delicate little gadget. But in the end, the product of mortal ingenuity withstood the divine mental contact. The silver hemisphere’s surface quickly shimmered with a tangible, flowing glow, and a low hum of successful connection resonated from within.

Amon let his mind sink, opening his spirit carefully. This god of vast power reined in his consciousness, imagining himself slipping through that tiny hemisphere into a “refined world.” It felt like passing through a narrow tunnel, where unfamiliar senses—alien yet somehow connected—were reaching out to him.

This was the work of mortal wisdom.

He hesitated for a moment, then chose to trust the connection unconditionally.

The next instant, a world unlike any he had known swung open its gates before him.

As the flickering light and shadow settled, a pleasant voice whispered in his ear:

“User ‘High-Speed Stag’ has entered the neural network pre-connection zone.”

(End of chapter)