Chapter 1137: An Unexpected Exchange Between Gods
By the time Amon realized it, he had already been standing in front of that rapidly refreshing, ever-changing interface for quite a while. Countless streams of information kept flowing relentlessly—major events from all corners of the realm scrolling past his eyes under the automatic update system. It wasn’t until he discovered that with a mere thought, he could pause the flow or scroll back through the history of these updates at will that he truly grasped the interface’s power.
For the next stretch of time, he immersed himself in browsing the news and exploring various public discussion boards, delighting in the novelty of it all.
Pompeii, north of the Rock Fortress, was building a new rune factory. Rehabilitated families in the Solin region welcomed their first healthy baby of the summer. Construction had begun on a direct railway to the Holy Dragon Principality. Majestic snowy vistas blanketed the northern mountains, while golden waves of wheat rippled across the southern summer afternoons.
On a “board” directly managed by the Imperial Administration Office, Amon spotted a real-time updating map of the entire Cecil Empire. It displayed the weather changes across the vast land—wind, frost, rain, snow, cold and warmth—represented by a living palette of colors and icons that ebbed and flowed on the screen. In one corner, a line of text read:
“Data calculated and streamed in real-time by the Servo-Brain. Technical trial phase; demonstration for reference only.”
Amon didn’t know what a “Servo-Brain” was, but within the shifting patterns, he felt an indescribable vitality—something transcending individual existence and the present moment. He pondered long and hard before realizing this vitality came from every individual connected to the network, from the entirety of mortal civilization as it stood today. In all the years he remembered, mortal civilization had never thrived with such vigor—pulsing like a powerful, beating heart.
“Wonderful… truly wonderful…”
The former god of nature couldn’t help but murmur in admiration, a smile spreading across his face. To be fair, what he was seeing now wasn’t much for a once-divine being: back when he could still hear the prayers of his followers, countless elves and some human devotees had poured their minds and faith into him. By reading those streams of devotion, Amon could always grasp the changes across the Silver Empire and even parts of the human realms, especially those concerning the natural world. Though the form was different, the content was much the same as the information flowing through this neural network.
Yet this was precisely what moved—and even shocked—him the most. He had once wielded such power by divine right. Now, mortals were achieving nearly the same feats through their own wisdom. And that divine “authority” that once belonged to gods—who now wielded it?
Anyone could—so long as they could afford the immersion pods. In today’s Cecil, the cost of such devices was plummeting at an astonishing rate. In some regions, the Administration Office even allocated substantial funds to subsidize the populace, pushing these “infrastructures” to spread through society as quickly as possible.
As these complex thoughts churned in his mind, Amon’s attention drifted back to the ceaselessly updating news. The sensation of connecting to the neural network was entirely different from watching a magical broadcast; this strange immersion and immediacy captivated him endlessly. Then, a sudden new message caught his eye:
“The Alliance fleet bound for Talrond has set sail today from the Empire’s northern port. Fleet Admiral Byron Kirk personally commands the powerful arcane flagship ‘Winter’s Wrath’ on escort duty. This fleet carries the first batch of aid supplies and support teams to the Dragon Kingdom. His Imperial Majesty Gawain Cecil and the allied nations of Loren send their blessings—may the banner of the Alliance forever shine upon our allies…”
Beneath this message, an expandable section revealed a wealth of related information. Much of it, clearly authored by official imperial scholars, introduced the public to basic knowledge about Talrond—the “dragons,” once thought mere legend but now known to be a real race. The rest explained the composition of the allied nations, the arcane mechanical ships, and the basics of deep-sea navigation.
Clearly, the goal was to “eradicate ignorance.” The scholars had done their utmost to present foundational world knowledge in accessible language—knowledge that, in earlier times, would have been the exclusive privilege of the upper classes.
But what truly held Amon’s focus was Talrond itself. He stared long at the image accompanying the news: a grand steel warship slowly departing the distant northern dock amid cheering crowds. Beyond it, the entire fleet was already at sea, bathed in clear sunlight. The ocean, once shrouded by the eternal storm’s cloud wall, now stretched open and boundless.
As the elves’ former chief deity, Amon knew little of what had transpired in Talrond. Yet as a god, he had long sensed the presence of the Dragon God through ripples rising from the world’s deep ocean. That vast, ancient, chaotic, and twisted being stood like a brilliant lighthouse in the dark abyss. Though trapped in Talrond, the ripples it sent out covered the entire world and were perceived by all gods.
The gods could not communicate directly, but through the deep-sea resonance, they confirmed each other’s existence. In all of Amon’s memories, since his birth, the Dragon God’s majestic radiance had been as eternal and unignorable as the natural order itself.
Now, that oldest flame had finally been extinguished.
Amon felt a pang of emotion. Though he had already learned of Talrond’s fate and the fall of the ancient deity from the Alliance meeting’s live broadcast, he hadn’t dwelled on it until now. Seeing the aid fleet set sail made him suddenly aware of the changes this world faced after a god’s demise—and it brought to mind the Silver Empire’s turbulent three millennia.
He lingered on the message for a long time before recalling something. Tentatively, he opened the comment section beneath the news. Despite the neural network’s early stage, the comments were surprisingly numerous, showing how much attention the northern fleet had drawn. Scanning through, he saw most messages wished the fleet safe passage or hoped Talrond would soon recover. Many asked questions about dragons and the northern continent.
Almost no one mentioned the fallen god. For the mortals of Loren, foreign deities of alien races were likely of little concern—or perhaps they simply didn’t know the Dragon God existed.
Amon hesitated, wondering if what he was about to do might be taboo. But Mylmina’s parting words echoed in his mind, and knowing his actions were likely monitored, he felt reassured. He carefully typed a message at the bottom of the thread:
“To the guardian of Talrond, may your journey be peaceful. You did your best—and that was enough.”
Watching his thoughts transform into text on the screen, Amon felt a strange new sensation and muttered to himself. He hadn’t mentioned the Dragon God’s name or included any religious hints—surely that wouldn’t attract the attention of the “very troublesome” network administrator Mylmina had warned him about?
He waited a few seconds, but no eight-legged white spider or lantern-carrying old man appeared to give him trouble. Relaxing, he shook his head with a wry smile and prepared to exit the cluster of interfaces, planning to explore other parts of this dream city. He’d already spent too long in this plaza.
Just as he was about to leave, a synthesized voice suddenly echoed in his mind, halting him: “A user has just replied to your comment. Would you like to view it?”
Startled, Amon instinctively accepted. A new interface appeared, formatted like a message board. A user named “Tea Egg” had sent him a single-word reply: “Thanks.”
Amon stared at the cryptic message in surprise. He didn’t understand what in his words warranted thanks, so he asked aloud, “Why thank me?”
At the same time, his attention lingered on the strange name—“Tea Egg”? What was that? It sounded like a clumsy combination of words, some kind of food? Or a method of food preparation?
The former god of nature was puzzled but at least realized that this incredible neural network hosted many users with odd names. If “Tea Egg” could be a legitimate username, then “High-Speed Public Deer” might not be so outlandish after all.
Relaxing his brow, Amon noticed “Tea Egg” hadn’t sent any further messages. His question seemed to have sunk into silence.
Probably logged off… After all, not everyone had the luxury of idling in a courtyard all day like him or Mylmina. The other users in the neural network were busy in the real world.
Feeling he’d found his answer, Amon closed the communication window with a hint of regret. As all interfaces vanished, the plaza with its towering oak tree reappeared in his vision.
Mylmina still hadn’t returned and likely wouldn’t. The girl named Patty had already left the bench by the bushes. Seeing this, Amon shook his head, turned away from the tall pillars, and wandered off in a random direction.
This vast city demanded careful exploration. He had no intention of teleporting around like Mylmina—that would be disrespectful to the mortals who had built it. Besides, she hadn’t taught him how to use the teleportation functions of the Dream City…
Deep within Cecil Palace, in a brightly lit incubation chamber, a specially designed arcane network device operated steadily. It consisted mainly of an indoor arcane terminal and a connected hemispherical apparatus less than a meter in diameter. Above the terminal, a projection displayed the words “Neural Network Connecting.” The runes on the hemisphere pulsed gently, like breathing. From deep within the two devices, the hum of rune plates and neural connectors sounded pleasantly melodic.
Not far from the two devices, resting quietly on a pedestal in the center of the room, stood a pale golden dragon egg. Runes slowly drifted across its surface, faintly resonating on a magical level with the neural interface device beside it.
This resonance continued for an indeterminate length of time, until the steady hum finally faded away. The runes on the golden egg’s surface then severed their connection with the neural interface. Just then, Betty, who had been dozing nearby, woke up. The maid rubbed her slightly sleepy eyes and said, “Ah, Lady Enya! You’re awake?”
“I wasn’t sleeping,” came Enya’s voice from within the golden egg. “I was just browsing through the contents of the neural network… It’s quite a fascinating thing.”
No sooner had she spoken than the hatch’s door was pushed open from outside. Highwind stepped in, casually remarking, “Getting a single word of ‘interesting’ from you is quite the compliment for an immature neural network. The node scholars and mage technicians who burn the midnight oil should be pleased.”
Betty immediately stepped forward, smiling brightly as she greeted Highwind with a bow. Then, lowering her head, she added, “Ah, you asked me to check on Lady Enya’s condition, but I accidentally fell asleep…”
Highwind ruffled Betty’s hair lightly, telling her to go rest. Enya’s voice carried a hint of amusement as she said, “Just got back from Solin Fortress?”
“Been back for a little while,” Highwind replied, strolling over to Enya.
“And what about that little elven queen?” Enya asked with curiosity. “Did she come back with you, or did she return straight to her elven realm?”
“She went back to handle some important matters, but she’ll be coming back soon,” Highwind said.
“Is that so… It’s no short journey from here to the Silver Empire. For an empire’s ruler to cross the continent twice in such a short time, whatever she’s doing must be truly important.”
“Yeah, she’s going to draw the final curtain on the elves’ mythic age…” Highwind said, then suddenly grew curious. “What made you start paying attention to her? Have you developed an interest in the elves?”
“No,” Enya replied softly. “I just saw a faint trace of Heragor in her—just a little. They’re all facing the end of the mythic age, but each has a different fate… I hope they all succeed.”
(End of chapter)