Chapter 1138: Like Fireflies Rising and Falling

Listening to Enya’s soft sigh, Highlord knew that every word the dragon goddess spoke came straight from her heart. A smile spread across his face as he gently nodded. “On behalf of Belsatya, I thank you for your blessings. But these matters no longer concern you much. Let them find their own way.”

“That’s true. After all, I’m ‘retired’ now,” came a light laugh from the golden egg, tinged with relief. “It’s rare to have some peace and quiet. It’s better not to keep worrying about so many things.”

Highlord’s gaze swept over the new furnishings in the room. His eyes rested on the dormant arcane network terminal and the neural interface device. Faint glimmers still lingered on the rune plates and crystal structures, subtle magical fluctuations pulsing from deep within the apparatus—signs of long hours of operation. He couldn’t help but ask, “Looks like you quite like our neural network?”

“The dragons once created the Omega Network—vast in scale and complex in structure,” Enya replied softly. “But even Omega began as a crude prototype. Your neural network reminds me of Omega’s earliest days… raw, primitive, imperfect, yet growing rapidly every moment. It’s as if it embodies the vibrant life force of an entire civilization… Yes, I do like your neural network.”

“If the dragons knew that the gods they once revered actually enjoy ‘surfing the net,’ I wonder how surprised they’d be,” Highlord chuckled. “After all, this is a thoroughly ‘technological’ creation.”

“As you’ve come to understand, a god’s instincts and nature don’t always align,” Enya said, golden runes slowly swirling across her shell again. “Even Heragor doesn’t know this, but all these years I’ve secretly wanted to try their Omega Network—to browse like an ordinary dragon, jot down my thoughts, chat normally with the children… I’ve always wanted to, but I couldn’t.”

“Now you have the chance—though our neural network may not seem as advanced as Omega to you,” Highlord nodded. “It’s growing fast. Our next step is to deploy it across the entire continent of Loren. And if we succeed in establishing communication with the continent of Tal’Rond, its nodes will surely extend there as well. Then dragons will become users too, and you’ll finally be able to fulfill your long-held wish.”

A note of joy came from the golden egg. “I eagerly await that day. If you ever need my help, just say the word.”

Highlord smiled and pulled over a chair to sit beside her. Suddenly curious, he looked at the golden egg and asked, “By the way, when you first used our neural network, did you come across any interesting people or things?”

He didn’t really need to ask Enya face-to-face—monitoring teams at the computing center had been tracking the data flows of the three ‘special users’ in the network. He could have easily learned what the three retired gods did online from Yuri, Wendy, or Selina. But that would take the fun out of it. A direct conversation was far more enjoyable.

If time permitted, he also wanted to ask Amorn and Mirmyna about their online experiences.

“For the most part, I wandered through that Dream City, and on the way, I visited the Watcher’s Hill outside the city to see the little spider girl who was resting. I didn’t interact with many people,” Enya recalled slowly. “That little girl was quite interesting. When she learned that my real-world form was an egg, she seemed very concerned about how I could run. She even has a strange theory about judging running speed by the number of legs… but in the end, I couldn’t quite understand it.”

“I also toured the ‘Pyramid’ at the center of Dream City. A network immortal named Selina Gelph received me, but she seemed very nervous about my presence… I guess she might be one of the ‘insiders’ behind your ‘project’? Ah, no, I don’t mind—that’s a proper arrangement.”

“As for other interesting experiences…” Enya paused, as if pondering, then smiled and continued, “In a news report about Tal’Rond, I actually saw a comment vaguely related to me. The commenter seemed to know the secret behind the Tal’Rond war and had some understanding of my existence… I suspect they might be a member of the Theocracy Council? A researcher? Or an archivist?”

“Really?” Highlord’s expression, previously calm, suddenly furrowed. “What’s the commenter’s name?”

“High-Speed Stag,” Enya said casually. “A very peculiar name. It left a strong impression on me.”

Highlord was speechless.

“What’s wrong? You know who that is?”

“No, I’m not sure,” Highlord’s lips twitched as dozens of thoughts raced through his mind. He quickly pieced together some possibilities behind the name—after all, across the whole world, only one being could be linked to that title. “But I have a pretty good guess. If I’m right, I might even introduce you to him sometime. He is indeed a member of the Theocracy Council. Though, come to think of it, I never imagined that old stag’s heart could be so restless…”

Enya didn’t quite catch the meaning behind Highlord’s muttering, but from his attitude, she sensed something. Although Amorn and Mirmyna’s existence was still somewhat secret to the public, within the Theocracy Council, related information had long been circulated. As one of the council’s new technical advisors—mainly serving as a research subject—she had certain privileges to access those records.

Perhaps sparked by the topic, Highlord suddenly asked with curiosity, “By the way, what name did you choose for yourself in the neural network?”

The golden egg’s voice came promptly: “Tea Egg.”

The incubation chamber fell silent. After a long pause, Highlord finally broke the quiet. “…Huh?”

“Tea Egg,” Enya repeated seriously. “I remember you mentioned this name once. I hope I spelled it right?”

“Are you serious?” Highlord’s eyes widened, and the muscles in his face twitched involuntarily. He never expected a joke he made long ago to be taken so earnestly by a dragon goddess. For a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. “I mean… you actually took that as your…”

“Is there something wrong with the name?” Enya looked puzzled by his reaction. “When I created it, I didn’t receive any system warnings. It shouldn’t be a banned word, right?”

“It’s not about banned words,” Highlord awkwardly scratched his chin. “It’s just that the name doesn’t quite fit your aura. I thought you’d pick something more elegant and noble… After all, you were once a dragon goddess.”

“I based it on the naming habits of dragons in the Omega Network. This kind of free-form naming suits the anonymous atmosphere of the network better,” Enya said seriously. “Besides, I wanted to make my personality a bit livelier this way—I’ve wanted to try this for a very long time.”

Highlord blinked, feeling like he’d finally glimpsed a hidden, more genuine side of the dragon goddess. But the awkward atmosphere made him clear his throat and rub his nose. “If you want to be less serious, the first step is not to sound so deadpan when talking about this kind of thing.”

“Am I that serious? Sorry, I hadn’t noticed,” Enya said earnestly. “Got it. I’ll try to adjust—great, now I have another goal to work on.”

Are you sure you don’t have too many goals lately? Highlord thought to himself but wisely kept the thought to himself. He had a rough idea of her personality now and feared that any casual remark might send her off on yet another “goal” for her future life. There were already enough of those.

“Ahem,” he coughed twice, deciding to steer the conversation away from this awkward path. “Enough small talk. Actually, I came to you today on official business.”

“Official business?” Enya’s tone held curiosity. “What do you mean?”

Highlord composed himself, organizing his thoughts and returning to a serious demeanor before breaking the silence. “There’s something you probably already know. We have a long-term ‘listening’ project aimed at tracking a mysterious signal of unknown origin…”

“I know,” Enya said immediately. Whether it was just his imagination or not, her tone carried a certain wistfulness, as if she had been waiting for this topic for a long time. “I learned about it even before the Tal’Rond war broke out—Melita was the first to bring the news back to Tal’Rond.”

“Melita?” Highlord was momentarily surprised but quickly recalled. “Ah, yes. After the signal’s existence was first confirmed, I sought verification from various parties, including Tal’Rond… but the dragons gave no response at the time.”

“They wanted to respond,” Enya said calmly, “but I stopped them.”

“You stopped them?” Highlord’s expression turned serious, his gaze fixed on the golden shell. “Why?”

“Because the dragons were still under a dangerous blockade and approaching a critical moment of fate. I had to prevent them from paying too much attention to the stars or sharing knowledge about the cosmos with outsiders—otherwise, I might have lost control prematurely.”

“About the stars…” Highlord blinked, a strange yet expected feeling rising from deep within. He took a slow breath. “So the signal really comes from the stars? Who sent it? How far is it from our planet? How much do you know about the sender?”

“You’re asking too many questions at once,” Enya said calmly, her gentle, serene voice quickly soothing his excitement. “I may know a bit more about the cosmos than you do, but I’m far from all-knowing. So you’d better lower your expectations before we proceed.”

“First, regarding your first question—the signal’s source… yes, as you guessed, it comes from the stars, from a planet unimaginably distant to mortals now, but not so far on a cosmic scale.”

“But I don’t know any more details about that planet or the sender than you do.”

“You don’t know?” Highlord instinctively frowned. “As the most powerful god on this planet, you can’t see it?”

“Precisely because I am a god of this planet, my gaze cannot stray too far from it,” Enya said with a smile. “This is the greatest limitation of gods you must understand. I believe you’ve studied this to some extent, but you tend to subconsciously overlook it—though gods are powerful, their strength is confined to their own domains. The more concrete and intense mortals’ imaginations of gods become, the more defined and restrictive those domains are.”

“Until I fall, the Dragonkind have never set foot beyond this planet. So my gaze has always been confined here, no matter how well I understand everything on this world, I cannot peer beyond it… In this way, I am much like that colossal ‘Sohrin Great Tree’—our vision is bound within a certain domain.

“That’s precisely why a mortal’s ‘step beyond the planet’ shakes the gods so profoundly. You must grasp from first principles why this is so.”

“Divine power can only flourish within its own realm…” High Val pondered aloud. “That’s a crucial insight—I’ve made a note of it. Now, back to that signal: you know nothing about its origin or sender… but beyond that, what else do you know? Is there anything more you can tell us?”

“Though I cannot see what happens on other worlds, I have witnessed the Voyagers’ expeditions and lived through the era when the ‘Sky’s Gate’ was open,” Enya replied. “As for you, Wanderer from Beyond the Stars, you yourself come from the cosmos. So we all understand one thing clearly: this universe is not silent and lifeless. The beings on this planet are by no means the only sentient voices in the starry expanse. It is perfectly natural for other intelligent signals to emerge in the cosmos besides ours.

“And such occurrences, naturally, do not happen just once.

“Before the signal you received, just within my memory, this planet has intercepted no fewer than a hundred ‘voices’ from the universe. These signals, weaving through the darkness like fishing lanterns suddenly flickering in a boundless night, reveal that the starry sky is far from the cold emptiness it appears to be. Beneath the shelter of countless stars dwell many intelligent beings—like you, capable of thought, observation, and gazing into the heavens. A significant number have reached very advanced levels, at least enough to know how to send their ‘greetings’ beyond their own ground and across the vastness of space.”

“No fewer than… a hundred times?!” High Val’s eyes widened in astonishment. “This planet has received so many alien signals?”

“They were not deliberately received—most of these signals are aimless broadcasts, ripples spreading through the cosmos. Some just ‘passed by’ here. And my memory spans millions of years; over such an immense stretch of time, hearing a few greetings is hardly surprising.”

High Val drew a slow breath, hesitating before asking, “And… what happened to those signals afterward?”

“The vast majority faded away, flickering like fireflies in the night.”

(End of chapter)