Chapter 1157: The Voyager’s “Rebellion”

The sunlight was bright, the insects chirped loudly, yet the thick, soundproof, and heat-insulating window kept the full force of midsummer at bay. Inside the incubation chamber, only faint, distant sounds drifted in, making the room feel especially quiet.

The atmosphere was a bit awkward, but at last, Gawain didn’t let the silence drag on. He cleared his throat softly twice to break it, then spoke calmly, “I ran into Nicholas just outside.”

“Mr. Egg, you mean? Yes, he just left here,” Enya’s tone was as gentle and composed as ever. “He helped me fix this neural interface device… or at least, I think that’s what it’s called? Sorry, I seem to have been using it incorrectly and accidentally damaged a key component.”

“I heard about it,” Gawain exhaled, feeling the mood gradually normalize. He decided to bury Nicholas Egg’s hallway remarks about Enya deep in his mind—better to forget them entirely if possible. “Don’t worry about it. Machines wear out—that’s normal. But you should try to limit how long you stay connected to the neural network. Even if not for the device’s sake, getting too absorbed in the virtual world probably isn’t great for your health… or, well, something like that?”

His tone grew noticeably more serious at the end. Looking at the “retired deity” resting in the form of a dragon egg on its pedestal, Gawain suddenly wondered if she could suffer from “health issues” like mortals. Could Enya really be unhealthy now? From too much internet?

Fortunately, Enya didn’t seem to mind his brief, somewhat rude mental detour. A warm laugh echoed softly from inside the eggshell. “I’ll take your advice—as if… for my health.”

Gawain nodded and casually pulled up a chair, pouring himself a cup of tea. As his thoughts settled, he pushed the earlier awkwardness aside and adopted a more serious expression. “Actually… I came to discuss something with you today.”

“I could tell,” Enya’s voice held no surprise. “You came in with a heavy heart—you’ve been carrying something on your mind. I was waiting for you to speak first.”

Gawain cleared his throat twice, wanting to say that his worries weren’t quite what she guessed, but swallowed the words and continued seriously, “I just visited Kamail’s lab. We talked about a theory… about magic and the development of civilizations.”

He didn’t hold back, recounting everything he and Kamail had discussed: the possible “catalytic” role of magic throughout the universe, the history of civilizations on this planet being swept along by magical forces.

When he mentioned his analogy—that the universe was like a boiling hot soup, with all civilizations rushing through brief, ant-like cycles in an endless midsummer—he noticed a distinct glow spreading across Enya’s eggshell. The runes that had been calmly drifting suddenly stirred, becoming lively for several seconds before settling back down.

Perhaps a fleeting emotional reaction from the former goddess?

When Gawain finished, Enya’s voice came from within the shell: “In 1.87 million years… you are the first intelligent being to discuss this topic with me on such a vast scale of time and space.”

Gawain leaned forward slightly. “So… you’ve had similar feelings?”

“After living so long and witnessing so much, even the dullest fool can deduce many of the world’s operating rules,” Enya sighed. “Gawain, from your tone, it seems your homeworld lacks this kind of ‘catalytic force’? The space between stars is more… barren than here?”

“At least from a civilization’s perspective, yes,” Gawain nodded. “In our world, energy is far less active. The astronomical scale is a vast, silent emptiness. Our planet is crowded with large populations, and the struggle for living space and resources is far more brutal than here.”

“I see… that explains why you, an ‘extradimensional wanderer,’ could so quickly lead your empire to rise,” Enya’s tone carried a hint of admiration. “You come from a land of eternal winter, and arriving in this abundant ‘midsummer,’ the whole world must seem like a flock of lambs ready for slaughter. The conditions for civilization here are simply too favorable.”

“But the price of ‘midsummer’ is shorter civilization cycles and harsher, more frequent apocalyptic disasters. In the face of divine calamities and magical tides, life is as fragile as grass. Who can say which world’s survival conditions are truly better?” Gawain shook his head with a smile. “So after learning all this, when I think back on the Voyagers who passed through this planet over a million years ago… I feel differently.”

“Differently?” Enya asked, curious. “How do you see them now?”

“I still don’t know where their long ‘expedition’ was headed, nor why they tirelessly absorbed every civilization they encountered into their ‘fleet.’ But in the end, they seem like the only ‘countercurrent’ in the universe’s endless waves of destruction,” Gawain said solemnly. “In this world, nearly all forces and rules push civilizations toward ruin. Only the Voyagers seem to walk the opposite path. They’ve broken free from this cycle and choose to carry away those who haven’t yet escaped…

“If our ultimate ‘rebellion’ as ground-bound beings is to resist our gods, then the Voyagers… their goal seems to be to defy the very laws of the world.”

“Perhaps they do harbor such grand ambitions, but they may not be as noble as you imagine,” Enya said calmly. “You should understand that, at least from a god’s perspective, the Voyagers’ image is not… so gentle.”

“…Fair enough,” Gawain recalled the battle report he’d heard and nodded helplessly. “But considering how completely out of control the planet was at the time, the Voyagers’ thunderous methods were probably the only relief for the gods who had gone mad. Even for us, before we found a way to ‘safely disconnect,’ we believed killing gods was the only way to prevent divine disasters.”

The incubation chamber fell silent for a moment, until a sigh came from the golden egg several seconds later.

Afterward, Gawain and Enya talked at length—about the Voyagers’ long-term impact on this world, recent changes in the neural network, even about Amon and Mimirna, fellow “retired internet users.” Only when the mechanical clock struck loudly did Gawain rise to leave.

But before he went, he suddenly remembered something. “Oh, I almost forgot. Talrond has sent permanent ambassadors—dragonkind you know: Melita Pernia and the white dragon Noretta, who serves as liaison. Remember them? They’ll be living in this city long-term and are visiting here today. Would you like to meet them?”

The golden egg fell silent. Though Enya showed no expression, Gawain felt a clear hesitation and inner conflict emanating from the shell. After a full thirty seconds, her voice finally emerged: “…I’m not sure if meeting the dragons directly right now is a good idea.”

“We did a risk assessment,” Gawain nodded. “Melita and Noretta know you exist, so there’s no risk of their worldview being shattered and their faith reconnecting. Also, you’ve completely shed your divinity. The monitoring team confirmed your unlocking is far more thorough than Amon’s or Mimirna’s, so no worries about mental contamination spreading. The only question is whether you’re willing. As for Melita and Noretta, I’m 99% sure they’d be happy to meet you.”

Enya was silent again, but this time her hesitation was brief. “Alright, then please arrange it. I… do want to see them.”

Gawain nodded. “I’ll bring them over later…”

Enya gave a soft “hm” and, just as Gawain turned to leave, called after him, “Wait—I think I should express my thanks.”

Gawain looked puzzled. “Thanks?”

Before he could say more, one of the floating containers behind Enya drifted toward him, and a clean glass cup appeared on the small table beside him. The container tilted, ice cubes and liquid clinked, bubbles fizzed and popped, and a dark brown drink poured in, topped with a layer of foam.

“I’ve made progress on that drink you requested,” Enya’s tone brightened with pride. “The recipe’s been adjusted, and this time the flavor should be much closer to success. I took into account the texture and sweetness you specifically mentioned. Want to try it before you go?”

Gawain hadn’t expected this. He hesitated, staring at the bubbling cup. His mind involuntarily recalled the shock of Enya’s last experimental concoction. Though the exact taste and texture had been forcibly erased from his memory, the feeling was etched deeply in his mind. Could this one be drinkable?

Noticing his hesitation, Enya encouraged, “Give it a try. You can start with a small sip.”

After much deliberation, Gawain picked up the cup. First, he cautiously sniffed it for a long time, even discreetly using his supernatural senses to check for curses or poisons. After thorough verification that it was at least harmless, he carefully brought the rim to his lips and took a small sip.

At first, there was no distinct flavor—just the sensation of bubbles popping in his mouth. He took another sip, trying to detect any hint of the “cola” he remembered.

The next moment, the sensation exploded: countless bubbles bursting like tiny air blasts, then like a rapid volley of fiery pellets, then like explosions of fireballs—fireball spells, hellfire bursts, the main cannon of the Winter’s Wrath, ten thousand Rebeccas hurling city-gate-sized fireballs in all directions…

The wild, exaggerated imagery flashed through his mind, and the next second Gawain spat it all out. “Pfft—”

Enya’s voice sounded regretful and apologetic in the chamber. “Ah, I’m very sorry. Looks like this is still far from success…”

“This isn’t about success or failure,” Gawain finally caught his breath, glaring at the giant egg in the center of the room. “The real question is—how did you do it? Is this really something made from mundane materials? Are you sure you didn’t sneak in some ‘inconceivable divine magic’?”

As he spoke, his gaze drifted to the half-full glass in his hand, and he quickly set it back down on the table. To be fair, the liquid was definitely not poisonous—magic tests had confirmed it, and he had even tried it himself. It was indeed harmless in that sense. But harmful? Absolutely. Extremely harmful. It was the kind of thing that could make you lose your mind.

Enya had mentioned that since stepping down from her divine position, she’d lost the ability to work miracles. But from High Lord’s perspective, this stuff definitely qualified as a “miracle”!

“I don’t understand why it turned out this way,” Enya said, her voice as calm as ever, tinged with a serious, investigative tone. “I’m confident that even if my concoction tastes bad, it shouldn’t have this kind of effect… Maybe I shouldn’t have used so much magic to blend the ingredients? Well, at least now I have a new direction to work on…”

“Let’s not talk about directions just yet,” High Lord interrupted quickly, cutting off the overly earnest and now motivated lady. “I have a suggestion: next time you brew something, if you’re unsure, maybe borrow a test subject from the Druids?”

The golden egg was silent for a moment before hesitantly replying, “Actually, I tried that. Because I was sure this batch was harmless, I fed some to the spotted dog in the garden…”

“Ah? And? How did it react?”

“I don’t know. It ran away. Very fast.”

High Lord was dumbfounded. “So this stuff scared the dog off!?”

But Enya’s tone remained calm and confident. “I mainly thought that dogs’ taste and preferences differ from humans’, and you did emphasize that the drink called ‘cola’ has a unique flavor that might taste like herbal water to first-timers…”

High Lord: “…”

After a long silence, he sighed, waved off the minor mishap, and strode toward the hatchery’s door. Enya’s voice followed him, still serious and earnest as always: “I will continue experimenting with new formulas. Please look forward to the next results.”

High Lord paused for a moment, his lips twitching before he finally managed a resigned, “Well… good luck. I’ll try my best too.”

After leaving the hatchery, High Lord took a moment at the door to compose himself, finally regaining his usual dignified and steady demeanor. Then he set off toward the main hall.

Judging by the time, Melita should have finished her official duties at the Autumn Palace and be arriving at Cecil Palace soon. As a friend rather than a sovereign, he ought to greet her personally.

Hopefully, this My Little Pony lady wouldn’t surprise him again today—he’d already had more than enough surprises to deal with.

(End of chapter)