Chapter 1195: The Nameless One

Hragor—the ruler of Talrond, the dragon continent. It is said that among the dragons, there are three leaders, each presiding over knowledge, technology, and authority. The dragon of knowledge is the wise Andal; the dragon of technology is currently absent from Talrond; and the dragon of authority is the formidable Hragor. Once a servant of the Dragon God, he boldly raised the banner of rebellion as an ancient dragon, and among the three primordial dragons, he is the foremost.

Even though Talrond has long since declined, and dragons now rely on the aid of alliances just to survive this harsh winter, the mighty and awe-inspiring ancient dragons remain among the highest beings above all mortal realms. So when Modir heard Hragor introduce himself, he couldn’t help but freeze for a moment. After a few seconds, he finally spoke, “Ah—well, that’s certainly unexpected.”

He shook his head. “They told me a camp commander wanted to see me. I never imagined it would be someone of your stature…”

“Please forgive me. I prefer not to draw too much attention—adventurers have only just begun to adapt to life in Talrond, and as you know, they’re very skilled at… spinning endless fantastic tales from limited facts,” Hragor said with a wry shake of his head. Then he gestured to a chair opposite him. “Please, have a seat, Mr. Modir. You can relax.”

Modir eyed the dragon leader suspiciously, then glanced at the chair before slowly sitting down, his brow furrowing ever so slightly. “So, can we get to the point? How does a leader like you find time to personally seek out an ordinary adventurer like me? And please don’t tell me you actually believe that story about me knocking the Fire Elemental Prince into the lava river with a single punch…”

“An ordinary adventurer?” Hragor raised an eyebrow as Modir settled in. “Is that really how you see yourself? Are you truly just an ‘ordinary adventurer’?”

“What else?” Modir gestured to himself. “I think calling myself an ‘adventurer’ is already pretty accurate. I’m not like the average adventurer, though.”

Hragor said nothing for a moment, quietly studying the old mage as if trying to discern some hidden truth within this human. His gaze bore a penetrating clarity, a power to see beyond the surface. Even without divine blessings, this former demigod could perceive things ordinary mortals could not. After several seconds, he finally withdrew his gaze and furrowed his brow.

“I’ve heard you’ve lost some memories, Mr. Modir,” the former Dragon Priest chose his words carefully. “You don’t know your origins, nor how many years you’ve spent adventuring outside. You don’t even recall your early travels, is that correct?”

“Strictly speaking, it’s more than just memory loss,” Modir considered. He didn’t think a ruler like Hragor would have any reason to harm him, and he had never hidden this from others, so he answered frankly. “My memories are often fragmented, confused, and sometimes they even regress or repeat. Occasionally, things that shouldn’t be connected to me pop up in my mind—I truly don’t remember where my adventures began, nor my parents, relatives, friends, family, or hometown… I remember nothing.

“Sometimes, I recall fragments of travels in certain places—I can clearly remember crossroads, houses, even the names of locals. But when I try to find those places, everything is different from what I remember, as if those memories were filtered through a dream. Sometimes I wake up in strange places, with no idea how I got there. People tell me about things I supposedly did recently, but it sounds like they’re describing a stranger…

“I think I might be cursed—something on a spiritual or soul level. Probably related to one of my adventures. Maybe I disturbed some ancient relic I shouldn’t have, or angered ghosts lingering in tombs? I’ve tried to solve this by seeking out the ruins I once explored, hoping to lift the curse, but it’s not easy. I don’t even know where I’ve been, so how can I trace the curse’s origin?”

Modir shrugged, signaling the end of his explanation. Hragor nodded thoughtfully and said casually, “That sounds difficult, Mr. Modir. Your plight is truly unfortunate.”

“I don’t really need pity—though many react that way when they hear my story,” Modir said with surprising calm. “I used to be anxious and angry, but after countless years, I’ve come to accept it. Compared to the forgotten past, there are still so many unknown wonders in this world waiting to be explored. The changes in this era alone are exciting enough. I’m grateful that, no matter how much I’ve lost, my strength and much of my knowledge remain. That’s enough for an adventurer to survive tough times—and nothing satisfies an adventurer more than that…”

His optimism bordered on unreasonable, a carefree attitude ordinary people couldn’t understand. Hragor wasn’t sure if this was the old mage’s genuine feeling or a resigned enlightenment born from years of hardship. He frowned, pondering deeply. His hesitation didn’t escape Modir’s notice, and the old mage looked up at the dragon leader. “Honorable Hragor—I can tell your interest in me goes beyond a lost adventurer causing a stir among the ranks. Please, be straightforward. What is it you want from me?”

“At first, when we learned a legendary warrior had somehow ended up in the adventurer camp, we were merely surprised and curious. The reconstruction of Talrond keeps me busy, so it wasn’t worth my full attention. But soon, I heard your name… your formidable power, your adventurer status, the name Modir—all these together reminded me of something that happened not long before the ‘Great Final Battle.’” Hragor exhaled softly as he spoke, then beckoned to the side. Pages of a book floated down from a nearby shelf, landing on the table between them.

“A dragon on a mission in the Loren continent brought back some intelligence. She mentioned a name and an incredible travelogue—oh, this isn’t the original, which isn’t in Talrond. This is a fragment I transcribed from memory based on the initial report. The content should be identical to the original. Take a look—see if it stirs any memories.”

Modir watched the pages settle before him. His eyes twitched involuntarily, a surge of extraordinary intuition flooding his heart. After years of searching, something he’d long sought was finally here, on this newly unveiled land. Though he had thought himself prepared, his first instinct was to recoil, to avoid confronting it.

But he quickly suppressed the impulse. With a wave of his hand, the pages hovered before him, and his gaze slowly scanned the words.

“…Day X of Month X. Said farewell to friends, prepared to set out again. Affairs at home arranged. Plans range from ‘returning safely soon’ to ‘dying out there’—all contingencies covered. Saint Suniel has been informed…

“My children seem displeased with my new adventure plan…

“…The experience in the Shadow Realm must not be repeated. This time, I must prepare properly—find a reliable companion. I must clearly acknowledge that I am a fragile mage; charging into battle is not for me…”

Line after line, familiar yet strange names and events flickered like light on water, stirring Modir’s shattered, chaotic memories. His expression shifted repeatedly as he took a long time to finish the few pages. Then, after a pause of several seconds, he hesitantly broke the silence.

“This… this is someone’s adventure record, isn’t it?”

“Do you have no recollection at all?” Hragor leaned forward, earnest. “Nothing comes to mind after reading it?”

“Well, it seems as I suspected… this is a record I left behind? A travelogue I wrote?” Modir read the dragon’s attitude and guessed the answer, but his face only grew more confused. “But I have no memory of it. None at all… family, friends, companions… I even had children? I really had all that?”

The old mage muttered to himself, his eyes flickering between clarity and confusion. Before he could sink fully into chaos, Hragor’s voice cut through, the magic in his draconic tongue snapping Modir back to focus.

“Mr. Modir, please stay focused. We’re only discussing a travelogue. Your mind must remain anchored here.”

“Oh, yes, focus, focus,” Modir jolted awake, his gaze oddly scanning the pages now resting on the table. “I really don’t remember any of this. Leader, do you know the full name of the person who left this travelogue?”

“Modir Wilde,” Hragor nodded. “Does the surname ring any bells?”

“Wilde… Wilde?” Modir frowned, repeating the unique human surname softly. “I don’t remember having that name, but it feels familiar. Wilde… Wait! I know it! I’ve heard of it! The ruling family of northern Ansu—the Duke Wilde—ah?”

Suddenly, Modir froze. He finally recalled where he’d heard the name before, but as it connected to himself, a wave of profound confusion surged from his core, overwhelming his mind. He pointed at himself, disbelief written all over his face, clearly unable to accept the implication.

What he couldn’t imagine was that the name Modir Wilde had vanished from this world for six hundred years.

Hragor cleared his throat softly and chose his words carefully. “Mr. Modir, this is only a clue. We should—”

He stopped mid-sentence.

Before him, Modir sat motionless, his hand still raised, pointing at himself. His expression was blank, utterly stunned.

Heragor narrowed his eyes at the old mage, then quickly snapped back to focus. He traced faint golden runes in the air, preparing to take emergency measures to protect the soul and reset the mind. But before he could act, Modir suddenly regained full clarity on his own. The old mage blinked, as if the earlier strange episode had been nothing but an illusion. He glanced around, then at Heragor, puzzled for a moment before uncertainly asking, “Where were we just now? Chief, did you want to show me something?”

“…No, we’ve already seen it, but it led nowhere. Forget it,” Heragor said without changing expression. With a wave of his hand, the few pages on the table instantly turned to dust and scattered into the air. “Thank you for being willing to discuss these matters with me. Let’s end here for today—you need to rest.”

“Huh? It’s over already?” Modir looked baffled, scratching his head instinctively. “I could’ve sworn we were just getting started, and about to get to the really important part…”

The old mage muttered to himself, then abruptly stopped. He seemed to realize something and looked at Heragor with a strange expression. “Was I… not myself just now?”

“…A bit unsettling,” Heragor nodded. In the presence of a legendary mage like Modir, many things beyond the ordinary were immediately apparent. “For your own health, I don’t think we should continue this conversation.”

“…I understand,” Modir exhaled softly, a complicated smile crossing his face. Slowly, he stood and prepared to leave. “Looks like I’ll have to go ‘rest’ then.”

Heragor nodded, watching him rise. But just as the old mage headed for the door, Heragor broke the silence. “Modir.”

Modir paused and turned back. “Yes? Is there something else?”

“You’re searching for something important you lost on this land, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” Modir nodded. “I tell everyone the same thing—that’s my purpose.”

“…Then I will help as much as I can,” Heragor said after a moment’s thought. “You can stay here longer, be patient, and wait for the right opportunity.”

Modir looked at the dragon leader with some surprise, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Why? Are dragons really such a generous and hospitable people?”

Heragor chuckled. “Dragons are indeed generous and hospitable, but more importantly, I have a feeling that what you’re seeking… might be connected to certain matters we are also watching closely.”

(End of chapter)