Chapter 1220: The Third Intervention

Hearing Miss Black Dragon’s resigned sigh, the rocking chair beneath Modir finally came to a halt. The old mage rolled his eyes skyward and spoke with a hint of irritation, “Isn’t that obvious? The adventure plan I carefully laid out is now on hold. Every day, I just watch people come and go, listen to their reports about changes outside the camp. How could I not be bored?”

The young black dragon girl’s face showed a trace of awkwardness. “Well… we’re worried something might go wrong…”

“I know, I know,” Modir waved his hand impatiently before she could finish. “You’re basically afraid I’ll accidentally die out there before my descendant arrives from the continent of Loren. Why dress it up so much?”

The girl’s expression grew even more embarrassed. “Actually… it’s not just that…”

“Right, you’re also worried about my mental state getting worse lately, and that I might cause a big mess if I go out with other adventurers,” Modir said, though he had long since figured out all the dragons’ concerns. Despite his grumbling tone, a cheerful smile never left his face. “Hey, don’t look so awkward like you’ve been caught guessing my thoughts. I’m not embarrassed, so why should you be? Honestly, I get it. Your worries aren’t malicious or wrong. That’s why I’ve been cooperating—since I met your leader last time, I haven’t even left this street. But yeah, it’s really boring…”

The great adventurer shook his head with a sigh. “You guys just don’t have enough entertainment here. The tavern gets old after a few visits, I’m no good at gambling, and there aren’t many adventurers interested in card games or chess…”

As Modir rambled on, the black dragon girl’s expression gradually shifted. Her eyelids drooped, and she sighed softly. “Entertainment, huh… The conditions in the current adventurer camp are limited, but back in old Talrond, we had all kinds of ‘entertainment.’ If you could see the lower districts of Argondor back then, I doubt you’d ever feel bored.”

Modir raised his eyes and glanced at her. “You mean those addictive potions, the nerve-stimulating hallucination generators, and the gladiator arenas?”

The girl blinked, surprised. “You know about those?”

“Every adventurer sees information about the dragon realms before registering. I’m not the kind to toss that aside,” Modir shook his head. “Knowing as much as possible about where you’re going is basic professionalism for any adventurer.”

“True… You’re different from other adventurers,” she smiled, then grew curious. “Since that’s the case, what do you think of old Talrond?”

“Me? I never saw it with my own eyes, so I can’t really picture what that bizarre world was like,” Modir shrugged. “But seeing how you were willing to pay such a huge price to escape and end up with this wasteland… I guess it wasn’t as beautiful as it seemed.”

The girl fell silent for a moment, lost in memories. After a long pause, her expression softened, a faint smile appearing. “From an individual survival perspective, old Talrond could be called a paradise. But when you have to live for tens of thousands, even hundreds of thousands of years on a fixed path, following a vast, complex, invisible framework in every word and action, any paradise becomes a long torment. You’re right—it wasn’t a good place.”

“I’m suddenly curious,” Modir said, staring into her eyes. “I heard that during old Talrond, most dragons didn’t have to work. So what did you do every day?”

“Dueling,” the black dragon girl said with a faint smile.

“Dueling?!” Modir was shocked, looking her over—she seemed slender and delicate. “You? You spent your days dueling?”

“It was actually a form of… entertainment. We’d remove our brain tissue from our original bodies and place it into highly modified ‘combat bodies.’ Then we’d control these powerful bodies to compete for ‘targets’ and rankings inside a huge arena, with reckless death matches and roaring crowds. I was a regular at the Argondor Extreme Arena. Don’t be fooled by how I look now—back then, I dismantled opponents too many to count on two claws.”

“That…” Modir tried to imagine the scene. “Were you fighting for some rare treasure?”

“No, usually just an industrially made mechanical ball or a symbolic metal ring representing points.”

“So… the winners got big prizes?”

“The prizes were decent, but most participants didn’t care much about them. Usually, the money earned went to repairing implants or undergoing central nervous system surgeries.”

Throughout her explanation, the girl kept a faint smile. Modir’s eyes widened in disbelief. This was a way of life he couldn’t comprehend, filled with madness. “Then… what was the point?”

“To prove we’re alive, and to ease the central nervous system agitation caused by overdose of enhancers,” she said calmly. “Some sought death itself—since the Omega System and the upper temples forbid any form of suicide, these extreme combat games were the only way dragons could prove they were alive and worthy of dying… But now, all that’s over.”

“…Alright, I still don’t get it,” Modir muttered after a long pause, shaking his head. “Good thing I don’t have to live that kind of madness.”

The black dragon girl just smiled, then bowed slightly. “Well, I’ve already kept you from your ‘sunbathing’ long enough. I won’t delay you further.”

Modir immediately waved his hand, feigning impatience. The girl smiled indifferently and turned to the other side of the street.

“Tch… Now I understand why these dragons are willing to pay such a huge price to ‘shatter everything,’” Modir muttered softly, watching her retreating figure. “They’re all nearly mad, from top to bottom…”

He shifted in his rocking chair to find a more comfortable position, then closed his eyes as if basking in the sunlight. The gentle creak of the chair blended with the fading sounds of the street…

Suddenly, the great adventurer’s eyes snapped open. The street before him stretched empty—no adventurers or humanoid dragons passed by. Everything had lost its color, drained to dull black and white, and the environment was eerily silent.

At the street’s end, the buildings and straight road abruptly stopped, as if an invisible force had sliced off a chunk of this area. Beyond the sharp boundary lay the familiar gray-white desert, towering thrones and altars, and the distant black silhouette of ruined cities.

Modir’s heart tightened, but this time he was calmer than before. This was his third time entering this strange place. Though he still didn’t understand the cause, his safe returns the previous two times steadied him now.

After confirming his condition was normal, he quickly cast a full set of protective spells, then nimbly slipped into the shadow of a nearby building to avoid detection by the massive “lady” seated on the throne. Almost immediately after, that lazy yet majestic female voice echoed through the air:

“An excellent story, great adventurer. And this time, your tale seems to have many new elements: a powerful race sealed within an ancient kingdom, degenerating over time, addicted to hallucinogenic potions and mad entertainments… subconsciously chasing self-destruction. Great adventurer, I like this new story of yours…”

Hiding behind the building, Modir froze.

The lazy, commanding voice was describing… exactly the information he had just heard from the black dragon girl about old Talrond?!

His heart suddenly raced. For a moment, he thought the lady had discovered him and was teasing this not-so-obedient “intruder” with her words. But the expected pressure never came. Instead, he heard the same voice—his own voice—somewhere near the throne:

“I think this story is pretty good too—you probably guessed it, I made it up just now. I don’t even know how I came up with this whole ‘background setting,’ but judging by your reaction… my storytelling skills are definitely improving.”

“Sigh, my great adventurer, I’m not praising you—though your new story is indeed good,” the lazy, majestic voice said with a hint of helplessness. “I miss the old days when you steadfastly upheld the ‘dignity and professional ethics of adventurers.’ No matter how many times you repeated old stories, you never faked anything. Now you take pride in your ability to make things up.”

“Because now I realize you only want stories. You don’t care if they’re true. And since I’m not compiling my adventure journal, why cling to ‘factual accuracy’?”

The conversation near the throne continued, and Modir gradually calmed down. Yet inside, he was overwhelmed with shock and uncontrollable speculation—he was now certain the “lady” had just referenced the information he’d heard from the black dragon girl. But here, that information was treated as a story the “storytelling adventurer” had just invented… and that “storyteller” claimed the story had just popped into his head!

Had the intelligence he heard in the real world been reflected here? Or was that identical voice actually his projection in this world? A subconscious self? Or some kind of soul split?

There were too many possible theories. Even a learned archmage dared not guess recklessly. Modir felt a sudden urge to leave his “safe zone” and approach the throne to confirm the lady’s true identity, to find out where “his voice” came from, to see who was speaking—even if it was truly “another Modir”…

But reason quelled the dangerous impulse. Following his inner guidance, Modir concealed himself deeper in the building’s shadow.

It was at that moment that the voice of the “other Modir” echoed once more from the direction of the throne. “Alright, my story is done, my lady. Now it’s your turn—feel free to tell us about your dream.”

“My dream… well, I don’t really have anything else to share,” came the lazy yet commanding female voice, tinged with a faint smile. She spoke slowly and deliberately. “It was still that sprawling city, sprawling across the earth… I dreamed I was wandering through it endlessly. It felt like there was a mission waiting for me there, a task I had to complete.

“There were many figures—servants, or perhaps followers—and I kept hearing their voices. From those voices, I could grasp nearly all the changes in the world. Every secret and piece of knowledge, every conspiracy and scheme, lay before me like grains of sand in the sunlight. I gathered those ‘grains’ together, piecing them like a puzzle to reconstruct the shape of the world…

“And then there was another figure, standing at the city’s heart, seemingly its ruler. I had to keep bringing the completed puzzles to them, and they would transform those pieces into their own power, using it to sustain an invisible, colossal beast… Around them, in the city, were others like me. We all had to deliver the ‘things’ gathered from our followers into their hands, to keep that ‘beast’ alive…

“It’s a bit strange, I know. But honestly, I found it rather fascinating.”

The lady’s voice remained calm and unhurried as she described everything she had seen in her dream. After she finished, a few seconds of silence fell near the throne before the “other Modir” broke it. “Ah, to be honest, my lady, the dream you’ve described sounds stranger and stranger to me… Not just strange—I’m starting to find it a little frightening.”

“Adventurer, you really shouldn’t be so timid. Didn’t you say you dared to explore tombs filled with eerie, terrifying energies? And yet what I’ve told you is just a dream—I thought both things would be equally intriguing to you.”

“That’s different, my lady,” the adventurer’s voice quickly retorted. “I dig into tombs to uncover truths buried in history. It’s a serious matter, one I approach with reverence—not something I do just for fun…”

“Is that so? Well, I suppose I don’t quite understand,” the lady’s lazy voice carried a hint of amusement. “Seeking truth in buried history… I don’t see what truths those brief histories hold worth digging up. But if the chance ever arises, I’d be quite interested in joining you—to try out those things you speak of…”

(End of chapter)