Chapter 1224: Under the Night Sky of Talrond

As Coretta spoke, Maggie lifted her graceful neck and gazed out across the distant wilderness. Under the endless polar night sky, the beacon lights blinked rhythmically—scattered across the scarred, war-torn wasteland. The battlefield stretched far and wide, its cracked, hardened rock and uneven craters bathed in the cold starlight. A biting polar wind howled across the land, carrying with it the unmistakable scent of leaked pollutants. Yet amidst this desolation, the beacons shone steadily, powered by small energy modules and protected by rudimentary armor. They stood firm against the chill, forming a fragile but unbroken “border” across the wilderness.

The beacon lights stretched all the way to the horizon. Compared to the once endless blaze of Talrond’s cities, these faint glimmers were like fireflies. But these fireflies marked the hard-won safe zones that dragons had carved out through countless brutal battles on this harsh land. Beyond the lights lay a death zone where life could not take root; within them was the last refuge for the dragons.

Like every Dragonborn who had the chance to set foot on Talrond, Maggie’s romantic notions of the “dragons’ homeland” slowly crumbled into harsh reality. It wasn’t a pretty picture, but at least it was tangible and real.

Coretta stood beside her, raising a wing to point toward the distance. “That’s the boundary of the Orange Zone. According to current classifications, the Orange Zone is still considered a ‘safe zone’—at least for supernaturals and dragons with some self-defense capability. Beyond the lights lies the Red Zone. See those brighter spots? Those are rest stations within the Red Zone. Warriors use those stations as footholds to gradually clear out the pollution and rifts in the Red Zone…”

“And beyond the Red Zone?” Maggie suddenly asked. “Is there anything else beyond that?”

“There is—the Black Zone. It’s a catch-all term for all unexplored or unknown areas, including those that have been scouted but are too dangerous to handle with current means. In fact, the Black Zone makes up most of Talrond’s current state. The explored areas, including the Red Zone, account for less than a tenth of the entire continent,” Coretta explained slowly. “Exploring the Black Zone is extremely risky. Only the most elite professional combat dragons can undertake such missions. But we have to explore those places—there are urgently needed resources, possibly still functioning or salvageable factories, maybe even dragon eggs, or kin trapped in darkness waiting for rescue…”

Maggie listened intently, her expression thoughtful. After Coretta finished, she was silent for a moment before suddenly asking, “Can the information about these efforts to push forward and rebuild in the wasteland be made public?”

“Public?” Coretta blinked in surprise but quickly considered the question and nodded gently. “There’s nothing really secret about it. The Council is even considering compiling these materials into booklets to distribute to the aid teams and adventurers coming from Loren as reference. Why, are you interested in this information?”

“Not me—it’s our Majesty I’m thinking of. I mean King Cecil,” Maggie said immediately. “We’re planning a counteroffensive in the Gondor Wasteland. You probably know the place—it’s a land devastated by the magical tide, crawling with mutants and other dangerous aberrations. Though it’s different from Talrond, the challenges we face are similar. Your experience on this land could be a huge help to us.”

Coretta blinked again, clearly not having considered this angle before. But she quickly understood Maggie’s meaning and smiled broadly, revealing eighteen sharp teeth. “Ah, that’s certainly good news. I’ll report this to our leader as soon as I return. He’ll be more than happy to provide the Alliance with such information. Since the war ended, Talrond has been receiving aid from the nations of Loren. Dragons aren’t the kind to owe favors without repaying them.”

Maggie bowed her neck slightly, tilting her head from side to side—a gesture she had just learned from other dragons. In pureblood dragon tradition, this signified friendship and gratitude.

Coretta returned the gesture, then her attention shifted. Her eyes landed on the complex yet rugged mechanical armor Maggie wore. The “Dueling Dragon Maiden,” famed in the Extreme Arena, had been curious about Maggie’s mechanical suit from the start. Now that they were somewhat acquainted, she finally asked, “Is that armor you’re wearing the ‘Steel Wings’ the Dragonborn from the Coastal County mentioned?”

“Yes,” Maggie lifted her head, flicking her wings and tail with a hint of pride. The steel joints creaked softly in the night, but she spoke modestly. “Compared to Talrond’s technology, it’s probably nothing special.”

“It was, once. But Talrond today can’t produce full-body implants or powered armor like that anymore,” Coretta said with a touch of envy as she examined the armor. “Putting that aside… I actually prefer your style. The rugged steel frame, the blend of machinery and runes… Honestly, it’s beautiful! Especially that device on your chin—what is it? A kind of ram?”

“It’s actually part of the head armor,” Maggie laughed, shaking her head from side to side. It was the first time in a long while, aside from Rebecca, that someone had complimented her “iron chin.” It made her feel her taste was still normal. “Of course, if needed, you could use it as a ram. It’s made with a mix of purple steel and mithril—very tough…”

“I like it!” Coretta’s eyes sparkled, her massive wings twitching restlessly. The duelist seemed to be recalling the thrill of her days in the Extreme Arena. “The fusion of primal and advanced tech—why didn’t I think of that when designing my combat gear? If only I’d had this in my last fight… well, maybe it still wouldn’t have stopped someone sneaking up from behind…”

Her voice trailed off with a hint of regret. Maggie, having heard about the Extreme Arena before, couldn’t help but imagine how imposing a pureblood dragon would look clad in steel armor. She shook her head happily. “This armor might not be practical for a pureblood dragon, but wearing something like this in the arena would definitely intimidate the other fighters…”

As she spoke, she stuck out her tongue and licked her lips. “After all, this is…”

Her words suddenly cut off. Her tongue stuck to the iron chin, and the rest of her sentence dissolved into a string of muffled murmurs: “Mmm… slrr… mmm…”

Coretta, who had been lost in nostalgic thoughts, turned sharply and was startled. “Hey! You’re stuck! Burn it off, burn it off—quick, make some fire!”

Maggie snapped back to reality. A bright spark ignited in her throat, quickly erupting into a fierce flame from her mouth. She controlled the breath carefully, managing not to singe Coretta nearby. The intense heat finally freed her tongue from the iron chin.

The little hill fell silent. Coretta glanced cautiously at her seemingly embarrassed new friend and finally couldn’t hold back. “Are you okay?”

“I was careless…” Maggie’s voice was muffled and hoarse, whether from tongue injury or emotional bruising, it was hard to say. “I forgot I was wearing this… but it shouldn’t have stuck so badly…”

Coretta sighed. “You licked iron in the Arctic winter—I don’t see what’s so surprising about that.”

Maggie’s lips twitched, though it was hard to tell beneath the iron chin. “Alright, you’re right… this is terrible. I remember hardly ever doing something this stupid since I became an adult…”

Coretta looked at her new friend, then shook her head after a moment of silence. “Look on the bright side—you’re not the only one. After Talrond’s great shield disappeared, many dragons who’d lived their whole lives in ‘greenhouses’ encountered true polar climates for the first time. We have to learn everything from scratch. Toxic factory ruins and wandering elemental creatures aren’t the only challenges dragons face—we also have to deal with kin who get curious enough to lick iron railings at the North Pole…”

Maggie was dumbfounded. This was certainly not something any serious scholar would mention in a formal “Dragon Treatise.” But gradually, she couldn’t help but laugh—and Coretta laughed along with her.

Under the starlit wasteland of Talrond, the laughter of two dragons echoed softly.

…

Two hours later, Coretta returned to the adventurer’s cabin where Modir lived. Victoria Wilde had temporarily left.

“She said she’ll be back soon,” Modir told the black dragon girl with a hint of helplessness. “She’s going to make some arrangements and get help from the adventurer camp’s manager. Sounds like she plans to stay near me. Honestly, I understand how she feels, but I think it’s unnecessary…”

“Ms. Victoria has her own plans,” Coretta said cautiously. She didn’t know about Modir’s worsening condition but was aware of Victoria Wilde’s identity. After a brief hesitation, she settled on this reply.

“I know, I’m just saying,” Modir smiled faintly. Then, lowering his voice mysteriously as he leaned toward Coretta’s ear, he whispered, “By the way, you know, my descendant… might be a big deal.”

Coretta froze, unsure how to respond to the great adventurer. She could only reply vaguely, “Oh? A big deal? What kind of big deal?”

“She says she’s an administrative officer in the government bureau—just a regular officer,” Modir said slowly, settling into his rocking chair. But then he shook his head gently. “But I know she’s not telling the truth.”

Coretta blinked. “…Huh?”

“My memory isn’t great, and my mind’s a bit unstable, but I’m not stupid—and I have sharp eyes,” the old man smiled, tapping his head and eyes. “She’s a big deal, definitely not a low-level official. Low-level officials don’t have that kind of presence, and they wouldn’t stir up the upper echelons of Talrond, nor speak so casually about the empire’s rulers… She’s not good at lying—well, maybe just not in front of me.”

Coretta listened, suddenly growing nervous. “So you…”

“I had a few guesses, but I didn’t dare dwell on any of them—not even the key words in my mind,” Modir’s rocking chair creaked softly as it swayed, the wood groaning under the motion. “I even gave myself a few mental cues to stop my thoughts from spiraling out of control. Don’t worry, young lady, this old man knows his limits. I’ve been through plenty of strange and bizarre things in my life, so naturally, I’ve picked up some ways to cope.”

“…Thank you for your efforts,” Coretta said quietly.

“Efforts? Hardly,” Modir chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. He tilted his head back, gazing dreamily at the starry sky beneath the endless night. “I’m just afraid I might accidentally forget again… Lord Heragor ran some tests on me. Certain key triggers can scramble my memory for a while, sometimes even reset my entire consciousness. Sometimes it’s just a brief reset, but next time, who knows? I might forget a whole day. I finally got to meet my descendant, and if she comes to see me again tomorrow and I don’t recognize her… well, wouldn’t that be awkward?”

Coretta suddenly found herself at a loss for words. She simply stood quietly beside the old mage, listening to his somewhat rambling monologue.

“I never thought I’d have family,” Modir continued slowly, “even though there’s nearly six hundred years between us… In all my memories, I’ve just been wandering—visiting many places, meeting many people, recording many things. But none of them ever formed a lasting connection with me. Over time, I even forgot what ‘time’ itself was. I drifted through my days in a haze, until today, when it finally hit me—I remember some people, some events… even from the First Ansu Dynasty.”

“You do have family,” Coretta couldn’t help but say, “and your family hasn’t forgotten you. Even if you don’t remember them, they’ve always—”

Her words trailed off as a steady, soft snore came from the old mage’s direction.

Modir had fallen asleep, basking in the “sunlight of his heart” amid the eternal night of the dragon city. But this time, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. The bleak, black-and-white world hadn’t come to claim him. He was sleeping peacefully.

…

After returning to the temporary quarters in New Agondol, Victoria met Maggie, who had just come back from the city outskirts.

“Modir Wilde’s condition is worsening. I suspect he’s being hunted by the power of an ancient god—and that power is already starting to affect the real world,” Victoria said rapidly to Maggie. “I need you to return to Loren immediately, report this to His Majesty, and bring back a ‘sample.’”

“Understood. I’m ready to leave at any time,” Maggie nodded promptly, though her voice sounded a bit hoarse and strange.

Victoria’s expression turned curious. “What’s wrong with your throat?”

Maggie looked a little embarrassed. Faced with her friend’s question, she awkwardly turned her head away. “It’s nothing. Just hurt my throat from hiccupping.”

“Hiccupping?”

“Yeah. Hiccups.”

(End of chapter)