Chapter 1247: Seas Change and Fields Turn

The “loophole” that had been captured.

Amon wasn’t an expert in the magical arts, nor did his authority extend to explaining these arcane phenomena. Yet that didn’t mean he lacked the capacity to learn and understand. Having spent time studying neural networks and interacting with Mimirna, he had absorbed a wealth of cutting-edge knowledge. So now, with just a little reflection, he grasped the meaning behind the goddess of magic’s words.

“You mean… these dust particles shouldn’t be able to exist stably in the real world? That some aspect of their ‘essence’ conflicts with the laws governing reality?” He fixed his gaze on the sand illusions, bound within the magic array, flickering erratically like broken signals. His voice was hesitant, tinged with uncertainty as he addressed the goddess beside him.

“Not only that,” Mimirna nodded gently, her tone solemn. “These particles vanish the moment the observer disappears, which means there’s a hard link between them and ‘cognition.’ When the observer returns, the particles reappear, indicating there’s a higher-level ‘cognition’ anchoring them. When both observer and sand vanish together, it’s this higher cognition that ensures the particles continue to exist in some dimension beyond observation, and that they can return…”

“That’s where my knowledge runs out,” Amon admitted, shaking his head slightly, his eyes like molten light filled with confusion. “But one thing I do understand: without your experimental procedure, no ordinary person would ever suspect these sands behaved this way…”

“They only disappear when all observers lose perception of them, and instantly return when observers come back. In routine experiments, technicians would hardly notice these phenomena ever occurred,” Mimirna said softly, then shook her head a little. “But that’s not absolute. Mortals are clever—once they have a clue, they’ll eventually design experiments to verify the unique nature of these shadow sands. This was just an observer test.”

“The difficulty lies in that ‘clue,’” Amon sighed. “If Lady Enya hadn’t pointed it out, who would have thought to run an observer test on these sands? I’m curious—how did she figure it out?”

“She was once among the ‘Pantheon’ of the dragon race. She knew the authority of all gods, including those governing dreams and illusions,” Mimirna replied casually. “With such broad insight, detecting anomalies in these shadow sands was no challenge for her.”

Amon pondered for a moment, then suddenly asked, “These sands were created by Amber—what about the samples sent from Talrond? Do those ‘real’ shadow sands exhibit the same contradictions?”

Mimirna slowly shook her head. “Lady Enya examined them. Those sands don’t show this ‘contradiction’… Of course, if we’re uncertain, we could test those samples as well. But they’re far scarcer—each grain precious. I’ll need to redesign the magic array here.”

“You’re the expert; you decide,” Amon nodded, then couldn’t help but glance again at the imprisoned sands with curiosity. “But tell me… what do you think causes these sands to behave so strangely?”

“…I’m not sure,” Mimirna mused, her voice slow and hesitant. “In my memory and understanding, only one scenario even remotely fits this phenomenon…”

“One scenario?” Amon turned to her, eyes fixed on those veiled, misty eyes. “What scenario?”

“Dream derivatives… That should be the domain of Narithil and Duvalet, but I suspect even they have never seen such an anomaly manifest directly in the real world—one that can linger there and deceive observers.”

…

Gawain still remembered the first time he saw Talrond—the dazzling spectacle that unfolded before him. He recalled the colossal energy barrier enveloping the entire continent, the lush ecological domes, the cities and factories glowing with neon lights. He remembered the aerial traffic weaving intricate networks above the cityscape, the intercity rails threading between towering buildings, the skyscraper headquarters of massive corporate conglomerates, and the sprawling halls perched atop mountain peaks, bathed in radiant light.

It was a splendor no bard or playwright on the continent of Loren could fully capture—a grandeur spanning multiple eras, built upon countless years of civilization, so magnificent that even Gawain, the “satellite genius,” was left in awe.

Blue and white dragons streaked across the sky, soaring beyond the now-extinguished shield walls. The shattered coastline faded into the darkness behind them, and the ravaged land stretched out before him.

On the ground stood molten, twisted ruins of cities and factories, collapsed palaces and sanctuaries. The majestic landscapes once etched in Gawain’s memory had been reduced to these unrecognizable forms, lying silently beneath the polar winds, bathed in the starlight of the endless night, mute and still.

Amber had fallen silent since earlier. She moved to the edge of Melita’s back, carefully resting her hands on the dragon’s keratinous ridges. She gazed out at the ruins beneath the starry night, as if trying to match these scenes with memories long past. But no matter how hard she tried, she failed—only a sigh filled with melancholy escaped her lips. “Ah… it’s all gone. That place was so magnificent once.”

“Yeah, it’s all gone. But that’s just the chance to start anew,” Melita’s voice came from ahead, tinged with a smile and a sense of relief. “At least now, the fate of survival on this land is back in our own hands. Whether we live or die, rise or fall—it’s up to us.”

The young dragonling resting on Melita’s back quieted as well. The little one had never seen such a sight, nor understood where her mother had brought her. It would take time before she grasped the bond between this barren land and herself. For now, she was simply surprised and nervous.

She nestled behind Melita’s shoulder blades, claws gripping tightly to her mother’s scales, neck stretched out as she stared into the distance.

In the direction she looked, a range of mountains rolled beneath the darkness. The slopes bore scars of massive plasma jets that had burned deep craters and even clefts through the rock. Scattered remnants of shattered palaces lay across crystalline hillsides.

Melita seemed to sense the little one’s movement behind her. She turned her long neck with a smile. “See those palaces in the distance? That’s where I used to live—though now it’s no longer habitable. Our new home is somewhere else.”

“Are we heading straight to Agondor? Or stopping by the Coastal County first?” Amber asked curiously. “I heard you and Noretta are living in the Coastal County now…”

“We’re going to Agondor, as planned,” Melita replied immediately. “Noretta and I have a place there. We lack everything now, but at least we have a home.”

Agondor… Gawain remembered that city well. It was where he had stayed during his last visit to Talrond. There, he had glimpsed the advanced civilization hidden beneath the planet’s surface, and also witnessed the rot and madness lurking beneath the dragon kingdom’s glittering facade. But now, all those memories had scattered like dust in the wind. A new city stood atop the ruins—not nearly as grand as the old palaces, but alive. Seeing the bustling construction sites, the dragons hard at work, the markets lining the simple streets, and the young dragons practicing flight overhead, he knew the land’s rebirth was only a matter of time.

The atmosphere felt familiar—like the one he had witnessed centuries ago at the foot of the Dark Mountains, or even seven hundred years back in the memory of Gawain Cecil, on the frontier lands of the Ansu Kingdom.

A people who, amid such wasteland, still persist in rebuilding and expanding, who cling to the pride of civilization rather than sinking into savage survival of the fittest and marauding—such a people are destined to rise again.

Now, the dragons valued pragmatism and efficiency. Gawain himself disliked needless ceremony. So the welcome ceremony in Agondor was solemn yet simple. After a brief reception, Melita and Noretta went ahead to settle their young and handle some affairs, while Gawain and Amber remained in the new council hall.

There, Gawain met again the “High Dragon Priest” who once stood beside the Dragon God.

He had shed his ornate golden robes and the crown symbolizing divine authority. When he greeted Gawain, he wore a plain, durable gray-white robe. His expression bore a weariness even dragons could not hide, yet deep in his eyes shone a vibrant light—a spirit utterly different from before, one belonging to the living. His face carried a sincere smile.

In the modestly furnished reception room, Gawain sat with this dragon leader. Amber stood behind him, and another young dragon girl with short black hair stood just behind Helagor.

“You will always be a friend to us dragons,” Helagor began. “I never imagined our second meeting would be under such circumstances.”

“Yeah, I remember our last meeting wasn’t that long ago,” Gawain said with a sigh, studying the humanoid dragon before him. “It feels like centuries have passed.”

“Talrond has changed a great deal,” Helagor nodded. “You don’t need me to recount the situation—you already know. I heard Melita flew in from the east coast, so you must have seen the wastelands and the safe zones along the way. What do you think?”

“…Providing aid to Talrond was one of the wisest decisions I’ve ever made,” Gawain said frankly after a moment’s thought. “I once worried whether the dragons could endure on this wasteland after such upheaval, and whether the Alliance’s vast manpower and resources would be used effectively in this postwar ruin. But now, all those worries have vanished. The dragons are not only my personal friends—they are trusted members of the Alliance.”

His words came straight from the heart—there was no hint of empty flattery. Even a proud ancient dragon like Heragor clearly appreciated such sincere praise. A faint smile appeared on the elder dragon’s face as he nodded gently. “We still face many challenges on our side, but at least we’ve managed to keep society above the bare survival line. As long as our people can hold their ground within the safe zones, we can gradually clear the contamination and monsters from the danger areas, and even rebuild much of our production. Your aid has played an unimaginably crucial role in this—without the food, medicine, and industrial materials you helped provide, nearly a third of our kin might not have survived the harsh winter after the great shield vanished.”

“Stabilizing Talrond is good for the entire Alliance,” Gawain nodded in agreement. Then, shifting gears to end the mutual compliments—pleasant as they were, he had come on serious business—he said, “Let’s talk about the Tidebreaker Tower and that great adventurer. That’s why I’m here.”

“Mr. Modir is currently staying in the adventurer’s town. I’ve already sent people to arrange things—you’ll be able to meet him shortly,” Heragor replied promptly. “Miss Victoria has been by his side these past days. Perhaps some kind of ‘bloodline power’ is truly at work—his condition has been quite stable recently, and he hasn’t experienced any more episodes of ‘dream-boundary crossing.’ Still, I don’t dare let him leave the vicinity of Argondor just yet, to avoid any accidents.”

“As for the Tidebreaker Tower… our monitoring team on the west coast just sent a report today. The tower’s situation remains normal. At least from the outside, it stands harmlessly in the sea—no intelligent beings approach it, and nothing has emerged from within.”

“However, my concern about that tower grows by the day… I know I shouldn’t rely on vague things like ‘intuition’ as evidence, but I have to say it—my instincts are sounding alarms.”

“Intuition…” Gawain’s voice grew serious, his expression grave. “You were once a demigod; your instincts are no ordinary matter. By the way, you haven’t sent anyone inside the tower to investigate, have you?”

“No,” Heragor shook his head. “Recently, I increased surveillance on the Tidebreaker Tower. The west coast watch posts have grown from one to three, and the monitoring perimeter has been pushed to within six nautical miles of the tower. But so far, we haven’t sent anyone to set foot on that steel island. After all, it involves the Tidebreaker itself. Although the dragons have broken free from the ‘Irreversible God’s’ chains, our own strength has diminished greatly. With only the forces stationed on the west coast, we’re not yet able to confront the tower head-on.”

“Why six nautical miles?” Amber, standing behind Gawain, suddenly asked with curiosity.

“That is…” Heragor hesitated, then said slowly, “That’s the limit ‘It’ once told me personally. Crossing beyond six nautical miles risks the tower’s pollution actively affecting one’s mind.”

“Enya tested that, didn’t she? That should be reliable—she’s very trustworthy in these matters.” Gawain nodded slightly. Just as he was about to ask more, a knock came from the side. A dragon attendant entered the reception room after receiving permission.

“Leader, Mr. Modir and Miss Victoria have arrived.”

(End of chapter)