Chapter 829: Dragon Wings

A pale golden interface flickered to life before Balogur, accompanied by the trembling ring symbolizing the Omega artificial intelligence. Along with it came Omega’s emotionless synthetic voice: “Good morning, Balogur. It is good to see you remain in good health.”

Balogur ignored the routine greeting, his tone calm and detached as he asked, “Is the line secure?”

“Line is secure.”

“Inform Elder Dukemore and Speaker Andal that the delegation from the Holy Dragon Principality has departed—to make contact with the southern Cecils.”

“Understood,” the Omega ring vibrated coldly, its voice indifferent. “Message transmitted to recipients.”

Balogur exhaled softly, then after a brief pause, he suddenly lowered his voice: “Has anything happened in Talrond?”

The Omega ring responded mechanically: “No incidents in Talrond. The dragonkind remain loyal.”

After more than ten seconds of silence, Omega’s voice echoed again through the hall: “For security reasons, this line will be closed unless further information is received.”

Balogur said nothing. With a wave of his right hand, the pale golden communication interface dissolved into thin air, leaving only faint golden particles that slowly dispersed.

The vast throne hall fell into complete silence. The Dragonblood Duke sat quietly on his cold, unyielding stone throne, the entire chamber steeped in stillness as if time itself had frozen.

…

In a magnificent hall supported by pale golden alloy pillars, its dome and walls covered with countless intricate reliefs, an ancient equipment chamber hummed with a low drone. Indicator lights embedded among the carvings pulsed gently like breathing. Countless cables and conduits extended from the dome and pillars, weaving into a ring-like structure, from which hung numerous plugs and connectors, all linked to a massive form at the center.

It was an aged dragon, even older in appearance than Speaker Andal. His scales had faded to a gray-white, and cybernetic modifications covered nearly his entire body. Alloy armor and composite synthetic skin enveloped his timeworn frame. Dim lights flickered between the gaps in his scales—so extensive were the augmentations that even a dragon’s keen eyes struggled to discern whether this was a living creature of flesh and blood or a machine forged from steel, crystal, polymers, and biochemical fluids.

With a low mechanical sound, the colossal “machine” stirred.

Dukemore lifted his alloy-clad head, his dark red electronic eye shifting slightly in its socket. Then he turned toward one side of the hall, where a crystal-clear translucent curtain silently descended. Points of light flickered across it, soon coalescing into a projection of Speaker Andal.

“The exiles have stepped beyond the mountains,” Andal’s voice came low and measured. “What changes might this bring to the fate of the dragons, none can say…”

The Elder of the Senate, Dukemore, rasped in a deep voice: “Any change is better than stagnation… especially since recent events even caught Omega off guard. Such occurrences happen once in tens of thousands of years.”

“Recent events…” Andal’s sole biological eye darkened with thought. “Has it been confirmed as a divine descent?”

“Confirmed. A new god attempted to manifest but was intercepted by mortals at the boundary of reality. There is ample evidence this had nothing to do with Typhon—in fact, it may be connected to Cecil,” Dukemore said gravely. “The only pity is that even with such an event…”

“A mysterious new god, a divine descent halted in its early stages—this might be catastrophic for mortals, but for the gods, it is but a ripple,” Andal shook his head. “Clearly, it is not enough to divert ‘His’ attention…”

“Be cautious. Even we, aided by Omega, may have our conversations overheard by ‘Him,’” Dukemore warned immediately. “No matter how many hundreds of thousands of years we spend building these secure channels, none are absolutely safe.”

Andal fell silent. After a few seconds, he suddenly shook his head. “I have long been curious about one thing, Elder Dukemore…”

“What is that?”

“When we conduct these affairs right under ‘His’ gaze, does ‘He’ truly remain unaware?”

The grand hall fell utterly silent.

…

Dim sunlight spilled over the horizon, casting a golden glow across the Arctic ice seas and illuminating the towering terrace of the temple. A golden-haired figure in a flowing gown stood atop the high terrace, gazing down upon the dragon realm with an eternal, unblinking stare.

The dragon priest Helagor stood respectfully behind the golden-haired woman. “My lord, the long daylight has begun.”

“Yes, daylight…” The Dragon God Enya murmured softly, eyes drifting beyond the distant rolling mountains and the scattered sea beyond. Her gaze stretched all the way to the edge of sky and sea, where, far from Talrond, a faint tower shimmered in her golden eyes.

Her pupils contracted imperceptibly, then she turned her gaze away with a hint of disgust and resistance.

“Helagor, has anything interesting happened in Talrond recently?”

Helagor answered promptly: “My lord, the Daylight Festival will begin in three days. Also, the Omdaal Heavy Industries is hosting the Extreme Battlefield Tournament—it has been quite popular over the past century.”

“The festival has long lost its novelty; it hardly counts as interesting,” the Dragon God snorted softly. “The Extreme Battlefield… watching young dragons, heavily modified, injecting enhancers as they charge into the arena, then in less than half a day covering the entire field with implant parts and circulating fluids, only to be carried back to the repair station in the end—do you think I find that entertaining?”

Helagor bowed his head. “…Then it seems this entertainment won’t last long.”

The golden-haired woman dropped the subject and casually mentioned another matter. “Speaking of interesting things… in the mortal world beyond the Eternal Storm, something intriguing seems to have happened recently?”

Helagor’s reply came a beat late. “…The affairs of the mortal world are not worthy of your attention, my lord.”

“Not worthy of my attention?” The woman turned slightly, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Do you truly not want me to take a proper… ‘look’ over there?”

Helagor lowered his head again, repeating, “The affairs of the mortal world are not worthy of your attention, my lord.”

The woman glanced at her chief priest and said lightly, “Helagor, there’s no need to control your heartbeat so deliberately. We’re just chatting, aren’t we?”

The dragon priest remained silent, head bowed.

“Boring,” the woman whispered, then turned back to gaze over the land of Talrond. In the dim light, she narrowed her eyes slightly. “Truly a bunch of boring children…”

…

“This is seriously awesome, I’m telling you!!”

In a special experimental facility on the outskirts of Cecil City, Rebecca grabbed Maggie’s arm, her face alight with excitement. Then she turned aside, proudly showing off her recent “research achievement.” “This took us a lot of effort! Technically, no major issues, but customizing joints and connectors specifically for ‘dragons’ really tested everyone’s imagination—especially since the Origin Lab is still offline. We’ve made tons of models just to get this far…”

Cecil’s Pearl (a steel ball) babbled on nearby, but Maggie, dragged here early in the morning, was only now beginning to grasp what was happening. The dragonborn living in the human world slowly lifted her head and looked at Rebecca’s proudly displayed “technical achievement,” her expression complex and hard to read.

Inside a large workshop built from lightweight metal plates and steel frames, bright magical crystal lights shone down from the ceiling. At the center was a massive apparatus secured by chains, hooks, and supports.

It consisted of several parts, forming an imposing shape. The main components were a pair of “wings” over ten meters long, crafted from metal and runes. The lightweight rune-formed skeleton shimmered faintly, and the rugged yet sturdy mechanical structure suggested they could easily unfold. These wings didn’t seem complete on their own; they looked more like external “support frames” for actual wings. Besides the wings, there were also rune armor plates and harness straps—all enormous.

So large they could serve as armor for a dragon.

Because that was exactly what they were: armor designed for dragons.

Maggie stared at the rough yet imposing steel suit, full of Cecil’s magical industrial style, and after a long moment, whispered, “You actually built this thing…”

“Honestly, it shouldn’t have progressed this fast,” Rebecca said, arms crossed, proudly gazing at the creation her team had built. “You know how project approvals work—time and budget constraints mean priority goes to projects with high mass production value. You’re the only ‘dragonborn’ we have, so making a custom suit just for you doesn’t meet the usual standards. But—”

Rebecca deliberately dragged out the last word, teasing. Maggie already guessed: “…Because of the diplomatic progress with the Holy Dragon Principality?”

“You figured it out right away?”

“Not hard to guess.”

“Alright, yes, that’s the reason,” Rebecca scratched her head. “Our ancestor seems to want more bargaining chips when dealing with dragonborn, so he approved my request—after all, this is just a byproduct of ‘dragon cavalry’ tech, and the scale isn’t huge.”

Rebecca then looked at Maggie. “Do you think this will interest the dragonborn?”

Maggie looked up, eyes fixed on the steel wings, lost in thought and memory. Slowly, she said, “Many young dragonborn long to fly. Of course, they’d be interested. But… in the Holy Dragon Principality, the real power lies with the senators and elders.

“The Principality is a place as stubborn and cold as ice and stone. There, the forces of ‘tradition’ and ‘taboo’ are beyond what you can imagine. And ‘flight’—unfortunately—is one of those taboos. Honestly, I don’t think genetic deformities are the main reason dragonborn can’t take to the skies—it’s tradition and taboo.

“So don’t blame me for being pessimistic, Princess Rebecca. Even if many dragonborn are interested in what you’ve built, it’s unlikely to become an ‘official bond’ between the Holy Dragon Principality and the Cecil Empire.”

Maggie gave a solemn reminder, then watched as Rebecca tapped her chin thoughtfully for a moment. The imaginative princess suddenly clapped her hands together. “Looks like smuggling’s our only option!”

Maggie blinked. “You’re serious?”

“It’s just an idea,” Rebecca said casually, “and I’m pretty sure our ancestor would scold me if he heard it. But after the scolding, there’s a good chance he’d think the same thing…” She waved her hand dismissively. “Doesn’t matter. These kinds of decisions are for the ancestor and Aunt to worry about. I’m just in charge of the tech side. As far as I’m concerned, if it sparks interest among even a few of the dragonborn, then it’s already valuable.”

She beckoned Maggie over with a bright smile. “Want to give it a try? We’ve done plenty of model tests and lab trials, but whether it actually works, you’ll have to test it yourself.”

Maggie looked at Rebecca’s clear, radiant smile and found herself inexplicably uplifted.

She returned the smile and nodded firmly. “Of course. I’d be honored. But… does this thing have a name yet?”

“‘Steel Wings,’” Rebecca said proudly. “I came up with it—simple and straightforward, right?”

(End of chapter)