Chapter 905: The Enigma Left Behind by Modir

When Gawain saw yet another figure appear on the “Iron Isle” where Modir Wilde was trapped, he instinctively raised an eyebrow, sensing something off.

The timing of this blonde woman’s arrival… was just too convenient.

And in his recovered notes, a now-clear-headed Modir seemed to share a similar suspicion—

“…After Miss Melita left and never returned, I realized that this Iron Isle was far stranger than I’d imagined. Under normal circumstances, no dragon would willingly come to this place. I had even prepared myself for the possibility of being trapped here indefinitely. So when this blonde woman appeared, at first I felt no hope or joy—only tension and unease.

“In a place this bizarre, anyone or anything showing up without warning is cause for caution.

“Keeping my guard up, I asked the woman where she came from. She gave her name—Enya—and said she lived on the nearby continent.

“The nearby continent—that was obviously the dragon realm. I asked if she was a dragon in human form. Her answer was strange… she said she was indeed part of dragon society, but whether she was truly a dragon or not wasn’t important.

“This only deepened my confusion. But my time in that tower taught me a lesson: in these strange waters, curiosity can be dangerous. Knowing too much isn’t always a blessing. So I asked no more.

“At the same time, I noticed something else: whenever Enya glanced at the tower, a faint look of resistance and disgust crossed her face. She seemed uneasy talking to me, as if she hated this place but was forced here for some reason. Who was she really? What did she want?

“My mind was full of questions, but I kept silent. Enya studied me carefully for several minutes, as if scrutinizing every detail, which made me uncomfortable.

“After a long pause, she finally broke the silence, saying she was here to help.

“‘You’ve come into contact with things you shouldn’t have,’ she said. ‘Luckily, I managed to pull you out in time. The hidden dangers on you have now been removed.’

“I recalled the memories that had vanished in the tower, the few fragments left, and the scattered clues I’d written down. Suddenly, I realized my survival wasn’t due to luck or sheer willpower—it was thanks to outside help. This Enya must be the one who saved me.

“I thanked her, and she accepted calmly. Then she asked if I wanted to leave the island and return to ‘where I belonged.’ She said she could send me back to the human world—and was more than willing to do so.

“What else could I say? Of course I wanted to!

“Though everything about this felt strange, and Enya’s appearance was suspiciously convenient, I had no other choice. With no supplies, my condition worsening, unable to navigate properly, trapped by storms in the Arctic, even a legendary hero at their peak couldn’t survive a return to the mainland. My previous plans to get home had been ambitious, but I knew their chances of success were slim. Now, a powerful dragon—though she never outright admitted it—offered help. I couldn’t refuse.

“Accepting help from a stranger might be risky… but surely the risk wasn’t greater than dying trying to cross or circumvent the storm? Besides, Enya always gave off a gentle, elegant, and reliable vibe. My instincts told me she was trustworthy—almost as trustworthy as the laws of nature themselves.

“I immediately asked her to help me return to the human world. But before that, I showed her the strange amulet and explained how I came by it. I didn’t know if this mysterious ‘dragon’ could answer my questions, but I had no one else to ask. The dragons living in these waters were the only ones who might know the tower’s secrets. If even Enya wasn’t sure about the amulet’s dangers, I’d throw it into the sea without hesitation.

“When she saw the amulet, Enya was visibly surprised. She took it and examined it carefully for a long time, then gently ran her hand over it… I didn’t understand what happened. There was no magical fluctuation, no energy reaction, yet an unimaginable power descended, suppressing and purifying whatever residue lingered on the amulet. At the same time, the persistent fear and anxiety that had haunted me faded quickly from my mind—I felt a wave of calm and warmth. Enya then returned the amulet to my hand.

“‘It’s safe now,’ she said. ‘It’s just a piece of metal—you can keep it as a memento.’

“I wasn’t sure if I should trust her, but the amulet definitely felt different. It no longer gave off any unsettling aura. As a supernatural being, perhaps I should trust my instincts in this matter…

“With that, I finally shed my last doubts and hesitations. I didn’t want to stay on this strange Iron Isle for another moment. I was tired of the biting cold winds. I expressed my urgent desire to leave, and Enya smiled and nodded—that was the last thing I remembered on the Iron Isle.

“Then the world blurred. In an instant—perhaps a moment lost to memory—I seemed to pass through some kind of tunnel… or something else. When I opened my eyes again, I was lying on a rocky shore, surrounded by a faintly warm light barrier that was already fading.

“I looked out and saw familiar mountains—this was the Northlands.

“Now, I sit at the edge of my own domain, furiously writing in this journal, recording the strange and bizarre events of the past months. It all feels like a mad, fragmented dream, full of absurd twists and inscrutable details. Yet there is clear evidence that it truly happened—the amulet, which now rests quietly on a large stone to my left, shimmering faintly in the sunlight…”

Gawain frowned.

Modir Wilde… had simply returned safely, rescued by a mysterious woman who appeared out of nowhere, had some hidden dangers removed, and then made it back to the human world unharmed?

To Gawain, such a story always seemed to require some twist or dark secret to feel “plausible.” But reality didn’t always follow the rules of fiction. Modir Wilde truly did return safely to the Northlands. His decades of life and numerous adventures afterward proved it. The record of this “lost voyage” in his journal was coming to an end, and the final words were Modir’s own closing remarks:

“…It’s all over. I’m on the road back to Winterhold, reflecting on the adventures of the past months. My thoughts are clearing from the chaos. The familiar mountains, villages, towns, and the real humans I meet on the road—all confirm that nightmare is behind me. The ground beneath my feet is real.

“As I review my notes, I see again the last unsettling scribbles and mad ramblings, and the strange word ‘Leave’ written in an unfamiliar hand… Now I’m certain that word wasn’t written by my own will. It must have been written by Enya, through my hand, as some kind of ‘mental awakening’ or conduit of power.

“I hesitated long over whether to keep these records—they’re so strange, and hardly what a normal adventure journal should contain. But in the end, I decided to preserve every trace of this journey, including the scribbles and the word Enya wrote.

“There’s no special power in those words—I’ve confirmed that. Leaving them behind is a warning to those who come after. They show the dangers of adventure, and maybe will make reckless adventurers like me think twice before setting out…

“To future readers, if you’re interested in adventure, heed my advice—the seas are perilous, and the northern human lands even more so. Beyond the Eternal Storm is no place for ordinary folk. If you truly must go, prepare to say a permanent farewell to this world…

“As for me… I suppose I need time to recover and properly deal with the aftermath of this reckless journey. As for the future… well, I can’t lie to myself in this journal.

“Modir Wilde is a reckless fool who can’t help but chase adventure!

“It turns out I’m no good duke, no proper noble, no fit ruler. I’ll soon relinquish my title and arrange the succession. Neither the king nor the other dukes can stop me. Let me be absurd—let me set out again, toward the next unknown. Maybe next time alone, so I won’t drag the innocent down. Maybe one day I’ll die alone far from human lands, with only a journal for company. But whatever!

“This world of endless unknowns is fucking amazing!!”

Gawain quietly closed the thick, ancient journal, watching the worn cover once again conceal the words inside. The late afternoon sun cast a soft glow over the restored spine, the gold threads and silver embossing shimmering faintly.

Since taking the throne, Gawain had studied the histories of the major noble houses of this land, learning about the changes after Gawain Cecil’s death. Many names had become familiar to him.

Modir Wilde, six centuries ago, was quite a famous figure.

He inherited the dukedom of the Northlands early, then passed it on early as well. He spent most of his life wandering the world, acting nothing like a typical noble. Even among the early pioneers of Ansu, he was a singular figure—so much so that nobles and historians alike frowned when mentioning the “Adventurer Duke,” unsure how to describe him.

He was a great man. He traveled every corner of the human world, and even beyond its borders. He added nearly a third of a duke’s worth of developable wilderness to Ansu’s lands, discovered over a dozen precious magical materials and new crops for the fledgling human civilization, and mapped the northern and eastern frontiers by foot. Many of his discoveries—minerals, flora and fauna, natural phenomena, and the magical laws after the magical tides—still benefit the human world today.

He was a reckless man—abandoning his title, ignoring his fief, disregarding the royal family. All his contributions stemmed purely from personal interest. His impulsive actions caused nearly as much trouble as the good he did. So much so that six centuries ago, the Ansu royal court had to devote considerable effort to helping the Vyrd family stabilize the northern territories, just to prevent the Duke of the North from “disappearing” intermittently and plunging the borderlands into chaos. Had this happened during the Second Dynasty, when royal authority was much weaker, Modir Vyrd’s capriciousness might have even sparked a new schism.

Because of this, noble historians and scholars ultimately refused to pass judgment on the life of this “reckless duke.” They recorded his story in ambiguous terms, leaving no clear conclusions. If not for the “Literary Preservation Project” launched in the first year of Cecil’s reign, many precious historical records about Modir might never have been uncovered.

“A fascinating character…”

Gawain smiled softly, then sighed as he sat up from his desk.

He walked over to the nearby “World Map” hanging on the wall, his gaze slowly drifting across its surface.

Modir Vyrd left behind so many mysteries…

Gawain thought silently to himself. He picked up a pen from a small stand beside him, placing the tip near the landmass representing Talrond across from the Eternal Storm—a rough sketch, far less detailed than the continent of Loren. After hesitating and pondering for a moment, he moved the pen over the sea west of Talrond, marking a spot and adding a question mark beside it.

“Another tower, huh…”

He murmured quietly, his eyes dropping down to the coastline where Northport lay.

“A world full of unknowns…”

(End of chapter)