Chapter 909: You Always Have to Pay a Price
Gawain watched helplessly as Melita’s complexion shifted rapidly—from flushed red to pale white, then back to red again. The young agent gripped the edge of the desk, her eyes suddenly widening in shock. Her entire body trembled uncontrollably. Then, from deep within her throat, a low, strange murmur emerged—an eerie chorus of countless whispered voices, each carrying its own will. At the same time, a pair of massive dragon wings materialized as a shimmering illusion, spreading wide enough to nearly fill the entire study. Hidden within those wings were hundreds of eyes, all fixated on Gawain’s position.
In the next instant, the eyes vanished without a trace. Melita forced herself to suppress the tearing and fracturing sensation deep within her soul. Her knuckles whitened from the strain, and it took her a long moment to refocus her gaze on Gawain. “Another one just… exploded.”
Gawain didn’t even catch what she muttered this time. He was too stunned, instinctively reaching out to steady her. “You… I only asked for a name. How could that—”
Melita gasped for breath twice before managing to speak, still shaken. “That was… our god. My heavens, I never expected you to say His true name out loud. And I certainly didn’t think it would draw His attention.”
Gawain’s jaw dropped.
Two seconds later, the realization hit him fully, and he blurted out, “You mean… that was the name of the Dragon God?!”
“Yes,” Melita said with a bitter smile, swaying as she made her way to a nearby armchair and sank down. As a high-ranking agent, sitting without permission was a serious breach of protocol—but this time, she broke her own rules. “And please, never say that name aloud again… it puts me at enormous risk.”
Gawain was still reeling from the shock of this revelation. His mind raced with countless questions, and he blurted out, “Wait! You said that god… ‘looked’ here just now?”
He recalled the fleeting image of the illusory dragon wings behind Melita, and the countless eyes hidden within them—at first, he’d thought it was just a trick of the light. But now, from her words, he realized it might be far more real.
Just moments ago, right before his eyes, that god from far-off Talrond had heard someone call His true name—and had glanced this way!
“Yes, a brief gaze,” Melita forced a smile. “Don’t worry, He’s already withdrawn His attention. It’s rare for mortals outside Talrond to speak the true name of a god, so I think it was just curiosity.”
“Even gods get curious?” Gawain muttered, his mind piecing together a tangled web of clues—the golden-haired woman who suddenly appeared before Modir Wilde was none other than that mysterious Dragon God stranded in the mortal realm. She had intervened to help Modir when he was in trouble. Modir had faced a god and come through unscathed—no madness, no mutation—returning safely to the human world. The Dragon God forbade dragons from approaching the towering spire near Talrond, and even in her human form, she showed clear aversion and fear toward it. Yet, despite all that, she chose to help a reckless human and even openly revealed her name to him.
The motives and connections behind all this were baffling. Even with Gawain’s vivid imagination, he struggled to find a reasonable explanation.
As for whether Modir’s records were reliable, or if that golden-haired woman was truly the Dragon God—Gawain had no doubt. Near Talrond, no one would dare impersonate a god, and the name “Enya” was unique among dragons.
His expression shifted several times, brows furrowing deeply as he stared into space. After a minute, he finally exhaled softly.
Putting aside the other mysteries, his greatest takeaway was this unexpected knowledge of a god’s true name. This was the third god’s name he had learned—after the great stag Amorn and the High Narrator Narithil-Duvalet.
But the world’s rules were still shrouded in mystery. He wasn’t sure what power these names held. So far, the only thing he could be certain of was that they acted like “phone numbers” to call the gods—and even then, the call might not connect. And if it did, it might demand the sacrifice of a dragon friend…
He glanced at Melita, who was slowly regaining her composure. Her face looked more normal now, though still weak—that was the price of nearly being sacrificed.
Gawain felt a pang of guilt. He stood and poured her a glass of water, handing it over with concern. “Are you alright?”
Melita took the cup, her gaze locking on his with a complicated expression. “I’m… okay. Thank you.”
He hesitated. “So, shall we continue?”
“If this were any other time, I’d end the consultation and rest for a few days,” Melita sighed softly, shaking her head. “But now… I’m afraid I have to push on. What else does that travelogue say?”
Before Gawain could answer, she waved him off. “No, you’d better not tell me. I want to see it for myself—if that’s alright?”
“That’s fine,” Gawain said, glancing at the well-worn Modir travelogue lying on the desk. Then, worried, he looked back at her. “But are you sure your body can handle it? Some of the things recorded there might be… harmful to you as well.”
Melita gave him a complex look. “I’ll take precautions while reading. Besides, the writings of mortal races don’t carry that much power. Even if there’s forbidden knowledge inside, I can filter it out.”
She had one thought she didn’t dare voice—that no matter how dangerous the book’s contents might be, they were nothing compared to the terror of talking with him…
“Since that’s your decision,” Gawain said, seeing her resolve, “I’ll hand it over.” He flipped to the relevant pages and passed the book to her. “Start here. The next dozen or so pages cover that. Be careful, and if anything feels off, let me know immediately.”
Melita nodded and took the battered old tome. Gawain sighed inwardly—dragons, such a powerful race, yet burdened by the shackles of gods and dark traps. Even a careless word could bring severe backlash. When the weaker races on the earth look up at these mighty creatures soaring through the sky, who would guess that these dragons were flying with chains around their wings?
It was a curse.
He watched Melita take a deep breath and focus on the pages, ready to begin reading. Gawain braced himself for a long wait.
Modir’s account of his Arctic journey was extensive. Even a quick glance would take time, and Melita had to constantly guard herself. It wouldn’t be fast—perhaps…
Just as he thought this, Melita suddenly flipped through the pages with one hand, turning over a dozen pages in less than a second.
“I’m done,” she exhaled deeply, handing the travelogue back to Gawain. “Honestly… if you ignore the dangerous parts, this journal is really fascinating.”
Gawain stared in disbelief. “That fast? You just… finished?”
A faint glow in Melita’s eyes faded as she noticed his surprise. “It’s a speed-reading ability—very effective for dealing with risky texts like these.”
She didn’t explain the details, knowing it might be hard for a human to grasp. In that split second, she had shut down her biological vision and used an optical implant to scan the pages. The text was then processed by an auxiliary electronic brain, which filtered out harmful content using a “risk identification database,” blacking out or replacing dangerous words before sending the safe version back to her biological brain. The whole process was efficient, safe, and didn’t affect her understanding of the travelogue.
Gawain didn’t pry into the secret behind her incredible speed-reading. Instead, he asked curiously, “So, what do you think after reading it?”
Melita pondered, then her expression turned serious. “I want to ask first—what do you plan to do with this travelogue?”
She even used the formal “you,” clearly treating this as a professional matter.
“This book is part of the Cecil Empire’s ‘Knowledge Preservation’ project, which collects and restores scattered ancient knowledge. So the Modir travelogue will definitely be archived,” Gawain replied solemnly, carefully omitting that the book had already been copied and archived. “As for what happens next… most of the knowledge in the project is made public. That’s a basic policy of the Cecil Empire—you probably know that.”
“Yes… universal literacy, knowledge for all… a good system,” Melita said with a hint of admiration, but then frowned and shook her head. “But some ‘knowledge’ isn’t really knowledge. It only leads people astray, chasing things that go against reason. Do you understand what I mean?”
“You mean… that tower that lured Modir inside?” Gawain said slowly. “Yes, I can see it. Modir was drawn in by some force, and you were affected too—you even forgot parts of it. That makes the whole thing even more strange and dangerous.”
“Yes. It’s dangerous. Just knowing about the Voyager’s legacy is a risk. Of course, I’m not saying no one should know—after all, you and the craftsmen who restored this book have seen its contents. But that’s different from making it public. Some things… it’s too soon to reveal.”
Gawain looked into Melita’s eyes. “You mean…”
“As a friend, I suggest you erase the parts about Talrond and that giant tower from this travelogue,” Melita said earnestly, her tone sincere and pleading. “At least until we find a way to counter the tower’s corruption, don’t make that information public. It could tempt more reckless people to take dangerous risks. Our god has already glanced this way—I don’t know how much He knows, but since He hasn’t ‘descended’ further, I take that as permission to give you this advice. My friend, I don’t want to interfere with you or your kingdom by force, but I truly mean this for your own good…”
Before she finished, Gawain nodded and interrupted her. “I understand. I agree.”
Melita looked surprised. “Uh… you agreed very… quickly.”
“I’m not unreasonable,” Gawain chuckled, “and besides, I often deal with some pretty strange and dangerous things myself. I know how tricky they can be, so I understand your concerns. Don’t worry—I’ll make sure to hide those risky items away. You should trust the efficiency of the Cecil Empire’s enforcement, and my personal integrity.”
Melita let out a relieved sigh. “I trust you completely on that.”
She took a deep breath, gripped the armrests, and stood up. “As for now… I need to return to Talrond. This matter has to be reported, and I also have to investigate the gap in my own memories.”
“I understand,” Gawain nodded. “Wishing you all the best.”
He watched as Melita headed toward the study door, but just as she was about to leave, a question suddenly struck him. “Wait, I still have one more question…”
Melita paused and turned back, a puzzled look on her face.
“It’s about the Legacy of the Starfarers—I mean that giant tower,” Gawain said, gathering his thoughts. “It clearly has a kind of ‘corruption’ effect on mortals. I want to know—was this corruption inherent from the start? Or did something cause it to become… twisted? What makes it so dangerous? And are there other Starfarer legacies? Do they carry the same kind of corruption?”
This was something he cared about deeply—because he himself was tightly bound to the Starfarers’ legacy.
The satellite arrays in space, the Sky Station above the equator, and a series of other ancient facilities… all left behind by the Starfarers. Did they, like the tower near Talrond, carry this corruption? If so… Gawain feared he might never be able to rest easy again.
Melita stood silently for a moment after hearing his question. Then, two seconds later, she opened her mouth—and suddenly spat out a mouthful of blood.
The blood shimmered faintly with a strange glow as it splattered across the room. The energy within it was so potent that the carpet and parts of the desk began to emit wisps of corrosive smoke.
Gawain was startled and immediately rushed to her side, steadying the agent who was swaying unsteadily. “Are you okay?!”
“The… limited edition 68,000 with the light ring—it exploded…” Melita looked at him with utter despair, her voice trembling with frustration. “Why… why are all your questions so dangerous today…”
Gawain: “…”
How was he supposed to know?
Melita struggled to her feet, swaying several times before finally steadying herself. After a long pause, she spoke in a low voice, “The corruption… appeared later. Only that tower carries that kind of corruption…”
Gawain hadn’t expected her to answer his question under these circumstances. He felt both moved and shocked, stepping forward slightly. “You…”
“Don’t say another word!” Melita suddenly took a step back, nearly collapsing from the sudden movement. She looked at Gawain with an expression so complex he couldn’t read it. “Sorry, this consultation is over. I need to rest… Please, don’t say anything else. Don’t say a word…”
If she said anything more… it might just blow up again.
(End of chapter)