Chapter 945: Reality or Illusion

Gawain stood deep within the vortex, surrounded by this cold, silent, and eerie world that remained frozen beside him, as if untouched for millions of years.

A lone human, insignificant as a speck of dust on this battlefield.

He lifted his gaze and saw colossal dragons circling a towering metal spire in the sky, forming concentric rings. Flames, frost, and crackling lightning emitted by the dragons hung suspended in the air, all distorted and warped against a backdrop resembling shattered glass—a sphere enclosing this strange realm.

Were those dragons still alive? Had they perished in the true course of history, or were they somehow frozen in this fragment of time and space? Or perhaps they still lived somewhere beyond, carrying memories of this battlefield, surviving in some distant place?

Suddenly, a flood of emotions and speculations surged within Gawain’s mind. Yet, the unease of his current predicament left no room for such distant thoughts. He forced himself to stay calm, focusing first on maintaining composure, then searching this bizarre “battlefield ruin” for anything that might help him escape.

This frozen time-space was clearly unnatural. The raging core of the Eternal Storm could not have naturally birthed such an isolated pocket. Its very existence implied some force was sustaining this place. Though Gawain could not fathom the principles behind it, he reasoned that if he could find the “anchor point” maintaining this space, perhaps he could alter his circumstances.

He had no other options.

Clinging to this faint hope, Gawain steeled himself and continued seeking a path closer to the metal spire at the vortex’s heart.

The ruins and illusory flames layered around him, but there were gaps—paths he could cautiously navigate. The waves and debris at the vortex’s center formed a complex, three-dimensional labyrinth. He had to be careful not to lose himself completely.

As he pressed forward, he glanced back at the massive “attackers” arrayed around him.

These enormous beings, as large as hills and varied in form, each bore powerful symbolic features. They stood like awe-inspiring statues, frozen mid-attack around the still vortex. Though motionless, their terrifying, ferocious postures radiated an oppressive aura—endless malice and near-mad aggression. Gawain didn’t know why these attackers and the dragon guardians had waged such a brutal war, but one thing was certain: this was a merciless, no-turning-back battle.

He had a vague inkling of who these attackers might be—he had some experience in such matters—but without proof, he refrained from drawing conclusions.

If he could reach Talrond safely, he hoped to find answers there.

After a brief pause to gather his thoughts, he refocused and pressed on toward the vortex’s center.

He spotted a possible clear route—a steel beam extending from the armored plating on the metal spire’s side. It seemed to have once been part of a support framework but had been shattered by the attackers’ assault. One end still connected to a platform on the tower, while the other had collapsed into the sea, not far from Gawain’s current position.

The beam was wide and sturdy enough to serve as a bridge, allowing him to reach the very heart of the vortex.

After weaving through the frozen flames, solidified waves, and hardened wreckage, Gawain confirmed his chosen path was sound. He arrived at the submerged end of the “bridge” and looked ahead along its broad metal surface—the way to the metal spire was now unobstructed.

Before stepping onto the beam, Gawain steadied himself and focused his mind. He first attempted to communicate with his satellite body and the Sky Station, confirming both connections were intact. Though he was currently in a “blind spot” beyond their monitoring range, this at least gave him some reassurance.

He then turned his attention back to his surroundings, searching for anything else that might resonate with him—another relic left by the Voyagers, an ancient facility, or perhaps another Eternal Stone tablet.

He remembered how he had fallen here—after suddenly sensing the resonance of a Voyager relic within the eye of the Eternal Storm and hearing those “verses.” Now that he was inside the storm’s eye, if his earlier perception was not an illusion, he should find something here that resonated with him.

Maybe that was the key to changing his fate.

After several minutes of intense concentration, Gawain’s eyes snapped open.

He indeed felt it. As he had expected, the resonance came from ahead, from the direction of the metal spire—the very center of the vortex, the frozen time-space, and the entire Eternal Storm.

Without hesitation, Gawain stepped onto the steel beam connecting the sea to the spire and sprinted swiftly toward the tower’s upper levels.

With the path clear, crossing this seemingly long ramp took little time. Even slowing slightly to focus on the faint resonance, he soon reached the other end of the metal framework—near a protruding structure on the tower’s exterior. The massive metal skeleton was broken in half, the fallen section resting on a platform encircling the tower’s outer wall. This was as high as Gawain could reach on foot.

He jumped down from the bridge-like beam onto the slightly tilted platform, maintaining his awareness of the resonance as he curiously surveyed his surroundings.

This colossal metal construct was the most intriguing part of the battlefield. Though it looked like a tower, Gawain was certain it had nothing to do with the Voyagers’ “towers.” It lacked their style and gave him no familiar or resonant feeling. He guessed it might have been built by the dragons circling above, something of great importance to them—hence their desperate defense—but what exactly was its purpose?

He reached out to touch the steel shell beside him. It was icy cold, the material unknown, but the technology required to build it was far beyond current human civilization. He scanned the area but found no entrance to this mysterious “tower,” so he couldn’t explore inside.

Moving to the platform’s edge, he peered down—a dizzying view, but familiar to someone used to looking from great heights.

Below, the frozen vortex came into view, along with shattered debris and raging flames sparked by the fierce battle. The seawater in the vortex was murky and blurred from violent turbulence and war pollution, making it hard to discern the submerged portion of the metal spire. Still, he could faintly make out a massive shadow beneath the waves.

The underwater section was likely larger than the part above the surface, spreading outward in a more complex structure.

Perhaps this wasn’t truly a “tower” at all—the part above water was just a protrusion. Its full form might never be known.

Frowning, Gawain withdrew his gaze and speculated on the dragons’ purpose for building this. Among his guesses, the most plausible was that it was some kind of weapon.

The thought of what such a weapon might be used for made Gawain chuckle wryly to himself.

“Could it be an intercontinental nuclear missile launch tower…” he muttered under his breath.

Given the dragons’ massive size, building something that large for a missile might not be so far-fetched.

This little joke eased some of the pressure and tension weighing on him—after all, he was human, and it was natural to feel stress in such a situation.

With his emotions steadied, he focused again on pinpointing the source of the Voyager relic’s resonance.

Judging by his senses, it was very close—perhaps within a hundred meters.

He walked along the platform surrounding the spire, scanning carefully for anything suspicious. After passing a support pillar that blocked his view, he suddenly stopped.

There it was—a figure standing motionless at the platform’s edge.

Gawain’s nerves instantly tensed. This was the first “human” figure he’d seen here. But then he relaxed slightly, realizing the figure was frozen in place, just like everything else in this space.

He gripped his Pathfinder sword tightly and cautiously approached. The figure remained unmoving even as Gawain closed to within three meters.

It was a tall, upright middle-aged man. Though his body was tinged with the same dull, bluish hue as everything else here, Gawain could still make out his ornate, imposing robe. The garment bore intricate, non-human patterns and was adorned with mysterious metal or gemstone ornaments, signaling his special status. The man himself had a noble, perfect face, short hair that was once golden but now dulled, and a pair of resolute golden vertical pupils that stared unwaveringly into the distance.

Vertical pupils?

Gawain immediately noticed this detail and realized this seemingly human middle-aged man was actually a dragon in human form.

He had seen similar features on Melita—though her eyes looked human in normal form, under certain conditions (like when Gawain asked her a loaded question that caused slight loss of control), her eyes would reveal vertical pupils.

Gawain steadied himself. Though surprised to see this figure, he was now certain—the unique resonance was indeed emanating from this man, or perhaps from an object he carried.

After a closer look, Gawain’s gaze settled on a small, unremarkable amulet in the man’s hand.

It radiated a strong sense of familiarity. Even frozen in time, faint shimmering light flickered across its surface. Without a doubt, it bore the unmistakable mark of Voyager heritage.

Gawain furrowed his brow. After a moment of careful thought and weighing his options, he slowly reached out his hand, preparing to touch the amulet.

He wouldn’t rashly snatch it from the other person’s grasp, but at the very least, he had to try to establish a connection with the amulet—to see if he could draw any information from it that might help him make sense of the situation before him…

…

The goddess seated on the holy throne suddenly opened her eyes. Her vertical pupils, glowing with radiant light, seemed to churn with storms and lightning.

The high-ranking dragon priest standing vigil beside the throne immediately felt an indescribable divine pressure. Struggling to keep his body upright, he dropped to his knees, forehead nearly touching the ground. “My Lady, what has happened?”

Enya’s gaze fell upon Helagor. In just two seconds of her stare, his soul was pushed to the brink of being torn apart. Yet the goddess withdrew her eyes in time and took a gentle breath.

The light surging in her eyes was forcibly quelled.

Helagor heard the divine voice echo in his mind: “It’s nothing—go prepare for the welcoming ceremony. Our guest is drawing near.

“I entrust everything to you. I must leave for a while.”

As the words faded, the goddess’s presence swiftly vanished. Helagor looked up in confusion, only to see the empty throne and the faint golden halo lingering above it.

…

The chaotic play of light and shadow before him twisted and reformed wildly. The sudden flood of voices and information crashing into Gawain’s mind nearly overwhelmed him, threatening to snatch away his consciousness. But soon, he felt the unwelcome intruders being rapidly purged from his thoughts. His mind and vision gradually cleared.

Within seconds, he regained his ability to think clearly. Instinctively, he tried to pull his hand back—he still remembered reaching out to touch the amulet, and how the moment he made contact, a torrent of disordered light and overwhelming information had assaulted him.

But just as he was about to withdraw his hand, Gawain suddenly realized the surroundings seemed to have shifted.

He faintly heard the distant sound of waves and wind, and in the now-stabilizing view before him, a dim dawn light was rising on the horizon.

Amber’s cheerful voice came from beside him: “Wow! We’ve made it to the other side of the storm!!”

(End of chapter)