Chapter 950: The Dragon Deity

Helragor quickly noticed Gawain’s gaze, but the dragon priest’s refined demeanor kept any displeasure from showing on his face. He merely stepped aside slightly and asked with mild curiosity, “Is there something improper about me?”

Gawain snapped out of his shock and forced down the surge of astonishment and swirling speculation in his mind. He gave a faint, apologetic smile. “Sorry, you just remind me of someone I once knew—but I’m sure I must be mistaken.”

“Is that so?” Helragor nodded. “The world is vast, and even across the continents of Tal’Rond and Loren, it’s not impossible for faces to resemble one another. If I ever get the chance, I’d like to meet this person who looks like me.”

As he spoke, the dragon priest gestured for them to follow and turned to lead the way. Gawain fell in step behind him, casually adding, “That probably won’t happen—most of the people I knew have been dead for centuries, for personal reasons.”

Sometimes, this “resurrected” persona really came in handy—especially when fabricating lies involving lifespan, time, and old acquaintances. Gawain couldn’t help but reflect silently on how many virtual friends he’d created and lost in the river of time since his own “death and rebirth.”

“Is that so? What a pity,” Helragor said, clearly believing him without question. The priest nodded slightly as he led Gawain deeper into the corridor. “I never leave Tal’Rond, so I rarely meet anyone from beyond. If I offend anyone due to racial or cultural differences during our conversation, please forgive me.”

“But your Common Tongue is excellent, Mr. Helragor,” Veronica suddenly remarked. “On the way here, we heard the true ‘dragon tongue’ of Tal’Rond. That’s when I realized how wildly mistaken humans are in imagining dragons—never even considering that the two races might not understand each other’s languages at all. For such an ancient race as the dragons, the fleeting civilizations of Loren probably don’t speak anything worth learning widely.”

“That’s true,” Helragor replied calmly. “But with Omega’s assistance, learning a new language isn’t difficult. Understanding the mindset of a different race is far more challenging.”

“You said you never leave Tal’Rond?” Gawain glanced at the dragon priest walking just ahead and decided to probe indirectly for information. Though he couldn’t rule out the possibility of mistaken identity, and wasn’t sure if the face he’d glimpsed in the temporal rift of the Eternal Storm was truly this dragon priest’s, his intuition told him this was no coincidence. “Not even once?”

“Is that strange?” Helragor’s steps faltered briefly but then resumed. “Many dragons are like that. Tal’Rond is a rich enough home for us; there’s no need to leave.”

He didn’t answer directly!

Gawain realized this immediately but chose not to press further. He was already deeply suspicious of the chaotic temporal rift at the heart of the Eternal Storm, and even more wary of tampering with that experience before uncovering the truth behind it. For now, he decided not to dig any deeper.

Gawain fell silent. Veronica was naturally quiet, and even Amber, usually so talkative, was unusually subdued in this unfamiliar environment. The journey ahead was marked by an awkward silence—but thankfully, it didn’t last long. After passing through a corridor and boarding an elevator that Gawain could only describe as a “hall,” they finally arrived at their destination.

The sanctuary atop the Council’s headquarters—the divine palace of the gods—the Upper Temple.

Stepping off the elevator platform, the trio first reached an open-air bridge. From here, they could see almost the entire temple. The breathtaking sight struck them all at once: a magnificent building crowned with a dome and supported by hundreds of columns, standing quietly and sacred beneath the starry night. Divine light poured forth from the temple, mingling with the northern lights. Faint, indistinct songs and hymns drifted on the breeze, so subtle yet so pure that even Amber, usually so carefree, felt her soul stirred.

“So beautiful…” Amber couldn’t help but sigh, her eyes reflecting the temple’s glow, a smile spreading across her face. “It’s like… like stepping right into the stars. Whoever designed this place must really love the stars, right?”

Gawain noticed that the moment Amber spoke, Helragor, who had been standing silently, shifted slightly. Then the high priest broke the silence. “On the contrary, the deity does not like the stars.”

“Huh? Really?” Amber blinked in surprise, apparently not catching the significance of the pronoun “the deity.” “But this building looks like it was made just for stargazing… Look at those terraces and windows. Even if they weren’t originally designed for it, they’re perfect for watching the stars…”

“Alright,” Gawain interrupted, “like you’re some kind of architecture expert. We’re just guests here, not critics.”

“But… fine,” Amber shrugged, glancing at him. “Your call.”

“Forgive her; she just likes this place,” Gawain said, turning back to Helragor. “Please, lead the way, Mr. Helragor.”

The dragon priest nodded expressionlessly. “Follow me.”

Guided by the high priest, Gawain and the others crossed the long bridge and entered the golden hall with its dome and splendid columns. A soft, bright light filled the building inside and out—gentle, never harsh. They passed through the grand doors and over a small bridge adorned with flowing water, finally stopping in a circular hall.

The vast chamber held only one throne, raised high in the center, as if bearing endless radiance and glory. Before the throne stood a figure with golden hair trailing to the floor.

The Dragon God, Enya.

A deity stranded in the mortal world.

Veronica’s senses sharpened the moment they entered the hall, bracing herself against the expected spiritual contamination from a god. Yet, when she faced the dragon deity directly, no such assault came. Surprised, she found herself staring longer than she intended. The deity was dignified and graceful, with a face so flawless it seemed the limit of mortal imagination. She wore a pale gold gown that looked like silk but was far smoother and more lustrous. The dress bore few decorations but could not conceal the radiance befitting a goddess. In that brief eye contact, even Veronica—the leader of the rebels—felt a thought rise unbidden:

Truly… perfect as a god.

As Veronica’s gaze rested on the dragon god, the deity’s eyes met hers. A faint smile appeared, and Enya nodded gently before shifting her gaze to Gawain.

“You have finally come,” the deity broke the silence, her voice unexpectedly soft. “The mortal I have invited twice… just this alone has brought me more surprises than all the human civilization of this season combined.”

“Is this an interrogation?” Gawain chuckled. Though he had been tense entering the hall, his outward composure remained calm. Enya had not triggered any instinctive alarms—perhaps a good sign.

“No. You may consider it praise. For me, the unexpected is far rarer than having everything under control.” The dragon god smiled, then, to Helragor’s astonishment, stepped down from the throne’s platform at a leisurely pace. The throne itself vanished inch by inch into thin air. When she reached Gawain, the entire dais and throne had disappeared.

“I thought a face-to-face conversation would ease the atmosphere—and help you relax,” Enya said, then did something utterly unexpected: she extended her hand with a smile. “A handshake—this is the latest custom in the mortal world, yes?”

The atmosphere turned awkward. No one had expected such warmth from a god stranded among mortals. Gawain hesitated, then after two seconds, steadied himself and reached out.

His fingers touched Enya’s—softer and warmer than he’d imagined, almost human.

Then, suddenly, a strange sensation surged through him. He instinctively looked up—and saw the dome of the hall turn transparent and ethereal. A murky, chaotic, twisted cloud rapidly gathered, blotting out the stars. Within that filthy, chaotic mass, he once again glimpsed the indescribable horrors he had seen over Tal’Rond’s skies:

Countless frenzied, contorted limbs fused in nightmarish forms—writhing flesh, glowing crystals, pale bones intertwined across the heavens. Eyes embedded in the twisted flesh stared coldly down at Tal’Rond’s lands. Corrupted starlight flickered among the chaos, and illusory flames consumed the sky.

His heart skipped a beat.

Then, scanning the vast, terrifying, nightmare-shaped structure, Gawain noticed a detail he hadn’t seen before during his distant view over the ocean outside Tal’Rond.

Amid the tangled, distorted limbs, a vague outline emerged.

His gaze swept from one end of the sky to the other, and beneath him, he finally saw it—the chaotic mass was stitched together into the shape of a colossal dragon.

A dragon larger than the continent of Tal’Rond itself—grotesque, twisted, terrifying, yet somehow filled with anguish. It crouched over the ancient, prosperous land, its wings blotting out the sun and sky like a cage or a barrier. Countless black chains, like strands of hair, extended from its body, hanging thick as a forest, reaching both earth and sky.

For any ordinary person witnessing this—madness would be instant.

Even Gawain himself, witnessing the scene from this vantage point and distance, immediately felt his inner world thrown into turmoil—though it wasn’t some kind of “unspeakable spiritual corruption” or “divine taint of forbidden knowledge.” It was simply the raw visual shock and mental strain that left him gasping for breath.

Yet, fortunately, it was only a matter of visual and psychological pressure. A wandering soul, once suspended alone in the void for a million years, whose mind had long since warped, could still endure this.

Struggling against the weight pressing on his psyche, Gawain finally tore his gaze away from the terrifying vision and looked up at the Dragon God standing before him.

The Dragon God remained there, calm and gentle in expression. She held Gawain’s hand, and behind her stretched countless pitch-black chains, twisting and tangling in the air, climbing upward until they became part of the “mad, chaotic dragon” itself.

Those chains bound the Dragon God—but the Dragon God also bound the chains. The chains were part of her, and she was part of the chains.

Everything was one whole.

As if a sudden realization flooded his mind, Gawain felt he understood it all. Then, in the next moment, he sensed that warm, soft hand release his.

And just like that, the otherworldly vision vanished into thin air.

“Hey, are you okay? You just froze up all of a sudden,” Amber’s voice came from beside him. For some reason, hearing her voice made Gawain’s heart suddenly ease—the last lingering pressure and suffocating weight lifted. He took a deep breath, calming the frantic pounding of his heart.

“I’m fine,” Gawain replied softly, a trace of exhaustion in his voice.

“You saw it,” the Dragon God Enya’s voice sounded, her gaze fixed on him. Her tone remained gentle, but her eyes were terrifyingly profound. Those pale golden irises seemed to hold countless truths, yet when Gawain looked closely, he saw only emptiness.

He nodded calmly. “I saw it.”

“I’m surprised you could resist it so easily—just a few breaths, and you’re fine,” the Dragon God said lightly. “I had prepared many contingencies.”

“Luckily, my mind’s still tough, and my heart’s strong enough not to keel over after seeing something scary,” Gawain said, surprised he still had the energy to joke. “So… what exactly did I see?”

“It was me—obviously, wasn’t it?” Enya suddenly smiled, and the heavy, tense atmosphere in the hall instantly dissipated. Then she shifted slightly, raised her arm, and waved gently.

A silver-white round table appeared out of nowhere, adorned with countless intricate cutouts. Several ornate chairs inlaid with gemstones materialized around it, and delicate tea snacks were laid out on the table.

“Now, we can sit and talk. Everyone, relax,” the ‘goddess’ invited. “Today, it’s just a casual chat.”

(End of chapter)