Chapter 959: Delving Deeper

As the pale golden light before him faded away, High Lord Gawain realized he was no longer standing atop the mountain overlooking Argondor. Instead, the grand upper sanctum of the temple stretched out before him—its walls adorned with magnificent murals shimmering in gold and its stately columns radiating an imposing splendor.

The corridor leading to the temple’s main hall extended ahead, flanked on both sides by temple guards who stood as silent and motionless as statues. Beside Gawain stood the High Dragon Priest, Heragor, whose powerful magical aura was gradually subsiding.

“That just now was some kind of spatial teleportation?” Gawain asked, surprised as he looked at the high priest. “You’ve mastered the art of warping space and time?”

“That is the domain of the gods,” Heragor replied gently. “I merely imitate it clumsily.”

Gawain nodded thoughtfully. “So the dragon clergy borrow their power from the gods as well.” Then he glanced down the wide corridor ahead. “Can we just go straight in?”

“Yes, please follow me,” Heragor said, stepping forward and leading Gawain down the hall. But this time, he stopped at the entrance to the main hall. “I’m afraid I cannot accompany you any further.”

Gawain raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Don’t you need to stand by your deity’s side?”

“This is a ‘private’ meeting,” Heragor said with meticulous formality. “High Lord Gawain Cecil.”

Now this was getting interesting…

A strange feeling and a flicker of suspicion stirred in Gawain’s mind. He said nothing more, stepping past the priest who stood guard at the door, boldly crossing the threshold of the massive, open double doors. These doors were adorned with colossal reliefs over ten meters high, golden inscriptions, and forged from some unknown material.

Soft, comforting light bathed the sacred hall. It was as empty as the last time he had visited—save for a ring of columns and crystal draperies hanging from their capitals, the space was almost bare. At the center stood not the usual throne of the deity, which had been removed, but a silver-white round table.

On the table were refreshments, and two chairs stood nearby. The Dragon God Enya was standing before one of the chairs, her expression gentle as she gazed toward the entrance.

Gawain approached the table and took a quick glance around. To his surprise, the vast hall truly held only himself and Enya—this so-called private meeting was exactly that, with not a single attendant or guard in sight.

He couldn’t help but chuckle and tease, “Such a spacious place, and it’s just for two ‘people’ to talk. Isn’t that a bit of a waste?”

The Dragon God smiled faintly. “If you feel uncomfortable, I can change this place—make it look like any room you’re familiar with.”

“No need,” Gawain waved his hand. “It’s better to have some space. We can speak openly.”

Enya paid no mind to his oddly phrased pun. She simply nodded and then looked into Gawain’s eyes. “Since this is our first private conversation, perhaps I should properly introduce myself.”

She extended her hand toward him, her voice low and gentle. “I am Enya, protector of Talrond, the Dragon Gods.”

Gawain looked at the hand before him but didn’t immediately respond. Enya’s voice echoed softly in his ears, causing his eyes to widen slightly. Amid his surprise and astonishment, a deeper sense of confirmation settled within him.

“The Dragon Gods.”

Since crossing the Eternal Storm, countless theories and speculations about Talrond had swirled in his mind, but now one had been confirmed.

Enya kept her hand extended patiently, showing no sign of impatience. When she saw Gawain lost in thought, she casually remarked, “It’s not good manners to keep a lady waiting.”

Snapping out of his reverie, Gawain hesitated briefly before lightly grasping her soft, warm fingers. After a polite handshake, he quickly withdrew his hand—and during this, he saw no trace of the “fractured dragon” illusion that had appeared before. It seemed Enya had deliberately suppressed it this time.

“Do gods really have genders?” he asked curiously, glancing at her again. “Even if gods have genders, do the ‘gods’ as a whole have genders?”

“In most early religions of various civilizations, the role of ‘protector’ is often associated with a maternal figure,” Enya said softly. “Of course, this is not absolute—but for me, the role of ‘mother’ is more fitting.”

Gawain settled into his chair, and a large oak cup was automatically filled before him. The liquid inside gently rippled, reflecting the golden dome of the temple and a partial reflection of Gawain’s face.

He looked at the deity before him. “So, you—the ‘mother’—are essentially a fusion of many gods? What I saw earlier… was some kind of…”

He faltered, unable to find a gentle or tactful way to express the thought swirling in his mind. Enya seemed to notice and smiled slightly, speaking casually as if it didn’t matter.

“Don’t hold back. Say whatever comes to mind. Since this is a ‘private’ conversation, we can speak more openly. Whatever you want to ask or say, feel free.”

This was an open invitation. Gawain immediately understood Enya’s attitude toward this meeting. Though he wasn’t yet sure what she was thinking, he felt considerably more at ease.

“Then I’ll be direct—I saw a strange, patchwork-like monstrosity floating above Talrond. You admitted it was you, and now you claim to be the ‘Dragon Gods.’ So I can boldly speculate: the dragons once, like us humans, believed in many gods, each overseeing different domains. But due to ‘some reason,’ all those gods became part of that patchwork monstrosity—the so-called ‘Dragon God.’ Is that correct?”

“An almost perfect deduction. That’s nearly the whole truth,” Enya said calmly. “Except for one detail—you called it ‘some reason.’ You already have an idea about that, don’t you?”

Gawain’s brow twitched ever so slightly. He was beginning to piece together some key points. After a moment’s hesitation, he decided to speak.

“Yes, I do. It comes from what I saw when crossing the Eternal Storm—I saw a battlefield at its center, a battle between dragons and the ‘gods.’ Though I didn’t recognize the massive attackers, my intuition told me they were the dragon gods. Strangely, after leaving the storm, only I remembered this; Amber, Veronica, and Melita have no recollection…”

“That was done with good intentions,” Enya said. “Witnessing such things is harmful to mortal minds. Erasing memories and removing traces is meant to cleanse the spiritual contamination they suffered.”

Gawain’s hand rested beside the oak cup, his gaze fixed on Enya. “So… it really was you who intervened back then.”

Enya nodded calmly. “Indeed.”

“Then why didn’t you erase my memories as well?” Gawain asked curiously. “Or did you deliberately leave them intact just to talk about this today?”

“…I tried, but failed,” Enya said, hesitating briefly before giving an answer that surprised Gawain. “In fact, I tried six times.”

Gawain blinked.

“You didn’t even notice a god trying to wipe your memory,” Enya said slowly. “When I realized I was facing an endless, boundless sea of memories that was constantly repairing and reorganizing itself every moment, I knew it would be impossible.”

Gawain’s expression grew serious. “What else did you discover?”

“Rest assured, I did not pry into your memories—I have no authority to do so. Even if I did, I doubt I could find anything useful, or guarantee my own safety in the process,” Enya chuckled. “After all… you are closely linked to the Voyagers, and no god wishes to confront the legacy of the Voyagers head-on.”

Gawain’s hand trembled ever so slightly as he held the oak cup—he knew that the slightest quiver would not escape the eyes of a ‘god.’

“What else do you know?” he asked, looking up.

“Not long after your ‘resurrection,’ I noticed changes in the human world,” Enya said with a faint smile, her expression seemingly unchanging. “You brought many things to this world, much of which exceeded the developmental stage of mortal society at the time, and beyond the knowledge and experience the ‘real Gawain Cecil’ could have possessed. Though you’ve tried hard to appear as an ordinary human, to me… it’s not quite enough.

“I have many clues, but I don’t need to share them all with you. Here, I simply want to greet the ‘real you’ as the Dragon Gods—Dragon Gods salute you, Outlander from Beyond.”

“Outlander from Beyond…” Gawain chuckled. “That was originally just a phrase to scare off dark cultists…”

“But not entirely fabricated,” Enya said with a half-smile. “And it’s quite fitting to describe a foreign soul who came from nowhere, arrived for unknown reasons, and with unknown purpose, isn’t it?”

“…It seems the connection between dragons and the Voyagers runs deeper than I imagined.”

Enya said nothing in response. Instead, she appraised Gawain with a scrutinizing gaze and asked with curiosity, “There’s something I’ve been wondering—though you have some connection to the Voyagers’ legacy, you still inhabit a fragile human body. No offense, but I could crush your current form with a single finger. Yet you accepted my invitation, abandoned the vast empire you just built, and came to Talrond with only two meager ‘guards.’ Aren’t you worried the dragons might harbor ill will, or that I, as a ‘god,’ might have malicious intent?”

Gawain took a sip from the oak cup, then raised an eyebrow. “You were the one who extended the invitation—twice, in fact.”

“An invitation is one thing; showing up is another,” Enya said, clearly not satisfied with a perfunctory answer. “By all logic, your current status in the mortal world means you shouldn’t act so recklessly. From a cautious standpoint, both Talrond and the ‘Dragon Gods’ are unknown factions to humanity. Given your knowledge of gods, you should have a natural hostility toward me. So I’m even more curious—what confidence do you have to come here to Talrond under such risky circumstances?”

The gaze of the “Dragon Gods of Talrond” fixed on Gawain, those pale golden eyes brimming with unimaginable power. With each breath, Gawain could feel the very upper sanctum trembling ever so slightly.

He had no doubt that this “deity” truly possessed the power to kill him in an instant—after all, it had existed in this world for far too long. The dragonkind had thrived here for ages, and the god of Talrond had grown incomprehensibly powerful. Its strength was something no mortal force could hope to resist.

Except for the “Voyagers.”

“Do you have a reason to strike?” High King calmly met Enya’s subtle pressure.

“Yes—simply by having any connection to the legacy of the Voyagers, you are a natural threat to the gods. And right now, you are in a state where you can be easily eliminated. Many gods would choose to remove such a threat under these circumstances.”

“Then I’ll assume you do have a reason,” High King said, setting down his oak cup and leaning back comfortably in his ornate golden chair. His eyes drifted upward, as if gazing through the vaulted ceiling at the dazzling Arctic night sky. “But you should know—the Voyagers’ legacy spans the entire cosmos. Some orbital facilities even pass over the North Pole. At any given moment, at least three gravity-anchored satellites and a large gravity-anchored space station watch over Talrond… and many more unanchored installations sweep past the skies above Talrond every twelve hours.”

“…So that’s your so-called ‘trump card’?” The Dragon God frowned, then shook its head with a hint of disappointment. “I had higher expectations. Do you think I’m unaware? Those facilities you mentioned have long since run out of power. Aside from the Celestial Dome, the Voyagers left only hundreds of cold tombstones in space. Your trump card is a bunch of powerless ‘gravestones’?”

“They do indeed lack offensive capabilities. Their main power sources are offline, self-repair functions have collapsed, and they now rely solely on backup power to maintain orbit,” High King said calmly. “No matter how many satellites and stations float above Talrond, none can fire a single shot at the surface…”

He paused briefly, a faint smile curling at the corner of his mouth. “But what if they fall?”

The Dragon God’s gaze finally turned serious.

“There is one command that can still be executed even when those facilities are nearly out of power, because it runs on backup energy,” High King said, lifting his oak cup again. The drink inside had been refilled, and he smiled with satisfaction, clearly pleased. “The ‘Decommission Protocol’—used to safely retire space facilities that have exceeded their service limits. Before setting out, I programmed Talrond as the target for the fall of twelve satellites and three space stations. Once the protocol activates, the Voyagers’ legacy will rain down from the sky. Tell me—can Talrond’s great shield stop that?”

“…Even if meteors fall, the great shield remains intact. But if the Voyagers’ legacy crashes down… the shield cannot withstand it,” the Dragon God said, seeming to hold its breath for several seconds before breaking the silence. “Some dangerous devices and residual weapons inside those satellites and stations will detonate upon impact. Toxic substances will poison the entire ecosystem. Countless dragons will perish. And I will not hesitate to protect them—even if it means I am gravely wounded, or even fall.”

It exhaled deeply, fixing High King with a solemn gaze. “Alright, I admit—that’s a strong card. But are you really confident you can issue the decommission command in time? Perhaps… I could destroy you before you even react, preventing you from giving the order. Or I could interfere with your mind, making it impossible for you to issue the command accurately. I can act very quickly—faster than the reflexes of your mortal body. Have you considered that possibility?”

High King raised an eyebrow.

He set down the oak cup (which did take some willpower), then pulled a mechanical watch from his pocket and glanced at the time.

“You’re mistaken about one thing,” he said. “I don’t need to issue the decommission command—I already did.

“Before crossing the Eternal Storm and setting foot on Talrond’s continent, I ordered the decommission process to begin for every space facility on the list. The twelve satellites and three large space stations have long since started executing the protocol. I simply gave them a twelve-hour final confirmation countdown.

“And what I’ve been doing these past days is pushing that countdown back every twelve hours.”

(End of chapter)