Chapter 960: “The Pantheon”
The liquid in the oak cup rippled gently, reflecting the resplendent golden dome of the temple hall and the faint golden light drifting between the pillars and murals. High above the table, Gawain held the oak cup with a faint, almost elusive smile. After a few moments, the “deity” seated opposite him returned the smile.
“Impressive,” it said with a chuckle. “You startled me.”
“Because you startled me first,” Gawain replied calmly. “Especially after witnessing the ‘truth’ above Talrond.”
He paused briefly, then continued, “Even now, having come this far, I can’t guarantee this card I’m playing will work—I can only prepare everything. There are always variables beyond anyone’s foresight. For example… I wasn’t sure how much those falling satellites would intimidate you, nor whether you could directly read memories or alter the commands I sent. My only hope was that a ‘god’ like you couldn’t directly tamper with the Legacy of the Voyagers, couldn’t intercept or rewrite my orders. Judging by the outcome, it seems that hope was well placed.”
As he spoke, he casually reached out and picked up a delicately crafted pastry from the table, popping it into his mouth.
Sweet, but not cloying, with a peculiar, refreshing fragrance.
“Indeed… even knowing your plan, I couldn’t do anything to the Legacy of the Voyagers,” the Dragon Goddess said, lifting the teacup before her and taking a light sip. She looked at Gawain as if chatting with an old friend. “Ensuring mutual destruction, even guaranteeing retaliation if one side is wiped out—an astonishing strategy. You see, those dark cultists’ fear of you is justified. Beneath your radiant, heroic image lies a terrifying mind. I’ll venture a guess—that dreadful way of thinking is connected to your true ‘homeland,’ isn’t it?”
“Something like that,” Gawain replied casually. “But I still think this world is far harsher than my homeland.”
“If I could, I’d love to see what your ‘extradimensional wanderer’ homeland really looks like,” the Dragon Goddess sighed, then shook her head. “But that’s not important. What matters is—if it ever comes to that, would you really choose to destroy Talrond? You must realize by now how devastating those ‘abandoned satellites’ are when they fall. They can obliterate and poison an entire nation, and many within that nation… are actually on good terms with you.”
“That’s why I’m relieved it was only a deterrent,” Gawain said calmly.
“…Good,” the Dragon Goddess stared at him for several seconds before speaking slowly, “Maintain that vigilance and decisiveness. If you’re to deal with gods in the future, that mindset is essential.”
Gawain was silent for a moment, then gathered his thoughts and suddenly looked up at her. “Back at the heart of the Eternal Storm, were the dragons who opposed the ‘pantheon’ not vigilant or decisive enough?”
“They…” The Dragon Goddess hesitated, a complex expression flickering in her eyes. “They were excellent. They did everything right… but they were just too late. They had a chance to succeed, but the civilization’s faith had grown too strong—too powerful to confront directly. And in that situation, their reckless resistance triggered the simultaneous arrival and chaos of all the gods…”
“All the gods arriving and losing control at once?” Gawain frowned. “Then how did these ‘all gods’ become you—the ‘pantheon’? Why did they… merge into you?”
As he asked, a strange feeling washed over him. He was speaking to the very “pantheon” that had once been the dragons’ adversary, the greatest shadow and terror over Talrond’s skies. Yet he sensed the Dragon Goddess was waiting for these seemingly rebellious questions.
“…This is what happens when mortals fail to break their chains,” she said in a low, serious tone, her gaze burning with intensity. “Remember this—no matter the mortal race, they only get one chance. Fail, and they face the same fate as the dragons. When the order of faith collapses utterly, when the conflict between gods and mortals reaches its extreme, and the chains still cannot be broken, this will happen—
“The gods will merge into one. The ‘pantheon’ becomes the ultimate shackle.
“This ‘pantheon’ takes civilization as its name, using all its history, culture, worship, and fear as its framework, drawing power from the minds of every member. The stronger the civilization, the stronger the pantheon.”
…
A terrifying roar and nightmare-like howling jolted many dragons awake in the upper district. Even Andar, the recently fallen asleep Speaker, was roused by the unusual noise outside the hall.
The awe-inspiring ancient dragon lifted his head from the throne tangled with countless pipes and cables. Faint thunder and storm sounds echoed continuously, and nervous inquiries and exclamations from his kin filled his neural sensory interface. Driven by unease, he immediately called out, “Omega! What’s happening outside?”
The Omega interface lit up instantly, accompanied by a synthesized mechanical voice: “Connecting to external monitors… An energy storm is forming above the upper temple. Power levels are still rising.”
On the largest crystal curtain before Andar, a clear surveillance image appeared. The golden upper temple was bathed in a stronger-than-usual pale golden aura. Above it hung a terrifying cyclone—scarlet flames and lightning swirling within, possibly larger than a mountain peak. It spun and spread, emitting deafening roars and howls, growing larger by the second.
Why was such a dreadful natural phenomenon appearing within Talrond? How could this land, protected by the gods, harbor such a thing!?
“Omega!” Andar called urgently. “Why isn’t the weather controller responding?”
“The weather controller is functioning normally. This phenomenon is not on the alert list…” Omega replied swiftly, but its report was interrupted. “Special contact—Speaker Andar, High Priest Helagor requests communication.”
“Helagor?” Andar was momentarily stunned, then recovered. “Connect.”
In the next moment, the Omega interface on the side of the hall was replaced by Helagor’s stern face. Andar turned his head. “Helagor, the upper temple—”
“All is normal. Nothing is happening,” the dragon priest said expressionlessly. “Tell everyone to remain calm.”
Andar’s mechanical eye glowed faintly, the intricate mechanisms twitching slightly. “Helagor, you—”
“Our lord is receiving guests,” Helagor said coldly. “Speaker, nothing is happening—ignore the cyclone. It will dissipate. Tomorrow, Talrond will still have clear skies.”
With that, Helagor ended the communication without waiting for a reply. After a brief static, the Omega interface reappeared on the crystal curtain.
“Speaker Andar,” Omega’s voice pulled him from his daze, “shall I issue a disaster avoidance order?”
“…No, that won’t be necessary,” Andar took a deep breath, shaking his head slowly. “Inform everyone that the weather controller is making temporary adjustments—there is no danger. Nothing is happening.”
“Yes, Speaker.”
…
“I think I heard something outside,” Gawain said, setting down his cup and frowning slightly toward the open balcony at the hall’s end. But perhaps due to the angle, he couldn’t see much of the view.
“Don’t mind it,” the deity opposite him said calmly. “Just some wind.”
“Alright, wind. The winds around Talrond are always strong,” Gawain said, glancing at the deity with a shrug. Then his expression grew serious again, returning to the topic that had nearly made him drop his cup earlier. “The pantheon… so if ‘rebellion’ fails, the gods inevitably merge into one, becoming the pantheon? How exactly does this happen? Is there a principle behind it?”
“You really like to dig into the why,” the Dragon Goddess smiled and shook her head. “Unfortunately, I can’t give you an answer…”
Gawain stared at her. “You don’t know, or you can’t say?”
“Neither,” she said. “Though I am the product of the pantheon’s fusion, I don’t know how it happened. And I believe the truth behind this process surpasses the ‘limits’ of our communication—even between us, some knowledge cannot be easily shared.”
“Alright, I understand,” Gawain nodded with some regret. Then he looked thoughtfully toward the hall’s entrance, where Helagor should theoretically be waiting. “What about Helagor? You know… I saw a dragon in humanoid form at the heart of the Eternal Storm. I believe that was Helagor. Can you satisfy my curiosity about that?”
The Dragon Goddess fell silent.
Just as Gawain thought the question was too sensitive to answer, her voice suddenly spoke: “Since you saw him, you must have noticed he once stood at the center of that battlefield, leading the dragons in resistance against the out-of-control gods… Ironic, isn’t it? Now he is Talrond’s highest-ranking cleric, serving its sole, supreme deity.”
Gawain frowned again, voice low. “So it’s some kind of ‘punishment’? A condemnation from the pantheon? Or… just a cruel joke?”
She shook her head. “Neither. It’s a bargain.”
“A bargain?”
“Mortals choose submission, gods end the judgment,” she said plainly. “This bargain requires a ‘symbol.’ Helagor is that symbol.”
“Just that?”
“Just that.”
“Alright, I see.” Gawain nodded, signaling the topic was closed.
“Perhaps we should talk about something lighter,” the Dragon Goddess suddenly smiled, her tone as casual as discussing the weather. “You and your friends have toured Talrond for three days—I’m sure you’ve seen quite a bit. Now, I want to hear your thoughts.”
“My thoughts on Talrond?” Gawain raised an eyebrow. “You want the truth?”
“If I wanted, I could hear countless ornate, sweet lies—I want the truth. I want to hear your honest evaluation, from you, the ‘extradimensional wanderer.’”
Gawain met her gaze. In those perfect, otherworldly eyes, he saw calm and emptiness.
“Distorted,” he said. “Prosperous but sickly, advanced yet decayed, vibrant and bustling on the surface but lifeless beneath.”
The Dragon Goddess nodded. “A sharp and candid assessment.”
“This is the reality I’ve seen,” Gavain said. “How long has Talrond been stagnant? Hundreds of thousands of years? A million? Maybe only such an unimaginably long standstill can explain everything I witnessed. At first glance, I saw its prosperity and advancement—honestly, it startled me. I almost thought I was looking at some utopian society from a dream. But as I delved deeper, darker and more desolate truths began to emerge…
“Talrond is deadlocked—frozen within the limits of its own technological framework, rigid as stone in its social structure, trapped inside this… sanctuary you call the ‘Eternal Cradle.’ To be frank, watching Talrond felt like staring at a ruin—a ruin that somehow still runs on autopilot.”
By the end, Gavain couldn’t help but sigh. “This land is called the Dragon Kingdom, yet dragons here seem to be the least needed beings. Whether among the common folk or the so-called elite, everyone has become disconnected from the progress of civilization. That’s the reality I saw.”
After much hesitation, he refrained from voicing the phrase that lingered in his mind: “the ultimate stage of capitalism.”
Because, although Talrond’s condition resembled that stage in some ways, he knew the root causes were far more complex.
One of those causes was sitting right in front of him.
The Dragon God remained silent for a long time—so long that Gavain began to worry if He might slam down His cup and summon five hundred axemen at any moment. But finally, after a heavy sigh, He spoke, a look of relief softening His features. “To come to such a judgment, you truly looked deeply.”
“So now, I’m especially curious,” Gavain said quietly, “what exactly are the chains between gods and mortals? How do they work? How do they trap both the divine and the human? Where does their power truly lie? And if we want to break free… where do we even begin? What is the ‘right’ way?”
(End of chapter)