Chapter 963: The Echoes of the Reverse Tide

This is the “lock” that binds mortals and gods alike.

The rules of this world are even harsher than Highlord had imagined.

Now, at last, he understood why Melita had suffered such agonizing, near-breakdown reactions whenever she confided in him about the Reverse Tide and the gods. He finally grasped the true mechanism behind it all—he had once thought it was simply a punishment the dragon gods imposed on every dragon, but now he realized that even the exalted Dragon God was merely a prisoner within this system of rules.

The gods are both the chains and the captives, even the executioners themselves—and this entire “prison” is forged from the faith of mortals.

The Dragon God noticed Highlord’s thoughtful silence and asked with a hint of curiosity, “What are you thinking about?”

“I was just thinking about Melita,” Highlord replied. “She told me some ancient things, and only now do I realize how much risk she took in doing so.”

“Ah, Melita…” The Dragon God nodded thoughtfully. “She left a deep impression on me. It’s rare to see such complexity in a young dragon—her boundless curiosity, her powerful creativity, her passion for action and exploration. Raised in the Eternal Cradle, yet as vibrant as any being from the outside world… The Council is an ancient and closed organization, but to see such change among its younger members is truly… interesting.”

Young, ambitious members emerging from an ancient, insular council…

Highlord suddenly thought of Melita’s origins—how she and her “colleagues” were born in factories and laboratories, corporate-customized employees.

He reined in his drifting thoughts and steered the conversation back to the Reverse Tide Empire. “So, after the Reverse Tide Empire, the dragons never interfered with the outside world again… but the aftermath of that event seems to have lasted until today? What exactly is going on with that giant tower northwest of Talrond?”

“You already know much about how gods are born and operate,” the Dragon God said calmly. “You must realize that in this world, a sufficiently powerful collective consciousness can ‘project’ onto certain objects, causing a ‘deification’ phenomenon. That giant tower northwest of Talrond… it was originally a relic of the Voyagers, and the place where the dragons once guided the ‘First Enlightened’ of the Reverse Tide Empire to receive their ‘inheritance.’”

“Inheritance?” Highlord immediately seized on the word. “You mean using the unique properties of the Voyagers’ relics…”

The Dragon God nodded. “Yes. The Voyagers’ legacy holds the power to record data, impart knowledge and experience, and influence the cognitive abilities of living beings. With proper guidance, it’s possible to roughly choose what knowledge and experience are passed on. The dragons spent some time doing just that, then brought the Reverse Tide Empire’s finest scholars and thinkers to that tower.

“The experiment was successful. They created a group of individuals with extraordinary intelligence—though mortals could only access a fraction of the knowledge from the Voyagers’ inheritance, it was enough to alter the course of a civilization’s development.”

Highlord guessed what came next. “So the Reverse Tide Empire came to regard that tower as a ‘divine’ sanctuary?”

“…The dragons underestimated the volatility and shortsightedness of short-lived species, and misjudged the greed of that civilization,” the Dragon God sighed. “Those who returned from the tower used their inherited knowledge to rapidly strengthen the Reverse Tide Empire, but they also made themselves absolute theocratic rulers—the terrifying, uncontrollable faith that followed originated from them.

“Through a series of propaganda, the tower in the Arctic region became a sacred site where gods bestowed blessings. Over time, it was even said to be the earthly dwelling of a god. In just a few hundred years—which is but a blink of an eye to dragons—many generations of the Reverse Tide Empire passed, and they began to worship the tower, building a complete mythology and system of worship around it. So much so that when the Reverse Tide Rebellion broke out, the fanatical followers shouted slogans like ‘Reclaim the Holy Land’—firm in their belief that the tower was their sacred site, and that the dragons were heretics who stole the gods’ blessings…

“In that sense, the tower was the root cause of the Reverse Tide War. If the fanatics succeeded in corrupting the Voyagers’ legacy into a true ‘god,’ then this world would have no future.”

Highlord sighed. “I’m not surprised. For short-lived species, a few hundred years is enough to completely rewrite and embellish history, let alone overlay it with the demands of divine authority. So, the Reverse Tide Empire’s deification of the tower actually gave birth to… what exactly?”

“Perhaps we can call it the ‘God of the Reverse Tide,’” the Dragon God said lightly. “Hundreds of millions of people in the Reverse Tide Empire believed that a god dwelled in that tower, bestowing blessings. So the god was born in response to that collective consciousness, and the Voyagers’ tower was thus tainted by divinity… It’s quite ironic.

“The only consolation is that the ‘god’ born in the tower never fully formed. Before the situation became irreversible, the Reverse Tide Empire was destroyed, and the ‘gestation’ process inside the tower failed at the last step. So while the tower mutated and became corrupted, it never developed true intelligence or the ability to act independently. Otherwise… Talrond today would be a hundred times worse than what you see.”

“So the Voyagers’ legacy isn’t completely immune to divine corruption,” Highlord chuckled. “At least now we know it’s not entirely effective against internal contamination.”

“Perhaps… To this day, we still don’t know exactly what changes occurred inside that tower, nor the true state of the ‘God of the Reverse Tide’ born there. We only know the tower has mutated, become extremely dangerous, and we have no way to deal with it.”

Highlord frowned. “Even you can’t cleanse the divine corruption inside the tower?”

“I cannot approach the Voyagers’ legacy,” the Dragon God shook its head. “And the dragons cannot oppose ‘gods’—even external gods, even the God of the Reverse Tide.”

“That’s also a ‘lock’?!”

“That is also a ‘lock.’”

Highlord suddenly felt a sharp toothache. Since uncovering the truth about Talrond, this wasn’t the first time he’d felt this way. “So you’ve just been leaving that tower right outside your own doorstep? Just like that?”

“No choice,” the Dragon God said frankly. “At least keeping it in sight lets us monitor it constantly. If that tower were elsewhere in the world, that would be the real danger. The faith of the Reverse Tide Empire causes the tower to strongly propagate knowledge outward. If left unchecked, it would spawn countless Reverse Tide Empires, countless uncontrollable divine disasters worshipping the Voyagers.”

The Dragon God glanced at Highlord suddenly. “So, are you interested in visiting that tower? Perhaps you wouldn’t be affected by it—”

“No, thank you,” Highlord said without hesitation. “At least for now, I’m not interested.”

He was joking, of course. That was a genuine Voyagers’ relic mutated by divine corruption—divinity, mutation, Voyagers—all the biggest dangers in this world combined. Recklessly entering it would be like signing his own death warrant. Highlord knew he had some resistance to divine corruption, but that came from the Voyagers themselves, and this tower was a corrupted Voyagers’ relic. Whether his resistance would hold was anyone’s guess.

More importantly—he could use the “Abandonment Protocol” to intimidate a rational Dragon God, but he couldn’t threaten a “God of the Reverse Tide” that seemed barely sentient. That kind of entity couldn’t be fought or reasoned with, and held little research value for him. Why risk his life?

Ultimately, his curiosity about the Reverse Tide Empire was mere pastime, not a pressing need—for him, it wasn’t even as important as the soda in his cup.

He lifted the oak cup filled with “Reflections” and took a long sip to steady himself.

At one moment just now, another thought had flickered through his mind—what if he targeted the tower with the “fall coordinates” of certain satellites and space stations? Could he destroy it once and for all?

But the idea vanished as quickly as it came, dismissed by Highlord himself.

Because he wasn’t confident—he couldn’t guarantee those orbital facilities would fall precisely on the tower, nor was he sure how effective it would be to smash a Voyagers’ relic with other Voyagers’ relics.

Regarding the former, even before departure, when simulating the orbital decay of those ancient satellites using the Celestial Station’s system, Highlord found their landing errors were terrifyingly large. The outdated systems and energy shortages caused significant deviations. Though the tower’s base might be as large as an island, the satellites could easily miss and crash somewhere else in Talrond…

That was why Highlord used defunct satellites and stations to threaten the Dragon God, but never considered deploying them in the complex political landscape of Loren Continent—too many uncontrollable variables. Dropping them on Talrond was simpler; the dragon kingdom was vast, so wherever they fell, the effect would be guaranteed. But on Loren, with its many nations and tangled powers, a misfired booster could land on his own side. Besides, the destructive power was immense—impractical for conventional warfare.

As for the latter… that was even more worrying.

Using Voyagers’ satellites to smash a Voyagers’ tower—if it blew to dust, fine. But what if it didn’t work, or worse, cracked the tower open and released whatever was inside? Who would take responsibility?

After much thought and weighing the risks, Highlord suppressed the urge to “drop a satellite for the noise,” forced a serious expression, and continued sipping his soda with deep contemplation.

The Dragon God watched him quietly, perhaps sensing his thoughts, or maybe pondering the possibility of enlisting this “extramundane wanderer” to help deal with the tower. But in the end, it said nothing.

The topic of the Reverse Tide Empire and the tower seemed to pass into silence.

The awkward quiet stretched for a full two minutes before Highlord suddenly broke it. “The Voyagers… what exactly are they?”

“I thought you knew well,” the Dragon God lifted its gaze. “After all, your connection to those relics is so deep…”

“I only accidentally established contact with those relics when I first arrived in this world,” Highlord said frankly—he had rarely encountered such candid conversations in all his years here, and never expected the first to open up fully would be a “god.” “I’ve coexisted with them for many years, but from those fragmented databases, I’ve found no description of the Voyagers themselves.”

The Dragon God’s gaze lingered on Highlord’s face for a few seconds, as if judging the truth of his words, then it smiled faintly. “The Voyagers… were mortals too.”

“Mortals?” Highlord’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Yes, mortals—even those incredibly powerful, even those capable of destroying gods…” The Dragon God spoke calmly, “they still call themselves mortals, and they insist on it.”

“Alright… a race that, no matter how strong they become, insists on calling themselves mortals,” High Valin nodded thoughtfully. “So then? How did they come to be?”

“That was in a far more ancient age—so ancient that the dragons were just one among several mortal races on this planet. So ancient that multiple civilizations and their own distinct pantheons still existed here…” The Dragon God’s voice drifted softly, as if carried across the vast river of history, tinged with weariness and memory. “The Voyagers came from the depths of the cosmos, establishing observation posts and outposts on this world…”

“From the depths of the cosmos?” High Valin’s surprise deepened. “They didn’t evolve here?”

“Of course not,” the Dragon God shook its head. “Their homeland lies far beyond, in an ancient star system they called the ‘Exile.’”

“Exile?” High Valin frowned. “That’s an odd name… So why did they set up observation posts and outposts here? For supplies? Research? At that time, this planet already had several civilizations, including the dragons—did those civilizations have contact with the Voyagers? Where are they now?”

“They all left with the Voyagers—only the dragons remained.”

“Why? I… don’t understand.”

“Because by then, the dragons had already strayed too far down the wrong path. They lacked the means to leave. The Voyagers… had to keep moving forward. They had their own mission and couldn’t stay behind waiting for the dragons.”

Seeing the deeper confusion on High Valin’s face, the deity smiled faintly and refilled the cup on the table.

“We still have some time—I haven’t spoken about the Voyagers in a long while,” the voice softened. “Let me start from the beginning and tell you about them—a truly incredible group of ‘mortals.’”

(End of chapter)