Chapter 968: The Beginning of a Turning Point

For a full thirty seconds, Gawain and Melita simply stared at each other—he silent and stunned, she calm but inscrutable.

His face was a mixture of shock and confusion; hers, a quiet blankness.

Finally, Gawain was the first to break the silence. His mouth twitched involuntarily as he pointed at Melita’s pale lavender hair. “Dragons don’t have hair, do they? You’re…”

“Our human form is just a magical illusion,” Melita said matter-of-factly, gesturing to her head. “A spell can make me look however I want—I happen to like this look. My true form is that of a great dragon. I have scales, not hair.”

Gawain blinked, then muttered, “Well, that actually makes sense…”

Melita seemed pleased with his reaction and added kindly, “Looks like your friend will be disappointed—Talrond doesn’t have anything like the products or technology you’re after. If you want to get technical, the closest we have is scale polishing, dyeing, and implantation—basically a form of cosmetic enhancement. If your friend doesn’t mind, they could try implanting a layer of scales on their scalp. There are many colors to choose from, and it would protect the scalp from sword slashes and stabs.”

Gawain stared at her, unable to detect even a hint of joking in her tone. She was clearly serious. Yet, his mind conjured a bizarre image of a “scale-scalp Solderin,” and he shuddered, shaking his head. “No, no. He’s already… well, bright enough as it is.”

Thinking it over, Gawain admitted the idea had some appeal. From a purely practical standpoint, having a synthetic scale layer making one’s head impervious to blades would be invaluable. A true warrior wouldn’t mind such an enhancement. But the problem wasn’t logic—it was whether Solderin would accept it.

Realizing his thoughts were veering into strange territory, Gawain decided to drop the subject.

“We’ve been stuck in Talrond for several days now,” he said suddenly. “Maybe it’s time we left soon.”

“Already?” Melita’s eyes widened in surprise. “You could easily stay longer—Talrond doesn’t often get visitors.”

“But Cecile can’t function properly without the emperor for long,” Gawain shook his head. “We’ve been away from Loren continent too long. All good things must come to an end.”

“All good things must come to an end… Interesting phrase. The Cecilians say their emperor is a master of language who creates many wonderful sayings. Seems there’s some truth to that.” Melita blinked and smiled.

Gawain didn’t need to ask to know this was connected to someone’s secret compilation of the “Emperor’s Sacred Words.”

Clearing his throat, he continued, “Though we’re planning to leave, honestly, there’s still much I don’t understand—about the magical tides, how dragons resist them, and that mysterious signal we once received. You remember I asked you to investigate whether it was connected to Talrond? Now I think a place with such deep knowledge as Talrond must know more about that signal. But I can’t just ask your gods directly.”

Melita’s expression grew serious. “Because those things easily involve specific technologies.”

“You can’t get technical knowledge from the gods. If possible, it’s best not to ask at all,” Gawain nodded. “I don’t mind asking the Dragon God about ancient history or secrets unrelated to human society—we can treat those as stories. But the magical tides and that signal? I dare not ask.”

“These questions… I’d have to get approval from my superiors before I can discuss them with you,” Melita hesitated, then said slowly, “But there is something I can tell you—why Talrond has survived wave after wave of magical tides.”

She paused, then pointed upward.

“You probably guessed it—the Talrond Great Shield. Our greatest defensive barrier. It’s the key to the dragons’ survival through the magical tides.”

Talrond Great Shield…

Gawain rubbed his temple. He had suspected the dragons’ resistance was linked to that shield, but it didn’t explain one thing—

“Even if the Great Shield protects all life on Talrond during the tides, how do you adapt to the world outside once the tides pass? I’m not talking about the minor tides that Gondor experienced, but the great tides that reshape the entire world,” he frowned. “After a great tide, the world’s magical laws reset, and much matter becomes alien. Yet you emerge from the shield and survive just fine… Is it only because dragons have such powerful bodies?”

Melita’s eyes flickered strangely. She stared at Gawain for a long moment before asking uncertainly, “I want to know—who told you that after a great tide, the world’s magical laws and much of its matter change?”

Gawain sensed something off in her tone and grew serious. “That was information from the sea witches. Like you, they’ve observed this world for millions of years. Cecile’s ties to the sea witches are even closer than to Talrond. So all our knowledge about the great and minor tides, the Black Trap, the Reverse Tide, and so on came from them. Are you saying… the sea witches lied about the great tide?”

“No, they didn’t lie. That’s truly how they see the world. The tides do turn everything upside down. But I think your understanding…” Melita’s expression twisted oddly. Mid-sentence, her face suddenly paled. She dropped her cup and clutched her chest in pain, her words replaced by low groans and gasps.

Gawain jumped up. “Are you alright?!”

After a long, labored breath, Melita steadied herself against the bar and looked at him, pale and conflicted. “I never expected that even chatting casually at home with you would end like this…”

Gawain: “So just now…”

“The gods warned me… not to continue this topic with you,” Melita said weakly. “Sorry, I can’t help you.”

Gawain’s expression darkened. Though she’d only said half, it stirred something deep inside him. He felt as if he’d grasped a thread, and his thoughts raced. Seeing Melita’s agonized reaction to the divine warning made him realize the importance of what lay beneath this topic.

Could humanity’s understanding of the great tide be flawed? Was the sea witches’ intel incomplete? Was there a new breakthrough waiting in the study of the tides? Where would it come from—the dragons’ technology, or the sea witches’ knowledge?

His breath quickened. Melita steadied herself, then apologized, “I can’t stay. I need to go for… a health check.”

“I should be the one apologizing,” Gawain said sincerely as he rose. “If I hadn’t spoken recklessly…”

“No one can predict when the chains will suddenly tighten around their neck, or when the walls will rise. The dragons have long grown used to it,” Melita gave a pale smile. She swayed as she turned to leave, then paused and looked back at Gawain. After a moment’s hesitation, she said, “Though I can’t continue this conversation, I think… the gods are trying to remind us of something.”

“Remind us?” Gawain asked thoughtfully.

She took a deep breath. “They don’t want you to get direct answers from me. That means the answer is… very special, very important. Perhaps it must be solved by you alone, without outside help.”

With that, she closed her eyes briefly and slowly walked toward the door.

Her last words echoed in Gawain’s ears: “When I return, I’ll try to review the follow-up data on those signals I reported last time. With you as a ‘guest,’ maybe my superiors will approve my request.”

Melita left, leaving Gawain alone in the vast room. His brow furrowed and relaxed repeatedly as he paced slowly, lost in thought.

…

The gods had gone to rest. Their avatar vanished from the resplendent temple, retreating to a higher-dimensional state beyond mortal perception.

Yet Heragor remained, standing respectfully before the throne, hands folded, awaiting orders.

He knew that though the gods had departed, their gaze never left—countless eyes watched ceaselessly over this ancient land. Under divine scrutiny, every dragon must live cautiously. As a high-ranking dragon priest, he was bound to remain here until the scripture’s appointed time.

He stood for an unknown length of time until finally fulfilling the required vigil.

The gods still rested, and the next summons might be far off. The dragon priest was momentarily free.

Heragor lifted his head and strode out of the temple hall. His steps were steady, but a faint glow began to envelop him. He walked into the light, and in the next moment, he arrived deep within the ornate palace where the Upper Council convened.

Council Speaker Andal awoke from a half-sleep as Omega’s voice echoed in his mind: “Speaker, High Priest Heragor requests an audience.”

Andal’s mechanical eye contracted slightly. In a low voice, he said, “…Connect him.”

“High Priest is not online—he is outside your door.”

Andal was fully alert now. His head moved slightly, and the cables and tubes linking it to his body emitted faint pumping sounds. Two seconds later, he spoke: “Very well. Let him in. No other visitors for now.”

The mechanical doors to the “Throne of Minds” hall opened automatically. Heragor stepped inside and looked up at the aged dragon on the platform before him, whose body bore numerous mechanical augmentations. He nodded slightly. “Glad to see you remain in good health, Speaker.”

“High Priest, it’s rare for you to come to the Council headquarters in person instead of sending messages through the Omega network,” Andal’s implanted components flickered with soft light as his voice echoed through the hall. “Is there something important you must deliver personally?”

“The gods are resting. They have issued a decree to suspend this century’s patrols of the ancient continents of Kaldor and Mor. The planned expeditionary teams are disbanded and remain on standby in Talrond.”

“Why?” Andal couldn’t help but ask.

“No why,” Heragor replied calmly. “Just carry out the order.”

Andal’s gaze fixed on Hragor, lingering for several seconds before he finally looked away and spoke in a low voice, “…I understand.”

Yet the high dragon priest who had delivered the “divine oracle” did not leave. He remained standing quietly in place.

“Is there anything else?” Andal couldn’t help but ask.

“There is a second matter—”

Hragor said calmly, then reached into his chest and produced a small talisman. It was forged from an unknown metal, its silvery surface shimmering with tiny points of light. Yet it seemed almost intangible; its edges flickered with a faint translucence, as if it hovered just beyond the grasp of reality. Rather than a physical object, it looked more like a projection forcibly pulled from another dimension by some mysterious power.

The moment Andal saw the talisman, his breath caught involuntarily. Then, in the next instant, he watched as Hragor crushed the “talisman projection” without hesitation.

“Hragor! You—” The Speaker blurted out, his upper body jolting violently. The countless pipes and cables connected to him clattered loudly, and even the crystal curtains around the hall, displaying streams of data, rippled chaotically with countless distorted waves.

“The second matter,” Hragor repeated, “is that for the next three minutes, we will be beyond the sight of the gods.”

The last fragments of the talisman dissolved completely into the air.

Andal sat high upon his throne of the mind, motionless like a statue, his eyes fixed on Hragor standing below.

For the first time in over a million years, he felt his heart pounding fiercely once again.

(End of chapter)