Chapter 972: The Dragon God’s Final Question
A sudden surge of magical energy nearby snapped Highlord Gawain from his thoughts. He quickly followed the sensation and saw layers of pale golden rings materializing out of thin air. At the center of the rings, the figure of the High Dragon Priest Helagor gradually solidified from a shimmering apparition into solid form.
The Dragon Priest completed his teleportation and stepped down onto the terrace, approaching Gawain directly.
“Mr. Helagor,” Gawain said with mild surprise at the unexpected visitor, “we just met yesterday—seems the Dragon God has something else to discuss with me today?”
“He wishes to see you immediately,” Helagor replied bluntly. “If you’re ready, we can depart at once.”
Before Gawain could respond, Amber and Veronica arrived on the terrace. They noticed the High Priest’s sudden appearance, and Amber looked surprised. “Hey, isn’t that the High Cleric?”
“Another invitation,” Gawain smiled, nodding to them. “You two wait here with Melita. I’ll be back soon.”
After a brief word with Amber and Veronica, Gawain returned to Helagor’s side. A persistent unease gnawed at him, so he wasted no time and soon vanished from the terrace alongside the Dragon Priest’s teleportation spell.
After the familiar sensation of spatial displacement faded, the shimmering light dissolved before him. He found himself atop the mountain, inside the upper sanctum. Helagor stood silently beside him as the corridor stretched straight ahead toward the grand hall.
At the corridor’s end, the spacious, ornate hall appeared unchanged. The round table and refreshments for guests remained set in the center. Standing quietly by the table was the golden-maned Dragon God Enya, her gaze calm and gentle as it rested on him.
This time, Helagor did not wait outside but followed Gawain into the hall, naturally taking his place just behind and to the side of the Dragon God, standing like a devoted attendant.
Gawain approached the round table and gave a slight nod of respect to the deity before him. He settled into a seat, but before he could ask anything, the Dragon God broke the silence.
“You should return to the continent of Loren.”
Gawain blinked, startled. The words sounded like a brusque dismissal, but he quickly caught the meaning behind them. “Something’s wrong?”
The Dragon God did not answer directly, only saying softly, “You have your duties… and they are needed there now.”
Almost instantly, Gawain felt the unease that had plagued him since last night confirmed. An impulse to leave Talrond immediately surged within him. The deity across from him seemed to have anticipated this, offering a faint smile.
“I will arrange for Melita to escort you back to Loren. But there’s no need to rush—we still have time. At least enough for a few more words.”
Gawain suppressed his urge to depart and reasoned that if the situation on Loren had truly deteriorated, the Dragon God wouldn’t have invited him here for a leisurely conversation. The very fact that he was summoned instead of being instantly teleported back suggested there was still some breathing room.
Curious, he asked, “What shall we discuss today?”
“Only one thing,” the Dragon God’s gaze fixed on him. “I want to talk about… the final fate of mortals and gods.”
“The final fate of mortals and gods?” Gawain frowned. “You mean…”
The Dragon God’s eyes grew serious as they met his. “We already know several possible futures for mortals and gods on this world—the Ascendants choosing to destroy all rogue deities; civilizations in the Black Trap destroyed by their own gods; unfortunate peoples succumbing to natural disasters like the magical tides, perishing alongside their gods; and finally, the eternal cradle of Talrond.
“Gawain Cecil, wanderer from beyond the stars, these are all I have witnessed in the past 1.87 million years—the full range of mortal and divine destinies on this endlessly entwined spiral. But now I want to hear your view. Do you believe there is another future—one no one has ever walked before?”
Gawain’s hand paused over the oak cup on the table.
This was an unexpected question, and a difficult one at that. He doubted there was a definitive answer—if even gods could not foresee the course of civilizations, how could he?
Yet the Dragon God looked at him with genuine expectation, an almost surprising eagerness for an answer.
Perhaps the deity truly believed this “wanderer from beyond” might offer insight beyond the harsh rules of this world.
Gawain lifted the oak cup, tasting the liquid within as his thoughts slowly cleared. He wanted to answer seriously, and after some reflection, an answer began to take shape.
“Gods are not omniscient or omnipotent, and neither am I,” he said, meeting the Dragon God’s gaze. “So I cannot accurately predict or paint a clear picture of the future. But perhaps we shouldn’t try to fit everything into a rigid framework. The relationship between gods and mortals, their future—it shouldn’t be ‘fated,’ nor should there be a predetermined stance or ‘standard solution.’”
The Dragon God looked puzzled. “I don’t understand.”
“Specific cases, specific analysis, freeing our minds, and seeking truth from facts,” Gawain explained, voicing thoughts he’d long pondered but only now could articulate clearly. “Since the existence of gods is an objective fact, their birth and operation are objective realities. We cannot treat this dogmatically; we must respect the natural laws governing it.
“The Ascendants chose to destroy all rogue gods because the circumstances demanded it. Civilizations in the Black Trap perished with their gods because of natural laws. But no natural law dictates that all gods must follow one path, nor is there evidence that the laws we know are the entirety of this world’s rules.
“Amorn the Great Stag destroyed his own divinity through the ‘Falling of the White Star’ and has since severed his ties to faith through a kind of living death—he can be considered successful.
“The magic goddess Mylmina abandoned her divinity and reshaped herself through non-directional thought currents; she too is close to success.
“There is a newly born god called the ‘Upper Narrator’ who, after a series of complex events, has also broken free from the chains…
“These examples may be unique and unrepeatable, but their very existence proves one thing: there is indeed another path.”
“That is my view—gods and mortals can be enemies or coexist; they can clash or find balance under certain conditions. The key is to achieve this through reason and logic, not dogma.
“I am neither an Ascendant nor a rebel of the old Gondor Empire, so I do not believe all gods must be destroyed. On the contrary, as I learn more truths, I have come to respect gods—even…”
He hesitated briefly. “Because no matter the outcome, throughout the long history from ignorance to civilization, gods have always sheltered mortals—like your first story, the slow-witted mother is still a mother.
“But on the other hand, I must prioritize mortal survival. So when faced with gods who cannot coexist, with ‘mad gods’ out of control, we have only one choice…”
Gawain paused. The Dragon God appeared thoughtful, then broke the silence.
“So you neither want to end the myth nor maintain it; you reject both opposition and simple coexistence. You want to build a dynamic system that adjusts in real time to reality, replacing fixed dogma. And you believe that even maintaining coexistence between gods and mortals, civilization can still progress…”
“Amorn still lives, but druidic technology has nearly overturned half the classic dogma. Mylmina lives, and we are researching ways to break traditional spellcasting through external neural systems,” Gawain said. “These are small steps, but since they can be taken, it means the path is viable—”
“Only temporarily viable,” the Dragon God said quietly. “Have you considered that this balance is fleeting and fragile in the eyes of gods? Take your examples: if people rebuild druidic or magical faiths, reconstructing worship systems, these currently successful ‘transgressions’ will abruptly end…”
“Even if Amorn and Mylmina fall completely, as long as mortals rebuild faith, new nature and magic gods will arise,” Gawain said without hesitation. “So the key isn’t the gods—it’s the people.”
“An interesting perspective,” the Dragon God said slowly. “How do you intend to solve this ‘key is the people’ problem?”
“By enlightening the masses—that’s what I’m doing,” Gawain answered firmly. “Replacing ignorance with reason is the most effective method right now. If everyone in the world understands the nature of the chains before they form, then the chains cannot take hold.”
“That’s easier said than done,” the Dragon God suddenly laughed, but there was no mockery in the sound. “You know, you’re not the first to think this way.”
Gawain said nothing, simply watching the deity.
“The last to realize that awakening the masses could counter the chains was a leader of the civilization two epochs ago. Before that, about a million years ago, a philosopher tried to combat the chains through universal enlightenment. And there were four—or five—other remarkable mortals who, like you, grasped certain ‘principles’ and tried to spark change through action…
“But unfortunately, none succeeded.”
Gawain listened quietly. These were secrets unknown to all but a few ancient beings, unimaginable to mortals of this age. Yet, in a way, it was not unexpected.
One million eight hundred seventy thousand years—there would always be brave souls rising one after another, wise men and heroes.
Perhaps Gawain’s calm demeanor surprised the Dragon God, who paused before continuing.
“So, do you think you will succeed?”
“I want to clarify one thing first—did they fail because the path itself was flawed?”
“I don’t know. None reached the end. They started too late, so no one witnessed the final outcome.”
“So the path still exists,” Gawain smiled. “Someone has to walk it. Maybe other paths exist, but mortals are limited in strength and wisdom. We can’t try every path, only choose one to attempt. I choose this one. If it succeeds, great. If it fails, I hope others will have the chance to find another way.”
The Dragon God regarded Gawain silently, and Gawain met the divine gaze in kind.
“This surprises me,” the Dragon God finally said with a smile, shaking His head. “At first, I thought you would choose the path of the Voyagers… You have a close connection to those legacies, and you’re the most likely to draw power from them, maybe even call that mighty fleet back. Yet, in all your thoughts, those legacies never once appeared.”
“The Voyagers have already left—whether they’ll return or not, I’d rather assume they won’t,” Gawain replied calmly. “They were… indeed powerful, powerful enough to inspire awe among the mortals of this world. But to me, their path might not be suitable for any other race besides themselves.
“I did consider tapping into those legacies for strength, but after learning what happened 1.87 million years ago, I realized something—
“Some things, once missed, are missed forever. In the end, mortals can only rely on their own strength. We have to carve out our own path.”
A faint, sacred glow hovered above the hall, accompanied by ethereal echoes drifting in from some distant place.
The Dragon God smiled but offered no further comment or question. Instead, He simply gestured toward the pastries on the table. “Have some. You won’t find these anywhere outside of Tal’Rond.”
Gawain didn’t refuse. He sampled a few of the unfamiliar cakes before standing.
“I should be going,” he said. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
“I’m glad to have had the chance to talk like this,” the elegant and beautiful deity also rose. “I can’t even remember the last time I had such a conversation.”
“Actually, it was just yesterday,” Gawain thought mischievously, wanting to tease the god. “With me.”
For the first time, the Dragon God was taken aback.
Then, in the next moment, He laughed—a genuine, joyful laugh, so different from the sacred yet distant, gentle yet aloof smiles before.
(End of chapter)