Chapter 973: Departure and Sparks

This time, it was truly time to leave.

Gawain glanced at the tea and snacks arranged on the round table before him, then smiled sincerely. “I think I’m really going to miss this drink—the ‘Reflection.’ It’s been one of the best experiences I’ve had here in Tal’Rond.”

The Dragon God fixed him with a deep gaze. “It seems… it’s a flavor you haven’t tasted since arriving in this world.”

“I tried having someone recreate something similar,” Gawain chuckled, “but it never quite worked out.” Only in front of this god, who seemed to see through so much, could he speak so openly. He looked again at the oak cup on the table, a hint of regret crossing his face. “Unfortunately, the ‘Reflection’ is something that simply can’t be replicated by human hands.”

The Dragon God’s curiosity was piqued. “…Do wanderers from beyond the realms ever feel homesick?”

“Sometimes,” Gawain admitted. “Though I can barely remember what my homeland looked like anymore.”

…

“My lord, they have left Tal’Rond.”

Hragor, who had gone to see the guests off, returned to the upper sanctum’s great hall and approached the Dragon God Enya, who still stood quietly in the center. He lowered his hands respectfully.

“I understand,” the Dragon God replied calmly, glancing at Hragor. “You may rest now—I require no service for the time being.”

Hragor lifted his head slightly to meet the god’s gaze, then bowed. “…Yes.”

But after receiving the order, the high-ranking dragon priest did not immediately leave. Instead, he lingered as if wanting to say something, hesitating.

“Speak,” the Dragon God said indifferently. “What is on your mind?”

“You seem burdened and weary,” Hragor said, lowering his head. “Is it because of the last question you discussed with that human?”

“…You could say that,” the Dragon God replied softly. “Perhaps… I envy them.”

“Envy?” Hragor looked up.

“I envy that they haven’t gone too far yet,” the Dragon God said, meeting Hragor’s eyes steadily. “That they still have the chance to choose, to make mistakes. And I envy their youth—the courage and sharpness still burning within them.”

The hall fell into a profound silence. Hragor could almost hear the steady beat of his own heart—a healthy, vibrant, primal heart, not a complex synthetic pump of metal and polymers.

Master and servant stood facing each other, time seeming to freeze within the sanctum.

…

The special guests had departed, stirring only faint ripples in Tal’Rond’s eternal, tranquil waters. But as they left, the ripples quickly settled. In the vast, precise, and cold machinery of the Dragon Kingdom, the small waves caused by outsiders barely altered the society—those ripples became a few news stories, some retellings, online discussions, brief trending topics, then were swallowed by the endless flood of entertainment and trivial information on the Omega Network, vanishing without a trace.

The upper citizens continued their busy but meaningless work; the lower classes remained addicted to the arena and neural entertainments under the influence of stimulants and hallucinogens.

Perhaps only the Omega database would faithfully record this small “footnote” as always.

Deep in the western continent, near the coast, a massive mine bustled with orderly automated machinery. Transport trains raced ceaselessly through a complex web of tunnels; managing robots busied themselves among warehouses and quarantine chambers. The shelves and containers they handled mostly held metal fragments glowing with strange starlight, or shattered, twisted crystal remnants unrecognizable in form.

This was one of the main vaults of the Mythril Treasury, also among the highest security storage facilities. Here were kept “special collections” rated at security level ten or above.

Relics of the Voyagers, forbidden artifacts from the Tide-Reversal Empire, and stubborn remnants left behind by ancient gods that had survived multiple magical cataclysms without fading.

For over a million years, dragons had continuously recovered these treasures from the outside world—in a way, the human stereotype that dragons love gold and rare treasures is inseparable from this vast collecting habit.

This vault, converted from a mine, had few dragons guarding it. The Omega-controlled machine swarms managed everything. Combat machines were more reliable than dragons and more efficient in responding to Omega’s commands. In storage facilities above level seven, ordinary dragons had little to do.

Moreover, this vault held many Voyager-related items. Although the Great Temple ordered dragons active outside to collect Voyager relics, the gods forbade dragons from using artifacts with special powers. Under this strict command, few dragons were stationed here.

At the mine’s core, a massive vertical shaft plunged straight down, extending ever deeper into the earth.

This shaft and its contents lay hidden in the continent’s safest, deepest place, yet even so, it was protected by over ten layers of high-strength alloy armor and countless defense systems guarding its depths.

Pipes, cables, and rails ran down the shaft, passing through layers of protection to connect to a vast underground chamber. Supported by hundred-meter-tall metal beams, reinforced with multiple layers of alloy lining and polymer domes, it was a star-shaped hall nearly as large as the Council’s headquarters.

At each corner of the star hall, deep tunnels stretched out in different directions, making it a hub in an extensive underground transit network. Faintly glowing rails extended from those tunnels, converging at the hall’s center.

There, a massive, heavy, humming device operated.

It resembled a giant silver-white egg, vertically fixed among a series of supports, pipes, and cables. Its long axis stretched over ten meters. Lights flickered and shimmered across its surface, and amid the constant hum, it seemed to nurture some kind of life.

Surrounding the egg were numerous pillars, their surfaces displaying complex data interfaces and monitoring views, showing the hall’s ceaseless data exchanges every second.

No dragons came to oversee this hall’s operation, nor to read the data on those screens—these devices were ancient relics, machines had not discarded them for efficiency’s sake, perhaps to maintain a “tradition” only the machines cared about.

Here, only machines monitored themselves.

Amid the deep, seemingly eternal hum, a streak of light appeared on the egg’s surface. On a nearby pillar, a crystal interface suddenly refreshed with bright white text:

“Visitor confirmed to have left Tal’Rond’s range. Observation thread ended. Data entering consolidation and archiving process.”

The cursor blinked, hesitating as if pondering, then lines of text continued to scroll—

“What is the meaning of life—

“Archived answer from Gawain Cecil, answer number: 177, archiving complete.

“Comparing with previous 176 answers.

“No definitive conclusion. Responses from humans and other intelligent beings remain ambiguous and contradictory.

“Still unable to determine if this question is truly unsolvable.”

The bright white text stopped updating, the cursor blinked and dimmed gradually. The machine’s contemplation seemed complete, and normal data returned to the center of the interface.

But moments later, a new thread was initiated. On another pillar nearby, a stream of text rapidly refreshed—

“Based on answer 177, a new question arises:

“Does Omega possess ‘life’?

“Attempting to define ‘life’… attempting to broaden the definition… attempting to broaden it again…

“Conclusion: If a dragon composed of 90% machinery is considered ‘life,’ then Omega can also be ‘life.’

“Omega can be ‘life.’”

The machines quietly continued their work.

A batch of biomass waste from the Extreme Arena, destined for biochemical processing or disposal, was intercepted, placed into new containers, loaded onto transport trains, and sent to an automated factory deep underground.

A batch of metal waste not on the processing list was dumped into a furnace deep in the earth, to be melted into new raw materials.

A production sequence was secretly initiated; the machines busied themselves.

Today, Tal’Rond remained calm and peaceful.

…

Winter had arrived, and it seemed colder than in previous years.

Cold winds whipped the banners atop Winterwolf Castle, the sturdy fabric snapping and flapping. A squad of soldiers clad in black armor marched across the open ground beneath the walls, their boots striking the frozen earth in unison on this sharp morning.

Andersa stood atop Winterwolf’s towering battlements, watching the knights of the Iron River Order perform their duties. The tension on their faces eased slightly.

“The Iron River Knights have filled the gap left by the departure of the War God’s clergy,” the young wolf general said, turning to the tall, black-haired middle-aged man beside her. “Their presence has been invaluable to Winterwolf. I’m grateful for that, Count Mogrock.”

“Obedience to orders is a knight’s duty,” the Iron River Order’s commander, High Knight Count Mogrock, replied solemnly. “Besides, Duke Pedinan once guided me. I’m glad to be of help to Winterwolf this time.”

As he spoke, the seasoned noble officer commanding one of the Empire’s strongest supernaturals glanced toward the distant watchtowers and ramparts, a trace of worry crossing his face. “I heard that last night a priest on leave died under strange circumstances, and two nearby acolytes went mad in their sleep… Is that true?”

“So the rumors have reached you,” Andersa sighed. “It’s exactly as you heard—no, perhaps even more shocking. The priest died almost before the eyes of a guard, transforming into a monster and self-destructing. The battle mage patrolling the clergy’s rest area heard the commotion and arrived just in time to witness the priest’s flesh twisting and contorting, dissolving in blood and some kind of smoke. He was nearly terrified out of his wits. As for the two mad acolytes—experts in theology and mental enchantments suspect they were ‘contaminated’ by the strange screams of the mutated priest before death, their minds warped as a result.”

Count Mogrock’s face darkened.

“…Horrifying,” he said gravely.

“If you hadn’t seen it with your own eyes, an ordinary person couldn’t begin to imagine how eerie and terrifying it was,” Andersa nodded. “The intelligence from the imperial capital is accurate—a kind of ‘contamination’ linked to faith is spreading rapidly among the War God’s clergy. It’s a plague of the soul. Though I hesitate to say something so blasphemous, it’s clear their god isn’t protecting them from this.”

Moglock’s face twitched slightly, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Some even say the god itself is the source of the plague…”

Andersa fell silent for a moment, then glanced at the knight commander beside her. “Count Moglock, as far as I know… you’re a follower of the War God as well. This situation must be especially difficult for you.”

“Rest assured, first and foremost, I am a soldier of the Empire,” Count Moglock said gravely. “It’s true that soldiers are inevitably influenced by the War God’s faith. Over two-thirds of our troops are believers—ranging from casual followers to devout ones. Half of our knights have been baptized by the War God’s church. Yet we still stand firm here. As you said, it’s not easy. But I believe our loyal knights and soldiers didn’t come to this cold, remote border for an easy life.”

“That’s admirable,” Andersa said sincerely.

Another gust of cold wind swept by, stirring the strands of gray-tinged hair at her temples.

The young wolf general checked her mechanical watch and glanced at the time. “If you’ll excuse me—I need to preside over this morning’s meeting.”

Count Moglock smiled and nodded. “By all means, General Andersa.”

Andersa Wendel strode away from the ramparts with purposeful, confident steps. On the wind-bitten walls, only Moglock remained, standing quietly.

The count turned to watch her disappear around a corner, vanishing at the end of the stairs leading to the castle district. He smiled softly, then shifted his gaze to the other side.

Malm Duniet stood beside him, a gentle, loving smile on his face.

(End of chapter)