Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 1146: Chapter 1145: 30th Generation

Duke Balogar stood on the high platform of the Dragon Blood Hall, somberly observing the twenty-two dragon heads arranged on both sides of the hall—those heads composed almost entirely of mechanical structures seemed not yet finished with their previous thought process. They bowed their heads in silence, with only faint and flickering lights moving in the depths of their pipes. The "hissing" sound from the operation of circulation pumps and gas pipes occasionally came from somewhere, one of the few sounds in the hall.

Finally, the lights behind one of the dragon heads brightened, and that head slightly lifted. Under the guidance of mechanical arms, it turned in Duke Balogar’s direction, and a synthesized voice lacking emotional fluctuation came through the speaker: "Balogar, Administrator of the sanctuary, welcome to the Dragon Blood Council."

One by one, the dragon heads awakened from their contemplation. Accompanied by a series of light signals and mechanical sounds, they turned toward Duke Balogar, nodding in greeting.

"Ri An, Councilors," Balogar broke the silence, speaking solemnly, "Regarding the question I asked you to deduce last time, is there a conclusion?"

"Very regrettably, this thought process has been prematurely terminated by the Dragon Blood Council," said one of the dragon heads. "The civilization development trajectory of this era has completely exceeded the historical data reference library. Unpredictable factors have surpassed the threshold. We believe that even if forced to deduce, it is impossible to accurately predict the future direction of the ’Alliance’ and the Dragonkin."

"Moreover," another "Councilor" continued, "We believe there is no longer a need to continue using the Dragon Blood Council for deducing such topics—the Age of Mythology has ended, Administrator; our old deduction modules are no longer suitable for the new situation."

"...I understand. I will seriously consider your opinions," Balogar silently nodded after a two-second pause, "Now, another matter... regarding our gods. It is confirmed that after the fall of the Dragon God, the remaining human nature part has regrouped and regenerated and is now residing in the human realm of the Cecil Clan."

"We are already aware of this and completed the assessment 12 hours ago," responded the dragon head closest to Balogar. "This is a situation beyond all our pre-plans, but from the outcome, it does not possess a threatening nature. The only potential variable is that humans will have the opportunity to access a substantial amount of knowledge regarding gods and chaotic waves... this matter will have a positive inclination. Should we continue deducing based on this thought process?"

"Continue deducing," Balogar immediately said, "We need to judge the possibility of establishing further exchanges with other countries, especially the Cecil Clan... all the variables of this era seem to unfold from that land."

"Understood, the process has been added to the task plan."

The Dragon Blood Hall fell silent for a moment. Balogar stood on the high platform as if lost in thought, while the "Councilors" patiently awaited the next interaction command from the Administrator. After half a minute of silence, Balogar suddenly broke this quiet: "I have no more questions—open the channel to the Nameless Dragon Tombs."

"Understood, the channel has been opened. The council will enter working mode in ten seconds, looking forward to your next visit, Administrator."

The monotonous mechanical synthesized sound echoed in the hall, a slight tremor emanated from below the platform, the lights above the twenty-two dragon heads gradually dimmed. These ancient thinkers, now entirely mechanized, lowered their heads one by one. The hall returned to dimness, with only a strip of light along the central axis of the dome casting cold brilliance, illuminating an inclined downward staircase in front of the platform—that staircase extended downward, with dim light visible in the depths, uncertain how deep it extended.

Duke Balogar descended from the platform, Eugene and Sir Golosh immediately approached his sides. The three did not converse, only exchanged solemn glances, then moved toward the staircase, heading into the underground depths.

On the road leading to the Nameless Dragon Tombs, there were no elevators, only this long staircase, as prolonged as Duke Balogar’s distant memories, or as the long road mortals take from earth to the stars. The surrounding wall material transitioned from polymers to metal, and then from metal to enchanted stone. Ancient and solemn reliefs appeared on both sides of the staircase and gradually covered the roof ahead.

Finally, Balogar stopped in front of a great door. The door stood solemnly in the vast space excavated underground, and its bare surface showed no decorative patterns. Only the ground before the door, illuminated by the glow of crystals, revealed a line seemingly carved with claws: "For those who are dead and those who will die."

The heavy stone door slowly opened under the push of magic mechanisms, a vast underground space appeared before Eugene and Sir Golosh. They followed Balogar inside, entering the most solemn place known only to the Grand Duke of Dragonblood and a few Dragonborn in the Sacred Dragon Kingdom—the Nameless Dragon Tombs.

Massive columns supported this space large enough to fit an entire castle. The stone floor endured countless ages and extended into the distance in their view. High above the ceiling, primitive rock layers protruded many metal columns engraved with magic symbols, where faint electric light and glowing fog quietly moved between the metallic pillars, maintaining the stability of the cavern’s environment and using earth elementals’ blessing to make everything here resistant to the erosion of time. It even prevents the entire mountain from being damaged by geological activities.

And between these enormous columns, one "Stele" after another modeled on dragon bodies stood silently in the dimness. They were tilted and embedded into bases made of huge stones. Behind each base was a dragon sculpture also carved from massive stones — however compared to real dragons, these stone-carved dragons appeared especially thin, weak, and most had physically visible incomplete bodies. As if deliberately made to "differentiate" from true dragons, their forms had been adjusted to resemble some sort of... sub-species.

Sir Golosh’s gaze swept over the nearest "Stele," and on the inclined surface of the stone, there was no epitaph typical to a stele, not even a precise name. Only a few cold letters and digits were deeply etched on its surface: First Generation, 120 thousand years–180 thousand years.

On the adjacent Stele, another line of cold letters and numbers reflected in Sir Golosh’s eyes: Second Generation, 182 thousand years–246 thousand years.

He opened his mouth, seemingly wanting to say something, but Balogar had already stepped forward. Golosh temporarily repressed his words, following closely behind the Grand Duke of Dragonblood, moving deeper into the hall. In silence, they passed through the early generations, as if crossing the old history long lost in memory. Years condensed into hard, coarse bricks beneath their feet, and millennium after millennium receded under their steps.

In the 1,820th millennium, Balogar finally halted his steps. He lifted his eyes, the last Stele still unfinished came into view, deeply engraved with letters: Thirtieth Generation, 1,820 thousand years—.

Behind this Stele, an unfinished dragon sculpture bathed in the dim glow of crystals from the dome, lay prostrate on the earth, raising its head to look at the closed dome above. On either side of its rugged, jagged spine were a pair of malformed, stunted wings.

Balogar stood before the nameless tomb, gazing at the unfinished stele and the dragon sculpture lacking in detail, while Sir Golosh’s voice came from behind him, "The last time we came here... seems like it was ages ago."

"After all, we shouldn’t disturb the peace of these tombs lightly... though there’s nothing behind them," Balogar said softly, "but now, at last, there’s some good news we should bring here."

"I still remember the first time you brought me here," said Sir Eugene Natos, whose hair was white, with a gentle sigh, "real history... back then, I truly felt that real history was like a dream from which one could never awaken."

Grand Duke Balogar remained silent, standing before the tombstone of the thirtieth generation. Beside him, Golosh looked at the blank part of the tombstone and suddenly said gravely, "The Great Shield of Talronde has extinguished, and the gene bank used to restart the Sacred Dragon Kingdom was destroyed in the flames of war. No matter the road ahead for this world, the thirtieth generation may likely be the last of the ’Dragonborn’... Do you think someone will one day carve our final number on this tombstone?"

"Every number here has been carved by my hand. If the day of ending truly arrives, and our efforts finally declare failure, I will carve the final stroke here before saying farewell to this world... but rather than that hopeless conclusion, I hope the tombstone of the thirtieth generation remains forever blank." Balogar slowly shook his head and then turned around, gazing at the path he had walked. He saw those immense, silent tombs stretching in his vision, the twenty-nine Dragonborn generations that had completely disappeared in the real universe turning into lifeless stone sculptures, seemingly silently watching him in the darkness.

They were all the "descendants" he had carefully nurtured and devotedly cared for.

"I often feel a burden of guilt, especially when I look at these nameless steles," said the Grand Duke of Dragonblood, his voice low and smooth, "I abandoned them twenty-nine times... When the chaotic wave came, I let them dissolve into the apocalypse, while I ran away like a coward, and in the next restart, I had to sit high above like a monarch. Isn’t it ironic?"

"... As a member of the thirtieth generation, I fear I cannot answer your question," Sir Golosh gazed at the ancient titan beside him, hesitated briefly, and then said, "But I know one truth... The world offers nothing without cost.

"In the Age of Mythology, the Dragon God and Talronde worked tirelessly to maintain a difficult balance. The existence of Sacred Dragon Kingdom was a long-standing, openly known yet unacknowledged secret. I believe the gods knew about the Dragonborn from the very beginning, even knew of the Omega System’s mission from the start, yet for one million eight hundred seventy thousand years, all this was cautiously hidden on one side of the balance, not crossing a single step.

"In this context, allowing the ’Dragonborn’ into Talronde’s view, even sheltering them by the gods, this wasn’t salvation but complete demise, the demise of all compatriots.

"I am not qualified to judge you or Talronde’s choices on behalf of the previous twenty-nine generations, nor am I qualified to forgive or condemn anything on behalf of them, but I must refute your judgment of yourself—the true coward lacks the courage to return here after restarting the Sacred Dragon Kingdom twenty-nine times.

"Facing their extinction requires more courage than taking them to Talronde seeking protection, Your Majesty."

"Someone once said the same thing as you," Grand Duke Balogar suddenly smiled, "also at this place."

"Really? It’s a pity I never had the chance to meet them," Golosh shook his head and said.

Grand Duke Balogar did not respond, he merely paused in deep thought, then as if speaking to himself, said, "Both of you are right... I shouldn’t be obsessed with this, especially after experiencing such long years. Perhaps any generation can choose to hate or forgive, any individual can choose leniency or anger, but in the face of nature’s great power, all this ultimately yields to the one question... ensuring the continuation of civilization."

Finally, he withdrew his gaze from the tombs and surveyed the entire vast underground hall, where hidden between the dim, ancient walls and pillars lay not just dozens of nameless dragon tombs.

"One million eight hundred seventy thousand years... Our records of observing the chaotic wave and the various failed attempts to protect sanity within it are buried in the archives below, and almost all the data was collected outside Talronde’s environment—it’s a failed answer sheet, but still an invaluable reference," said the Grand Duke of Dragonblood solemnly, "Now the key is... whether our new allies, the Mortal Nations in the alliance, can prepare to face this ’gift’.

"The Dragon Blood Council can no longer assess the reborn ’alliance’, nor can it assess what changes Gawain Cecil’s series of actions will bring to this world, in this epoch, perhaps we should try to make some decisions ourselves," Sir Eugene Natos slowly said, "in my view, since we have decided to join this ’alliance’, we should do things befitting the identity of a member nation."

...

On the boundless ocean, a large fleet was sailing with the wind and waves, navigating an unfamiliar sea never visited by humans.

Aboard the staunch Winter, naval commander Byron, clad in a cape, stepped onto the deck, squinting slightly in the oncoming cold wind. He gazed far ahead, seeing fine waves breaking on the sea surface before the bow, the seawater seeming to come alive, rising to form conspicuous moving water columns. Sea demon Cassandra sat steadily atop one such column, dominating the surrounding waters while turning back to wave at the flagship’s direction.

Byron waved in response toward the sea demon lady, then looked up at the sky—high in the blue vastness, several massive figures were beating their wings, flying forward maintaining the same direction and speed as the fleet, with two Dragon Rider Aircraft circling around the enormous figures, dragon-like propulsion wings high and reflecting the bright daylight.

Those served as the aerial escort dragons for the fleet, along with the two reconnaissance-type Dragon Cavalry aboard the Winter.

"Talronde..." A smile appeared on Byron’s face, and he uttered quietly, as if talking to himself.