Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 1195: Chapter 1194: Invitation and Meeting

Master Modir is an unbelievable person, and in recent times his name has become truly resounding among the adventurer parties operating outside the camp—of course, the main reason is his feat of blasting an elemental lord to bits with seventeen terrifying Spells, but there is another reason that has greatly boosted the old man’s fame: several rounds of tireless promotion by Lora and her companions after they returned to the camp.

Of course, in the eyes of the young huntress, most of the "promotion" has come from her rather unreliable companions—she herself is, naturally, honest, trustworthy, cautious in speech, low‑key and thorough.

And in the stories told by those unreliable companions, the deeds of the old Mage Modir have already slowly escalated from "seventeen Magic blasts to slay an elemental lord" to "shattering a giant of flame with a single Forbidden Curse," then further escalated to "throwing out one Fireball Technique and leveling the entire valley (the giant of flame included as a side note)," and the latest version goes like this:

During the encounter, the old Mage Modir let out a furious roar, casually cast a Flash Spell, then grabbed his Magic Wand and charged straight in to smash the elemental lord into powder. Immediately afterward, he rushed into the Elemental Rift, rampaging through the world of fire elementals and slaughtering without number. After sweeping clean the whole lava plain, he shoved the Prince of Fire Elementals’ head into a magma river, gave him a thorough beating, then calmly walked away, sealing the Elemental Rift in passing (and taking the door with him on the way out)...

Naturally, no one dares believe this latest version. It was born after an adventurer once drank himself into an extremely serious stupor, and serves as full proof of a time‑honored maxim among adventurers: the more you drink, the grander the scene, the earlier you pass out, the better your skills.

But no matter how bizarre and outlandish these many versions of the rumors get, at least on one point the adventurers in the camp have reached consensus: the old Mage Modir is strong, a powerhouse who commands the respect and awe of everyone in the camp—although his identity card still reads "Class level to be determined" to this day, almost everyone firmly believes that this eccentric old man has already reached Legendary.

As for why such a powerful Legendary Mage would be willing to mingle among adventurers... the old Mage’s own explanation to the outside world is "for the sake of adventure," but basically no one in the camp believes that. Countless speculative versions of the "secret behind this" have already been circulating in private, and every time a "person in the know" passes out drunk in the tavern, several new versions will spring up.

Does the powerful Mage Modir know about these rumors and idle gossip? He probably does. Lora may not have had much contact with powerhouses of this level, but she doesn’t believe that this rabble in the camp, with their supposedly "private" chatter, could possibly hide anything from the perception of a Legendary. Yet the old Mage has never voiced any opinion on the matter. He always bustles about cheerfully, greeting everyone, going to register, to hand over tasks, to exchange supplies and make new friends just like any ordinary adventurer, as if immersed in some vast joy he cannot extricate himself from—just like now: face full of delight and curiosity, watching the strange sights of Crystal Rock Hillock together with the other adventurers.

After a brief rest, several adventurer teams were reassigned and began performing patrol and guard duties in the open ground around Crystal Rock Hillock. The Dragonkin warriors accompanying them started installing various facilities and magical devices they had brought from New Argondale on this commanding height—Lora looked toward that "hillock," and between the jagged crystalline rock pillars she saw blinding flames spouting up from time to time. That was the dragons welding sturdy alloy plates with Dragon Breath. First they would erect several interlocking defensive walls at this new gathering point, then within the walls they would set up basic energy stations, Barrier Generators, and high‑power communication devices. It shouldn’t take too long.

In fact, there had originally already been a temporary communication station on Crystal Rock Hillock: before this safe corridor was opened, a Dragonkin vanguard composed of elites had flown directly over the plains crawling with monsters and Elemental Rifts, setting up a small communication tower and energy site on the summit, maintaining communications between Agondale and the West Continent outpost with great difficulty. But the temporary station’s output was limited, resupply was hard, and at any moment roaming monsters might cut it off from the main base. That was why New Argondale later dispatched follow‑up teams: to open up this route and attempt to establish a true camp at this location.

Modir and Lora walked side by side, and he would lift his head from time to time to look at the sky, his gaze sweeping across those turbid cloud layers. The polar day over this land was coming to an end; the night sky that would last for half a year was about to shroud all of Talronde. The dim daylight reflected in the hollows of the old Mage’s eye sockets, and suddenly he let out a sigh: "It’s really not easy..."

Lora was a bit taken aback by this inexplicable sigh. "What did you say? What’s not easy?"

"Can you see the enormous, chaotic energy fields covering the sky above this continent, Miss Lora? You’re a Transcendent too—if you focus, you should be able to see them," the old Mage said softly. "These energy fields are relics of the war. I don’t know how long it will take the Dragonkin to completely neutralize and purify them, and until they’ve fully dissipated, maintaining long‑range communications over this land is no simple matter... A high‑power communication station like the one on Crystal Rock Hillock is a very heavy burden for the Dragonkin in their current state, yet they stubbornly insist on rebuilding order in such a harsh environment, without ever considering abandoning this land..."

"...Perhaps the Dragonkin, like human beings, also have a deep attachment to their home planet," Lora thought for a moment, then lightly shook her head as she spoke. "I don’t really understand much about the Dragonkin, but you, have you found what you were looking for?"

Hearing Lora’s question, Modir fell silent for a moment, then let out a faint smile. "How could it be that easy... I’ve been tormented by this elusive sense of guidance and my confusion over my own memories for many years now. I’ve countless times thought I saw hope of lifting the veil, but in the end I’d only wasted time for nothing. So even after coming to this land, I’ve never indulged in the hope of finding any answers in the short term—in fact, it’s entirely possible that the so‑called ’answer’ doesn’t exist at all.

"Miss Lora, I still haven’t found it. I still don’t know what it is that I’ve lost, nor what connection exists between this land and myself. I’ll just take things one step at a time... To be honest, it wouldn’t matter even if I end up finding nothing at all. I don’t feel any regret. In the end, this is an extraordinary adventure, and at the very least I’ve gained a great many insights here that I never had before."

The old Mage looked quite optimistic, and his easygoing attitude actually left Lora—who had intended to offer a few comforting words—at a bit of a loss for what to say. In the end she could only respond with a smile and a slight nod. "After spending so many days in Talronde, I’ve gradually begun to understand the sentence you once said to me—that every adventure has its own value, and the process of exploring the unknown itself is the supreme reward."

Just as her words fell, the sound of beating wings suddenly came from high above, interrupting the conversation between the two. Following the sound, Lora looked up to see a vast black silhouette slowly descending from the sky—a black dragon of tremendous presence was coming down from the heavens, and as it landed, its enormous body was shrouded in a halo of light. As the light faded, the dragon had already taken on the form of a black‑skirted dragon girl with a calm, restrained air and chin‑length short hair, and she was walking toward Modir.

Lora instinctively felt a bit nervous—though of course not because of any "hostility" or "wariness." After spending so many days in Talronde, she and the other adventurers had long grown used to having dragons—these legendary creatures—around them, and had grown accustomed to the Dragonkin’s civilization and friendliness. Even so, when one sees that large a creature descending from the sky, a touch of nervousness is still an unavoidable reaction.

It felt like a worry without cause, yet every time she saw a dragon coming in to land she couldn’t help but worry that these massive beings might misstep and crash down, sweeping everything in a wide arc... She really had no idea where such absurd imaginings kept coming from.

While she was letting her thoughts run wild, the black dragon girl with chin‑length black hair had already stepped up to stand before Modir. She bent slightly at the waist and greeted him with meticulous politeness: "Mr. Modir, my apologies for the suddenness—the Camp Commander wishes to see you. Do you have time now?"

"Me? The Commander wants to see me?" Modir pointed at himself in surprise, apparently having never considered that a Legendary mixing with adventurers would, by rights, long since have drawn the attention of the Dragonkin leadership. "Do you know what it’s about?"

"I’m sorry, I’m only responsible for delivering the message," the black dragon girl shook her head. "But you can rest assured, it won’t be a bad thing—everyone knows of your outstanding performance in the battle against the elemental lord. I suppose... the higher‑ups are probably planning to commend you?"

"Ah, that’s a good thing," Lora immediately laughed, nodding to the old Mage beside her. "Looks like you’ve finally caught the attention of the Dragonkin administrators, old sir."

"Is it a good thing?" Modir pinched the beard on his chin, hesitated for a moment, then slowly nodded. "All right, as long as they’re not planning to revoke my adventurer license here, I’m fine—that thing cost money to get. Lead the way, young lady. Where’s your commander now?"

"He’s already arrived at the temporary camp on Crystal Rock Hillock," the Black Dragon Girl nodded. "Do you mind if I take you there by flying? If you don’t mind, I’ll bring you over right away."

...

A short while later, on the upper level of Crystal Rock Hillock, in the open space of the hastily built camp area, a massive Black Dragon was steadily descending onto the landing field, and before the dragon had fully landed, a figure clutched in its claws had already sprung nimbly to the ground ahead of time and quickly dashed to a safe spot nearby.

Having been carried all the way in the dragon’s claws, Modir slapped the dust off his clothes, straightened his wind-tousled garments and beard, and stared wide-eyed at the Black Dragon Girl walking out of the radiance. When she came closer, he couldn’t help speaking: "I thought when you said ’bring me over’ you meant I’d be riding on your back—you never said you were going to haul me over with your claws!"

A trace of apology appeared on the Black Dragon Girl’s face. "Sorry, I... actually, I wouldn’t mind letting a friend of Talronde like you sit on my back, but I was injured in a previous battle, and my back... probably isn’t suitable for you to..."

"Ah, no need to go on, I get it," Modir hurriedly cut off what Miss Black Dragon was about to say. He looked a little embarrassed, scratched the back of his head after staring blankly for two seconds, and said, "I’m the one who should apologize. I spoke without thinking just now—please forgive me. For certain reasons, my brain’s condition is occasionally not all that normal..."

As he spoke, he frowned slightly, as if something had suddenly come to mind, and muttered, "And come to think of it, I don’t know if it’s just my imagination, but I keep feeling that being hung from a dragon’s claws while flying like this... seems to have happened to me before."

The Black Dragon Girl watched this human being Mage who had started talking to himself with a puzzled expression, then she heard him suddenly ask her, "Young lady, do you know if there’s any kind of dragons among your Dragonkin who habitually carry people in their claws when they fly?"

"Huh? Using claws?" The Black Dragon Girl was taken aback, slightly dazed as she spoke on reflex. "I’ve never heard of any clan with that kind of habit... At most that’s just some individuals’ personal quirk—if it was in the old days, maybe it was because they’d just waxed the scales on their back and couldn’t bear to let anyone ride on them."

"Is that so?" Modir rubbed his head, and quickly pushed this trivial little detail aside. "Forget it, that’s not important—take me to your commander first."

"All right, Mr. Modir."

Led by the Black Dragon Girl, Modir soon passed through the landing area of this temporary camp. After they walked past several temporary barracks that were being welded and assembled, they arrived before a large building of steel and stone. The Black Dragon Girl stopped at the door and lowered her head slightly. "I can only bring you this far—our leader wishes to speak with you alone."

Modir was a little absent-minded and failed to notice that she had quietly switched from the word "commander" to "leader," a word with a special meaning in Talronde. He nodded on reflex, and that Black Dragon lady who looked very young but in fact might have already lived for forty thousand years slipped away without a sound, leaving only a metal-cast door standing quietly before the old Mage—and the door opened a crack by itself.

Modir was taken aback for a moment, then reached out and pushed the door open.

He entered a spacious room, brightly lit. Light from several glowing Magic spheres in the ceiling illuminated this plainly furnished, structurally straightforward space. He saw a table and a few chairs in the center of the room, with simple, durable metal shelves and some operating magical devices along the walls. A tall figure in a pale-gold robe, with blond hair, was standing by the window not far away, and just as Modir’s gaze fell upon him, that figure turned his head.

The leader of Talronde, Heragor.

Modir was slightly dazed. After carefully studying this Dragonkin whose age and depth were completely unreadable, he finally frowned and asked, "And you are? You don’t look like an ordinary Camp Commander."

Heragor seemed to have been preparing an opening line, but Modir’s direct question made him involuntarily laugh. "I thought every adventurer would have at least some basic impression of me, especially a Mage like you—after all, I did show my face at the welcoming ceremony in the Adventurer Camp."

Modir blinked, shook his head a bit apologetically. "Sorry, my memory... isn’t always reliable. So who are you?"

"You can call me Heragor," the leader of Talronde said gently. "I can be considered, for the time being, the ruler of the land beneath your feet."