Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 1214: Chapter 1213: Some Answers

In the sudden whirlwind and the booming noise in his mind, Modir felt his soul being suddenly detached, drifting in some kind of void emptiness. He didn’t know how long he drifted, only feeling that he swiftly traversed an "distance" incomprehensible to mortals—then, his tattered soul was brutally stuffed back into his shell like a rag.

A moment later, the old Mage slowly woke up, reflexively assuming a guarded stance the instant his consciousness returned. One hand touched his Combat Staff, the other touched the enchanted dagger for protection, followed by a flurry of instant-cast protective spells... He vividly remembered the same process occurring not long ago.

But this time, he did not wake up in that black and white world—opening his eyes, he saw the familiar Adventurer’s Solo Dormitory, everything in sight starkly colorful and normal. The vibrant sounds of the Adventurer Camp bustling with life came from outside, with the faint, dusky twilight of the perpetual night filtering through the window cracks.

"This is truly bizarre..." Modir muttered, his mind remaining alert. He rapidly checked every detail in the room, confirming that everything matched his memory. He then went to the window, brushing his fingers over the fine dust on the windowsill.

He had touched the same spot on the windowsill in that faded world, but now, the dust here bore no traces of being wiped.

The old Mage leaned close to the window, opening the shutters a bit. Under the nearby streetlight and the faint sky, he saw people bustling in the Adventurer Camp. Apparently, another batch of teams had completed clearing or exploring tasks near the camp. The exhilarated adventurers were calling their friends to places of leisure like bars and casinos. A Dragonkin, maintaining a human form but with scales on his face and arms, happened to walk by. He smiled and greeted Modir warmly.

Modir smiled and nodded in return, then retreated to the desk beside the bed. His expression turned serious as he sat on the crudely practical wooden chair, frowning while contemplating the recent events. Waves of dizziness kept troubling the old Mage’s thoughts and memories. He had to cast several calming spells on himself to clear his mind and barely managed to sort out the memories of that "weird dream".

He suddenly seemed to remember something, gesturing with his hand toward a direction, causing a thick vellum book to silently fly to his side. The old Mage set down the dagger, reached to open the latter part of the journal, and as he glanced over it, his gaze subtly changed.

There were new entries in the book, snippets he left in that faded world. From the moment he woke up from the dream, his records of that barren land and the female Goddess as massive as mountains were vividly on the parchment, with the ink not even dry upon close inspection.

"Did the dream affect reality? Or did I subconsciously write these records in my sleep? Or perhaps the prior experience was real, and I was in some overlay state of reality and illusion? Or is it related to shadow realm’s influence on the real world..."

Modir mumbled various hypotheses under his breath, his fingers trailing slowly over the words trying to find some clues in his own records, when suddenly his fingers stopped—

He had reached the part of the record where the massive female Goddess and the unseen "Great Adventurer Storyteller" discussed their dreams. However, the section that described the Goddess’s dream in detail had somehow devolved into chaotic blobs of ink and lines, akin to the gibberish of a murmur in a dream, completely indecipherable.

Modir immediately started recalling his corresponding memories, cold sweat gradually seeping from his forehead—he realized a portion of his memory was suddenly gone, as if in that very second it turned into an empty void. He could distinctly sense the "hollowness" in his mind, and a few moments after, that sense of discord vanished entirely. Finally, he couldn’t remember at all what the dream described by the female Goddess was about.

The old Mage inhaled gently, reining in his racing heartbeat, and with a sort of determined momentum, he swiftly flipped the journal to the last section. He saw the account where the female Goddess rose to face some unspeakable terrifying creature—that part remained recorded. He also noticed the last words described how after the Goddess rose, a starry imagery appeared on the throne’s backrest... and there the records abruptly ended.

"Starry sky... starry sky..." Modir slowly closed the journal, tapping his forehead lightly with the Combat Staff in his other hand. "I did see that grand starry scene on the throne’s backrest, but why can’t I recall how it actually looked... I shouldn’t be forgetting, with a Mage’s mind, I should at least remember something... is it another memory problem? Or some formidable mental blockade?"

Suddenly, the old Mage ceased tapping his forehead, frowning: "No, I can’t think about this too much, risk of contamination. I need to pause."

The Great Adventurer’s ample experience in defying and surviving danger kicked in, and Modir stopped his perilous exploratory thoughts. He took several deep breaths to calm his heart and mind back to normalcy, then packed his journal, deciding to step outside for fresh air before heading to the Adventurer’s Bar for a drink.

But as soon as he walked to the door, a not-so-unfamiliar aura entered his perception. The old Mage paused at the door, soon hearing a polite knock and the voice of a young woman from outside: "Master Modir, are you up?"

Modir opened the door to see a young woman in a black dress with black hair standing before him.

He recognized the girl—a chance meeting by that hill made of Crystal Cluster. He knew this gentle and frail-looking girl was actually a Black Dragon in true form, likely the Dragon Tribe Leader Heragor’s personal envoy.

"I hope I didn’t disturb your noon rest, Master Modir," the Black Dragon Girl slightly bowed in salute, a faint smile on her face, "I apologize for the unannounced visit on your day off—there’s an invitation."

"No need to worry, I was just waking up," Modir raised an eyebrow, seeming not overly surprised. "Is Sir Heragor needing me again?"

The Black Dragon Girl nodded: "The leader invites you to the Inner City Council Hall for a meeting, is now convenient?"

"No inconvenience at all," Modir said offhandedly, simultaneously gesturing aside with a hand. The robe, hat, and other attire on the coat rack flew to him, fittingly adorning him. "I didn’t have plans today, and there’s something I’d like to discuss with your leader—he should be quite knowledgeable... Dragon."

While speaking, he began heading out, but suddenly remembered something, casting a peculiar glance at the Black Dragon Girl in front of him: "By the way, a trip to the Inner City District shouldn’t require flying, right... If worse comes to worst, I can fly myself..."

He recalled being carried to the mountain top by her claws last time—a far from comfortable travel experience.

"Certainly not," the Black Dragon Girl couldn’t help but laugh, as she had evidently thought of the same thing, "the Inner City Council Hall is not far from here, we can get there soon."

In the New Argondale Inner City, within a reception room of a council hall which was restored and transformed from a half-collapsed old factory facility, warm and gentle lights shone. Modir, led by the Black Dragon Girl, arrived here where the Dragon Tribe Leader who had lived through countless ages and accumulated unimaginable knowledge was waiting.

After entering the room, the short-haired Black Dragon Girl quietly withdrew, while Modir tidied up his mage robes and stepped towards the human-shaped Golden Dragon, who just happened to lift its head from the desk, its pale golden vertical pupils gazing at the Great Adventurer wearing a black soft hat.

"Your Excellency Heragor, you called for me this time..."

Just as Modir was halfway through his sentence, Heragor’s expression suddenly changed. The Dragon Tribe Leader stood up abruptly, leaning forward to stare at the old mage, as if wanting to peer through his body to examine his soul: "Master Modir, where has your soul been before?!"

Modir’s words were suddenly choked back, his shock lasted for less than half a second before he realized that the powerful Golden Dragon in front of him must have discerned some issue with him. Concurrently, he himself immediately thought about the strange encounter he had experienced not long ago in that seemingly shadow realm of black and white space, his expression turning serious: "Your Excellency Heragor, have you discovered something?"

"Your soul retains very distinct... otherworldly aura," Heragor stared intently into Modir’s eyes, those dragon’s golden vertical pupils reflecting the old mage’s figure on one side and a pale, blurred soul on the other, "some sort of power not belonging to the real world has left a deep mark on your soul... but this power is rapidly fading; if you had come a moment later, I might not have been able to discern these traces."

"Really?" Modir appeared astonished, yet also somewhat doubtful, "That shouldn’t be... how could I not notice my soul having an issue..."

"Perhaps that mark interfered with your judgment, or the power behind it is too bizarre, residing in your ’blind spot of the mind,’" Heragor’s expression did not relax at all, "Master Modir, what exactly happened?"

"...I had a dream, or perhaps it wasn’t a dream. As you said, my soul may have briefly fallen into a space similar to the shadow realm," Modir pondered slightly, believing the dragon leader in front of him had no reason to plot anything about this matter, and he himself was also seeking to inquire certain things from him, so he didn’t conceal it anymore and recounted that bizarre ’dream encounter’ thoroughly, "The incident occurred a few hours ago. I awoke startled from a dream, seeing a desolate wilderness covered with gray-white dust and shattered boulders, as well as a city ruin, black and broken, seemingly eternally unreachable...

"I even saw an enormous figure as big as a mountain sitting on a crumbling throne, the throne built from unknown gray-white materials, seemingly once part of the surrounding dust, while the lower half looked like some religious altar; the figure appeared to be a woman, wearing a black long dress of indistinguishable style and material, gray-white cracks or lines roamed over her body like superimposed shadows. I couldn’t make out her face, but I could hear her voice...

"I also heard my own voice, yet I couldn’t see where that voice came from..."

To get as much help as possible, Modir described his memories in great detail, further elaborating on his brief ’dream entry’ on the ship. Heragor listened with focus, not interrupting from beginning to end until Modir finally finished his recount. The Dragon Tribe Leader then gently exhaled, asking seriously, "Before boarding that mechanical ship departing from Northport, you never had any similar experience, correct?"

"Correct," Modir knew what the other wanted to imply, "One could think such occurrences started appearing only upon approaching Talronde."

"A black and white space like the shadow realm, an endless gray-white desert, boulders... and the seemingly perpetually unreachable black city ruins..." Heragor frowned, lowly muttering to himself, "The crumbling gigantic throne, and the altar structure beneath that throne..."

"Do you know where that place is?" Modir couldn’t help but ask, "You’ve lived for nearly two million years, there should be nothing in this world that you’re unaware of."

Heragor shook his head: "The world holds no true omniscient beings, even the eyes of God are limited. The place you described leaves no impression on me, whether it be the real world or shadow realm, or those peculiar elemental and spiritual body planes, none match the environment completely..."

Modir didn’t hide the disappointment on his face: "Is that so... you don’t even know."

Heragor continued shaking his head: "I’m sorry, I can’t help you with that. However, I agree with your judgment—the environment in that place is very close to shadow realm, though many contradictions remain unexplained, it’s definitely closely related to shadow realm, and..."

The Golden Dragon suddenly paused, and his expression became extremely strange—pertaining a hint of fear, a touch of doubt, and more tension and solemnness.

He lifted his head, gazing at Modir’s eyes with unprecedented seriousness: "Can you describe once more what that towering ’lady’ looked like?"

"Of course," Modir immediately nodded and recounted the depiction of that presumed deity lady he had seen in the ’dream’ again, adding one more thing he suddenly remembered, "Right, I also remember that when She faced that horrific, blasphemous creature, a weapon appeared in Her hand. It was a scepter formed from the gray-white cracks roaming over Her body, half-black and half-white, possessing an extremely intense presence, I could hardly avert my gaze from it..."

"A half-black, half-white scepter!?" Heragor’s eyes widened in an instant, as if a vague conjecture he had made earlier was suddenly confirmed. The Dragon Tribe Leader stood up abruptly, only realizing his lapse in calm after several seconds, slowly sitting back down.

"It seems you know the identity of that ’lady’," Modir judged based on the other’s reaction, "What exactly was I seeing..."

"As you surmised, Master Modir, a deity," Heragor softly breathed out, "Though not a god of this current era... She has been missing for more than 1.8 million years."