Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 1221: Chapter 1220: Third Intervention

Listening to Miss Black Dragon’s helpless sigh, Modir’s rocking chair finally stopped. The old mage rolled his eyes to the sky and spoke somewhat irritably: "Isn’t that nonsense—my originally planned adventure is now shelved, every day I just watch people come and go, listen to them tell me about new changes outside the camp, how can I not be bored?"

The young Black Dragon Girl showed a troubled expression on her face: "Well... we’re worried about unexpected events..."

"I know, I know," Modir waved impatiently, not letting her finish. "You’re essentially worried that I’ll accidentally die outside before my descendant rushing over from the Loren Continent arrives. Why embellish so much..."

The Black Dragon Girl’s face instantly became more awkward than before: "Actually... that’s not the only reason..."

"Also because my mental state has become increasingly strange lately, worrying that if I go out with other adventurers, I’ll cause a big mess," Modir, who had already figured out all the thoughts of these Dragonkin, spoke with impatience but maintained his merry expression. "Hey, don’t look so embarrassed as if I’ve hit the nail on the head. I’m not embarrassed; you don’t have to be embarrassed either. I actually understand; your concerns are not malicious nor wrong, so I’m cooperating—since meeting your leader last time, I haven’t even left this street, but being bored is really boring..."

As he spoke, the Great Adventurer couldn’t help but shake his head: "Hey, the entertainment activities around here are still too few. The tavern gets dull after a few visits, I’m not good at gambling, and there don’t seem to be many adventurers interested in card games or chess either..."

Listening to the Great Adventurer’s ramblings, the expression on the Black Dragon Girl’s face standing nearby gradually changed. Her eyelids drooped, her tone carrying a sigh: "Entertainment... indeed the current Adventurer Camp is limited in conditions, but in the past of Talronde, we didn’t lack all kinds of ’entertainment’—if you could see the Agondale Lower District of that time, you probably wouldn’t feel bored."

Modir lifted his eyelids and glanced at the Black Dragon: "You mean those addictive potions, the nerve-stimulating illusion generators, and the gladiatorial arenas?"

The Black Dragon Girl blinked, seeming surprised: "You know about these?"

"Every adventurer sees the information about the Dragon Kingdom before registering. I’m not the type to just toss it away without looking," Modir shook his head. "It’s essential for every adventurer to understand the place they’re going in advance."

"True... you are different from other adventurers," the Black Dragon Girl smiled, showing some curiosity on her face. "Since that’s the case, how do you view the former Talronde?"

"Me? Since I haven’t seen it myself, I can’t imagine what that bizarre world truly looks like," Modir shrugged. "But seeing that you would rather pay such a huge price to turn it into a wasteland, just to escape from that situation, I imagine it must not have been as idyllic as it appeared."

The Black Dragon Girl didn’t speak for a moment, seemingly lost in some sort of memory. After a long pause, her expression gradually relaxed, and a faint smile emerged on her face: "In terms of individual ’survival,’ the former Talronde could indeed be called a paradise or kingdom of heaven, but when living on a fixed trajectory for tens of thousands or hundreds of thousands of years, with even daily behavior strictly adhering to a large, complex, and invisible framework, any paradise or kingdom of heaven becomes just long-term torment. You’re right, it wasn’t a beautiful place."

"I’m suddenly curious," Modir watched the girl’s eyes with curiosity. "I heard that in the old Talronde, most dragons didn’t need to work, so what did you do every day?"

"Dueling." The Black Dragon Girl chuckled lightly.

"Dueling?!" Modir was immediately amazed, examining her seemingly slender body. "You? Your daily activity was dueling with others?"

"That was actually a form of... entertainment. We would extract our brain tissue from our original bodies, placing it into a highly modified ’competitive template’ to compete in a vast container over ’target objects’ and rankings, involving reckless death battles and cheers from the crowd—and I was a regular at the Agondale Extreme Arena. Don’t be fooled by how I look now; back then, my opponents dismantled by me were countless."

"This..." Modir struggled to imagine what kind of scene it would be. "Were you fighting for some precious treasure in the arena?"

"No, usually just an industrially made mechanical ball, or a symbolic metal ring representing points."

"Was there a large prize for the winners?"

"The prize was considerable, but most participants didn’t care about this. In most cases, the earnings from the event were spent on repairing body implants or performing central nervous repair surgeries."

Saying this, the Black Dragon Girl maintained a faint smile, while Modir couldn’t help but open his eyes wide, unable to comprehend such a way of life filled with madness: "Then... why do you pursue it?"

"To prove we are alive, and to alleviate the central system agitation syndrome caused by excessive enhancers," the Black Dragon Girl said calmly. "Some simply seek death—Omega System and the Upper Temple strictly prohibit any form of self-execution, so ’extreme competitions’ based on combat are the only ways for dragons to prove they are alive and have the right to die... but all that is past now."

"... Okay, I still can’t understand," Modir muttered after a long pause, shaking his head. "Luckily, I don’t need to understand such a crazy life."

The Black Dragon Girl just smiled, then slightly bent her waist: "Alright, I’ve already delayed your ’sunbathing’ time enough, I won’t continue to hold you up."

Modir waved his hand as he heard this, purposefully showing impatience, and the Black Dragon Girl merely smiled indifferently, turning to walk to the other side of the street.

"Tsk... I guess I understand now why these Dragonkin are willing to pay such a huge price to ’shatter everything’," Modir couldn’t help but murmur softly, watching the other’s departing figure, "They’re truly on the brink of madness..."

After speaking, he shook his body back and forth in the rocking chair, changing to a more comfortable position. He then closed his eyes slightly as if he were truly basking in sunlight, and as the chair gently swayed, the sound from the street gradually faded away at his ears...

The Great Adventurer suddenly opened his eyes, seeing the empty street extending before him. The adventurers and humanoid dragons previously bustling around had disappeared, and everything in sight had lost its color, leaving only the monotonous black and white along with a silent environment.

At the end of the street, the buildings and road that once stood abruptly ceased, as if a piece of this area was directly cut out by some invisible force. Beyond that distinct boundary line lay the familiar gray-white desert, the tall throne and altar, and in the distance, the city ruins silhouetted in black.

Modir felt his heart tighten, but this time he was calmer than before—this was his third time entering this bizarre place. Though he still didn’t know the reason behind it all, his past experiences of returning safely twice allowed him to remain composed this third time.

After confirming there was nothing unusual about his state, he quickly cast a full set of protective spells on himself, then moved with the agility of a rogue into the shadows of nearby buildings to prevent the massive "lady" sitting on the throne from noticing him. Almost as soon as he completed these actions, that lazy yet authoritative female voice echoed through the heavens and earth:

"Quite a story, Mr. Great Adventurer, and this time it seems there’s a lot of new elements in it? A powerful race sealed within ancient kingdoms, gradually declining due to prolonged confinement, indulging in hallucinogenic enhancers and mad entertainment... and subconsciously pursuing self-destruction, Mr. Great Adventurer, I like this new story..."

Hiding behind the nearby building, Modir froze.

What the lazy, authoritative voice described... wasn’t it precisely the intel he just heard from that Black Dragon Girl regarding the old Talronde?!

The old mage felt his heart rate accelerate slightly at this moment, even suspecting that the lady had already discovered him and was mocking him, the "inadequate intruder," in this manner. Yet, in the next second, the expected pressure did not descend upon him. Instead, he heard a voice identical to his own sounding somewhere near the throne:

"I also think this time’s story is quite good—you probably guessed it too, this story was my creation, and it just suddenly popped into my head... I don’t even know how I came up with such a ’background setting’, but judging by your reaction... my story-making skills are indeed improving."

"Ah, my Mr. Great Adventurer, I’m not trying to praise you—though your new story is indeed decent," the lazy yet authoritative voice continued with a hint of helplessness, "I even miss the old days when you firmly upheld the ’dignity and ethics of an adventurer.’ No matter how many times old stories were repeated, you would never use fabricated content to deceive me, but now you take pride in your ability to deceive."

"Because now I’ve figured it out, all you seek is a story, you don’t care whether it’s true, and besides, I’m not compiling my adventure notes, so why insist on ’accurate records’?"

The conversation echoes from near the throne, and Modir, hiding in the building’s shadow, calmed down gradually, though his heart still harbored immense shock and uncontrollable conjectures—now he could fully ascertain that the intel the "lady" just mentioned was what he had heard from the Black Dragon Girl, yet here, that intel seemed to become a story just concocted by the "storytelling adventurer"...

Did the intel he heard in the real world get projected into this world? Or is the voice identical to his own actually his projection within this world? Is it his subconscious self? Or some kind of soul-level split?

The possible guesses behind this are too many. Even the knowledgeable archMage dared not casually speculate. Modir even felt an arising impulse to leave the "safe zone" where he stood and run to that throne to confirm closely, to see the "lady’s" true form and trace the origin of "his voice," just to see who the speaker is, even if it’s really "another Modir"...

However, his rationality suppressed those dangerous impulses, and Modir followed his inner guide, hiding better in the building’s shadow.

Just then, the voice of the "other Modir" once more came from the throne’s direction: "Alright, my story’s done, lady, it’s your turn to tell—feel free to continue with your dreams."

"My dreams... well, at least there’s nothing else to speak of," the lazy, authoritative female voice seemed to chuckle, then spoke unhurriedly, "It’s still in that giant city lying low against the ground... I dreamt I was wandering constantly in that giant city, there seemed to be my mission, a task I must complete...

"There are many figures, serving me, or perhaps following me. I keep hearing their voices. From the voices, I can understand almost the entire world’s changes. All the secrets and knowledge, intrigues and plots are laid before me like grains of sand under the sun, and I gather those ’grains,’ piecing together like a jigsaw to restore the world’s appearance...

"There’s another figure, He is in the center of the giant city and seems to be the ruler of the city. I must constantly present the assembled jigsaw to Him, and He turns the jigsaw into His own power, used to sustain an invisible monster’s breath... Beside Him, in the giant city, there are individuals much like me, and we all must hand over what our followers have gathered to Him, to sustain that ’monster’s’ survival...

"This feels rather bizarre, but honestly, I find it quite interesting."

The lady describes everything she sees in her dream unhurriedly, and after she finishes speaking, there was silence for a few seconds near the throne before the "other Modir’s" voice broke it: "Ah, saying honestly, lady, the dream you described sounds increasingly bizarre to me... not only bizarre, but I even find it a bit frightening."

"Great Adventurer, you shouldn’t be so timid. Didn’t you say? You dared excavate certain graves filled with eerie terror, and what I spoke of is merely a dream—I thought these two things were equally interesting to you."

"It’s different, lady," the Great Adventurer’s voice immediately retorted, "I excavate graves to seek truth from buried history, it’s a serious and reverent matter, not done for amusement..."

"Is that so? Alright, I guess I really can’t quite comprehend," the lady’s lazy voice carried a smile, "Seeking truth from buried history... I don’t quite understand what truth is worth excavating from those fleeting histories, but if there’s a chance, I’d be quite interested in accompanying you to try out those things you’ve mentioned..."