Chapter 894: Chapter 893: The Two Ends of the Chain
What exactly does this "God" intend to do?
This was the question that Gawain was most concerned about, and also most worried about, after confirming that Amoen, the Giant Stag, was indeed feigning death.
Evidently, Amoen, the Giant Stag was also very aware of what Gawain was anxious about.
"If I were to return to the sight of mortals again, it would likely cause quite a stir..." He said with a hint of a smile in His words, His enormous eyes calmly watching Gawain, "What do you think about this?"
"To be honest, I’d rather you not leave this place," Gawain said candidly, "nor do I want you to return to the eyes of mortals—though three thousand years have passed, the Druid legacy remains, and there are still people with minds full of religious revival who would be interested in something like the ’return of the gods’. Perhaps some would rekindle faith in the God of Nature, or perhaps someone would want to stir up trouble under the pretense of the ancient gods’ return, none of which I’d like to see."
"Rest assured, that’s not what I want to see either—I paid a great price to escape the cycle, and it certainly wasn’t to one day return to the divine seat," Amoen chuckled softly and said, "So, you can set your mind at ease."
"I’ll try to be at ease." Gawain sighed.
After all, he was facing a mysterious and powerful God, and whether he could be reassured wasn’t entirely up to him.
After the words fell, he couldn’t help but look up and down at the God of Nature before him a few more times.
This vast and sacred figure was being locked down by numerous restraint devices from the Ancient Gondor Era. Thick chains and magic symbol pillars interwove layer upon layer to form the great barrier that still operated today, and many fragments emitting a faint glow from ships and station debris from the universe entrapped the Giant Stag’s entire body. Some fragments floated around Him, while others were deeply embedded into the flesh of this God.
It looked hideous and terrifying, but Gawain found it difficult to discern from Amoen’s tone or gaze whether He was in pain because of this.
"What? Want to help me lift these constraints?" Amoen’s voice sounded in his mind, "Ah... they indeed cause me great trouble, especially these fragments. They keep me completely immobilized... If you are willing, you could help me remove the particularly bothersome and less critical ones."
Gawain raised his eyes to look at this God: "Do you think I would do that?"
"I think not—anyone with reason and in your position wouldn’t do that," Amoen said very casually, with no hint of displeasure in His tone, "And I would advise against it—the will and body of yours might be sturdy enough to withstand the impact of a God’s power, but those standing behind you may not, and the old barrier here cannot withstand my full power."
Gawain turned slightly to glance in the direction of the isolation barrier, seeing Amber, Aunt Heidi, and the others standing there with expressions of concern and worry, looking this way. He waved his hand towards them, then turned back, "I am happy to take your advice."
"That’s for the best," Amoen said lightly, "If the day ever comes that you truly want or need to unleash my power, make sure you are thoroughly prepared... Do not be as reckless as those first humans who came here—they paid quite the price."
He was likely referring to those early humans, the Master Mages from the Meteoric Era of the Gondor Empire, who built the defied Fortress here.
"It looks like... you’ve already prepared yourself to continue ’hibernating’ here," Gawain breathed out softly and said to Amoen, "I’m quite curious, are you waiting for something? Because your current state of being immobile and feigning death seems very... pointless to me."
"So, I am waiting for something meaningful to happen, perhaps a world-shattering change in the mortal world, perhaps a chance to end that pathetic cycle thoroughly and completely. Sadly, I can’t describe how these will be realized to you, but until that day comes, I’ll be patient."
Gawain frowned slightly: "Even if you’ve waited three thousand years already?"
Amoen replied calmly: "I’ve only just waited a moment."
"..." Gawain looked at the God of Nature. After a long pause, he finally smiled and shook his head, "Indeed, three thousand years is but the blink of an eye... Alright, you continue to wait here. I think I should be leaving now."
"Safe travels—my apologies for not being able to see you off."
"I appreciate your sense of humor," Gawain was slightly taken aback and then couldn’t help but laugh, "So even Gods can crack jokes."
He then stepped back two paces, but just before he turned to leave, he suddenly thought of something and asked, "Oh, there’s one more thing I want to ask—what exactly is the chaotic wave? Is its cyclical appearance related to all Gods?"
Amoen was silent for a few seconds, as if in contemplation, and then answered, "In a sense, it is nothing more than an exceptionally terrifying natural phenomenon to mortals... but it is not caused by Gods."
"I understand," Gawain nodded, "Thank you for your explanation."
He turned around and walked in the direction he came from, while Amoen quietly lay amidst those ancient restraints and debris fragments, watching his back with eyes like glowing cast metal. He walked all the way to the edge of the defied Fortress’s main building, to the nearly transparent protective barrier, and then turned back to take another look—at this distance, Amoen’s body was still imposing enough to be awe-inspiring, yet it no longer felt as if it would suffocate you like a mountain.
He nodded towards Amoen, opening his mouth—he believed that even from this distance, as long as he spoke, the "God" would hear him: "Just now, you said perhaps one day mortals might again begin to fear nature, replacing reason and knowledge with blind awe and terror, thus welcoming the return of a new God of Nature... Did you mean events like the chaotic wave that cause a break in civilization, leading to the loss of technology and knowledge, would result in the birth of new Gods?"
Amoen’s voice indeed appeared again in his mind: "That is one possibility, but even with the continual development of civilization, with new technology and knowledge emerging endlessly, blind reverence could still make a comeback, and new Gods... can indeed be born with technological progress."
Gawain fell into a brief contemplation, then, with a thoughtful expression, he gently exhaled: "I understand... it seems such things have already occurred in this world once."
He turned back around and stepped into the shimmering protective barrier. The next second, Kamel infused Magic Power into the control mechanism, and the energy shield instantly became more solid than before. A sound of mechanical grinding came from the corridor’s ceiling and floor—the ancient alloy protective walls slowly closed under the operation of the magic mechanisms, sealing off the entire corridor once more.
In the courtyard, the God of Nature quietly observed all of this. Only after the mortal-built fortress was sealed once again did He retract His gaze, silently closing His eyes and returning to His long and meaningful wait.
Gawain returned to Amber, Aunt Heidi, and the others, and they immediately gathered around him—even Veronica Moen, who usually appeared the most composed and calm, couldn’t hide her excitement and anxiety at this moment. She even spoke up faster than Amber: "What on earth happened? Why... is Amoen, the Giant Stag alive? What did you talk about with Him?"
"This is not the place for conversation, and I’m a bit tired," Gawain immediately raised a hand, interrupting the flood of questions that was about to ensue from the others, "Let’s head back first—there are many things, quite chaotic, that I need to tell you slowly."
...
A voice, as if carrying a sigh, floated down from the high divine seat, a gentle sound echoing in the hall: "He refused..."
Melita and Nuoletta stood at the bottom of the high steps, their heads lowered, neither daring to look up nor speak, merely waiting with tense expressions for further instructions from the god.
Even the most bold, daring, and unorthodox young dragon, in the presence of the protector god of their race, is full of awe, cautious not to lose decorum.
"Lift your heads, young ones," the splendid woman with golden hair trailing on the floor sat on the ornate divine seat, looking down at the two figures at the end of the steps, a hint of a smile seemed to appear on her face, "I am not angry, and you have completed your tasks well—in the younger generation, you are outstanding."
Only then did Melita and Nuoletta dare to lift their heads, the latter looking up with reverence at the goddess above, showing a humble expression: "Thank you for your praise..."
Indeed, the Dragon God smiled, seemingly satisfied as she casually asked the two young dragons: "Is the world outside...interesting?"
"Interesting, indeed," Melita immediately replied, "And the human world has changed greatly in recent years, such as...ah, of course, I haven’t indulged too much in the outside world..."
She seemed to feel her unsophisticated demeanor was inappropriate, hastily attempting to remedy it, but the divine voice from above already spoke: "Do not be nervous, I have never forbidden you from interacting with the outside world, Talronde is not a closed place...as long as you haven’t ventured too far, I won’t mind."
Melita lowered her head: "Yes, indeed..."
"Gawain Cecil, what kind of person is he generally?" the Dragon God asked again, "Apart from refusing my invitation, how else did he behave?"
"He...is complex, difficult to see through at a glance," Melita began thoughtfully, "Overall, I think he has a resolute will, clear objectives, and his vision is quite advanced among humans—a series of facts also prove most of his forward-thinking judgments are correct. As for how he behaved besides refusing the invitation..."
She pondered carefully, organizing her words as she spoke: "He remained calm throughout—except for some surprise upon hearing your invitation, he acted as if he were facing an ordinary ’invitation’. He seemed neither awed nor fearful of receiving an invitation from a god, and his calm demeanor was not faked, my lie detector sensors showed no reaction."
"The most cunning tricksters can even deceive themselves, lie detection spells and devices are ineffective against such people," the Dragon God said lightly, "However, I do trust your judgment, Melita, that person indeed seems somewhat special, he truly is not awed nor fearful of the divine."
Then there was a moment of silence in the hall, before Melita and Nuoletta finally heard a voice as heavenly as divine sound: "You may go; take a rest now."
They both lowered their heads, speaking in unison: "Yes, my Lord!"
The two young dragons left, leaving the vast hall briefly occupied only by the lofty divine presence, the Dragon Priest serving the divine, and some servants insignificant enough to be disregarded.
Enya sat in a somewhat lazy posture on the broad, lavish seat, leaning against the back of the chair, her hand resting beside her face, speaking with an informal tone: "Heragor, those kids were very nervous—do I really make you all so uneasy in usual times?"
"They merely revere you, my Lord," Heragor immediately replied, "You have always been compassionate toward the Dragonkin, especially the younger ones, they surely understand this."
"Just awe..."
The Dragon God Enya murmured softly as if talking to herself, her eyelids slightly lowered, lazily gazing toward the end of the hall, as if her sights penetrated the temple, the peaks and the vast sky of Talronde, ultimately falling upon every Dragonkin in this land.
She saw a web, with countless threads within, saw chains woven by faith, connecting every living being on this land.
Faith is like a lock, mortals on one end, gods on the other.
"...uninteresting."
The god spoke with a hint of disappointment.
...
"I nearly died from nervousness just now!!" Walking across the square outside the Great Temple, Melita couldn’t help but pat her chest, taking deep breaths as she spoke, "I felt like my heart was beating so out of place...ah, I really need to go check on my hearts; I truly feel like two of them have jumped into other chambers..."
Nuoletta glanced sideways at her friend: "You shouldn’t have been stingy with your internal implants—composite blood-pump hearts from Frost Heavy Industries or Barkbato aren’t expensive."
"No heart can withstand the pressure of facing a god head-on—moreover, those so-called new products don’t differ much technically from old models, adding a few lights and fancy badges won’t make my heart any stronger."
"Enough, we shouldn’t be discussing these loudly here," Nuoletta couldn’t help but remind her, "We are still within the precincts of the sacred ground."
Melita worked hard to calm herself, then stared at Nuoletta several times: "You don’t have many more chances to meet the divine than I do...why do you seem so calm?"
"Perhaps you should try inhaling half a unit of ’gray’ Enhancer before important meetings," Nuoletta suggested, "It can make you more relaxed, and the dosage is just right to keep you composed."
"...I dislike those flashy enhancers," Melita shook her head, "I’ll continue being my young antique."
