Chapter 1197 — Between Life and Death

"I have, and the situation is somewhat complicated," Hragor said with a nod. "Both his memory and his mental state are off. Besides being unable to recall his full name and origins, he also has disordered memories of his own adventuring career. We can preliminarily rule out the possibility that his memory was erased all at once — this should be a long-term, internally caused state of confusion."

Anqian was silent for a moment, then said in a low voice: "That sounds like... you were unable to confirm to his face that he is Mojin Wilder?"

"There is no way to confirm it. He remembers nothing at all — even when portions of Mojin's Travels were shown to him, he had no impression of them," Hragor shook his head, but then changed tack at once, "And yet... I believe he is."

"...When we suddenly learned the name he had registered in the adventurers' roster, you and I both thought at once of Metzen's report back then — though we also immediately suspected it was merely a case of identical names, there were simply too many coincidences, too many to ignore," Anqian's voice was low. "On the continent of Loren, 'legendary' is a rare category. Searching the history of the past ten thousand years, perhaps no second legendary figure named 'Mojin' has ever appeared among humans — and he was also an adventurer, one who visited Talrond in pursuit of some 'lost thing'..."

"The only problem is that humans cannot live six centuries — Mojin Wilder ought to have died six hundred years ago."

"Humans also cannot rise from their coffins seven hundred years after death — and yet such a thing happened," Anqian shook his head. "There were never that many 'certainties' in this world to begin with, especially when the transcendent is involved."

"I agree with you, and that is one of the reasons I dare to judge that he is Mojin Wilder," Hragor said slowly, then abruptly shifted course. "Speaking of which, in the course of my contact with that 'adventurer,' I discovered something."

Anqian's mechanical prosthetic eye contracted at once: "What did you discover?"

"After he read part of Mojin's Travels and heard the surname 'Wilder' from my mouth, he quickly fell into some kind of mental confusion. The whole process lasted less than a minute; afterward he forgot what had just happened, no longer remembered the contents of the Travels, and his memory reverted to the state before I brought out the book," Hragor described in detail what had just occurred. "At the same time, I observed a sharp decline in the stability of his soul. To guard against accidents, I did not attempt a second time."

"...Falling into confusion upon hearing the surname? And losing his memory afterward?" Anqian's tone turned grave at once. "That sounds... it makes me think of the undead."

"Yes, it calls the undead to mind, yet it does not fully match — at least he knows his own name is Mojin, whereas the undead can never remember their own names. Moreover, once a backlash of the soul occurs in the undead, the consequences are far more than confusion of thought and temporary amnesia," Hragor nodded. "Mojin is living flesh and blood; of that I am certain. He is alive — only his state of being alive is... not quite right. I am more inclined to think that his soul suffered a very severe wound, a wound that failed to kill him but imprisoned part of his 'essence of life' in a state neither living nor dead — this is likely one of the reasons he has been able to wander the mortal world for a full six hundred years."

Listening to Hragor's judgment, Anqian fell into thought for a short while, and several minutes later broke the silence: "What about the detection of 'corruption'? Was any corrupting factor detected?"

Hragor's gaze swept once more over the shining runes throughout the room, and after a brief consideration he shook his head: "No corruption was detected — neither other forms of mental corruption originating from the gods, nor the specific corruption that points to the Reverse Tide. There is no residual reaction whatsoever. Mojin is merely a mortal in a strange state of existence."

"...Yet I still cannot quite rest easy," Anqian sighed softly. "He did once enter that tower, and this matter is connected to our former god... Though by the clues from back then, Mojin Wilder was not corrupted by the Reverse Tide when he left Talrond, you know the peculiarity of that tower — even our former god could not intervene in what happened within it."

The room fell briefly quiet, and after a moment Anqian spoke again: "What have you decided?"

"That tower has been making me more and more uneasy of late," Hragor said in a heavy voice, "and since the adventurer Mojin appeared, this unease has only grown stronger."

"I think we should contact Gaoyang Cecil — at the very least, let the Cecil Empire know that this adventurer exists. The descendants of the Wilde family over there may have a way to verify their ancestor's identity, and at the same time, we can discuss the matter of the Tower of the Counter-Tide with Gaoyang, and see what thoughts that human emperor — who is likewise skilled at dealing with gods — might have. And finally..."

Here Hragor stopped, his expression somewhat strange, appearing rather hesitant; but Anqian had guessed what the former dragon priest was thinking. He raised his head slightly, the dim red light flickering in his mechanical prosthetic eyes: "We could also ask... what 'Lady Enya' thinks of this matter."

Hragor sighed softly: "Although the 'Lady Enya' of today is merely a residual aggregate of human nature, at least her memory inheritance is quite complete. We should ask."

...

On the northern border of the Cecil Empire, the coastal city of "Northport" was welcoming the brilliant light of noon. Fine waves lapped against the defensive structures ringing the harbor's outer edge; the Wintersol's majestic bow reared proudly toward the sky as this vast maritime fortress came smoothly to rest alongside Pier One in the military district. At the front of her upper deck, Byron, wrapped in a naval greatcoat, stepped forward, gazing at the familiar city and coastline, unable to keep a smile from his face.

"This really was quite a 'voyage,'" he muttered. "I wonder if the girl at home has missed me..."

A low roar from high above interrupted his soliloquy. Byron looked up toward the sky, and in the bright radiance poured down by the giant sun he saw the silhouette of a red dragon skimming beneath the clouds, then circling above the city district. Amid the roar peculiar to dragonkind, that red dragon clad in full-body mechanical armor seemed to be greeting the Wintersol at the dock.

Byron laughed and waved back at the red dragon high above.

(End of Chapter)