Chapter 1033 — The End of Eternity
Blade of Dawn · Page 4 of 5
The ancient, heavy gate opened without a sound. In this stagnant space-time, one million eight hundred seventy thousand years had not in the least corroded the miracle the dragonkin had once created with the strength of their entire race — Anqian and Hragor stepped through the gate, and the lights came on one by one as they entered.
Bayang'er followed close behind.
They passed through a very short corridor, through a connecting passage far too vast for human bodies, and arrived at a ring-shaped platform where a cylindrical lift was already waiting.
Lights flickered on the lift's surface, and on its smooth alloy shell, concise symbols marked useful information — a style utterly different from the decadent, corrupt Talrond of one million eight hundred seventy thousand years later. Hragor had not seen its like in many years.
The lift descended in silence, carrying the three dragonkin in human form deep into the "tower" — they passed through layer after layer of isolation bulkheads and heavy gates within the shaft, and the whole descent lasted a full half minute before the lift came to a stop in a broad place that resembled a control room.
As Hragor stepped out of the lift, the lights before him brightened in unison. He saw a spacious hall, lined with pillar after pillar in the ancient dragonkin style, and between the pillars many seats — everything just as it was deep in his memory.
They quickly found the seats that belonged to them — three seats so conspicuous, set at the very end of the hall's front, still as new as ever despite the vast stretch of time.
A faint tremor came from outside, and the air seemed to carry a chilling aura of malice and madness, a power beyond mortal imagination.
And yet, compared with the past million-odd years, this presence had weakened immeasurably, to the point where Heragol could resist it by willpower alone.
He knew that this "weakening" had been bought at a tremendous price.
The three did not speak; they simply walked forward in silence and sat down in silence. Bayang'er began working the many buttons before him, An Qian activated the systems under his charge, and Heragol laid his hand on a crystal protrusion at the front of his seat, delicately steering the many magical conduits within the crystal — and so an ancient creation slowly stirred from its long slumber.
Before them the great curved window brightened, becoming a projected veil that displayed the scene outside: in the crisp image one could see the sky near the "Tower," the light that kept seeping in, and the phantom dragons hanging motionless in the heavens.
An Qian's gaze was drawn irresistibly to those phantom dragons. His hand rested beside a panel on the right of his seat, but before carrying out the operation he could not help saying softly, "Want to look a little longer? Once we start, we will never see them again."
Heragol's gaze too fell upon those phantoms of the past, and among them he found many figures he had once known — old friends, old lovers, old sons and daughters... The names of those lost in the War of Defiance one million eight hundred seventy thousand years ago flowed slowly up from the depths of his heart, and yet he closed his eyes.
"Navigator An Qian, I authorize you to activate the engine — let these phantoms be released. They have long since taken up residence in our hearts."
"Yes, Captain."
An Qian drew a deep breath and activated the final sequence of the system.
The next moment, a low rumble came from the body of that vast, ancient beast, and the trembling of the entire hall heralded the belated "maiden voyage" at last beginning, millions of years overdue.
Heragol felt a gentle yet unwavering acceleration.