Chapter 54: The Traveler of Time
Echoes of Legends
Edward later cracked a joke without much decorum. When silence fell, he sank into quiet reminiscence. “It’s been a long time since anyone called me a hero. Is that written in storybooks too…?” No sword hung at his side anymore. His plain clothes still carried the subtle care of his beloved. Wenger couldn’t imagine such an ordinary man under the gaze of countless eyes.
“You’re in many books, Mr. Leon.” She didn’t mention that their names had been forgotten by the world. Was it time’s erosion or people’s indifference? Stories often held symbols of identity, not tales of real people. The demon clan now lived in the northern lands; she’d heard no rumors of a demon king. Perhaps in this era, the hero had already achieved such feats. Thus, the future was left with hazy, beautiful fairy tales, no longer facing mythical beings.
But for the current kingdom, the demon clan remained a formidable foe. Would Edward Leon be disappointed? As an outsider, she held no grudge against another race—only curiosity. Could ten thousand years pass without progress? Or had that savage era birthed sages who forged a new age? Asking about time was foolish. Over such a long history, even unexcavated traces might not survive this era.
Wenger leaned toward the stories being exaggerated but was sure a significant time had passed. She gained no desired answers, only more questions. Unable to sort it out, she mentioned leaving soon. Edward, knowing little, urged her to stay. They returned to the cabin, where Vick was speaking with Aranold.
“Leaving?” Aranold winked at Wenger, glancing at Vick. Wenger didn’t catch the hint, quietly waiting for her next words. Aranold’s lips drooped helplessly. “I need to talk to Wenger. Can you two step out?” The men belatedly closed the door behind them.
Curious, Wenger watched as Aranold placed a handful of glowing white crystals in her hand. “These might be useful.” She rummaged in her pocket, as if searching for something else but finding nothing. “I’ll return the scale later.” “I picked it up by chance.” “It’s yours now—it doesn’t belong here.”
Aranold smiled, sharing Agamemnon’s story. A wandering god, punched by a crazed “giant moth” and resting here for years. She’d seen the scale in their hands, unsure why it was damaged in Wenger’s. It sounded like Aranold was saying, Take the trouble away. Another god. Wenger had now heard of three: the Silent Lord Lereseth, the Moon and Harvest Goddess Selunia, and Agamemnon. Each more intricate than the last.
“Exchange everything” was quite a claim—what could she say? She hadn’t believed at first, but a god? That was some power. The other two were plain by comparison. Aranold knew Wenger worried about her student—further urging was unnecessary. “I’ll see you out.” “That’s too…” Aranold cut off her refusal. “You might not get out without me. You understand, don’t you?”
A guest not of this spacetime. She didn’t know how to marvel at an eighteen-year-old reaching the fourth tier. During the ritual, she’d noticed time stagnating around Wenger, leaving her unsure whether to feel sorrow or luck. What good would telling her do? Moments later, the men watched the women walk hand-in-hand to the courtyard’s edge, chatting.
“If we meet again someday.” “If we meet again someday.” Wenger echoed her words. No need to clarify—both knew it was unlikely. The next honey tea together might never come. Perhaps this was their last meeting.
Aranold stepped into the air, exuding spiritual pressure that warped spacetime. A distorted shadow expanded and solidified, radiant light sparkling like a galaxy, scales glinting like stars in the night. Silver-gray vertical pupils held majesty, dragon wings stirring a howling storm with a slight stretch. A mountain-like form lowered beside the quiet town. A slightly jarring voice rang in their ears. “Hurry up!”
Wenger saw a dragon’s full form for the first time. The fleeting glimpse at the mage tower had been veiled in mist, nothing like this overwhelming pressure. Edward stayed behind, softly urging, “Come back soon.” “Hmph~” The silver dragon responded, not quite agreeing. Wenger climbed onto her, Vick following a step behind.
Aranold spread her wings again, spacetime twisting. The scale floated, resonating. Its damaged parts filled with flowing light, even the pan taking shape. “Hold tight.” In an instant, the three shot into the endless “night.” The sudden force was shielded by Aranold. Familiar dizziness hit.
“Visit my future self if you can, see if I’ve become annoying.” Wenger answered indirectly. “Probably very happy.” Having someone waiting at home must be blissful. “Why think that?” Aranold asked, half-curious, half-teasing. “Aren’t you two happy together? Not too many conflicts, right?” “Oh, there are. He still won’t let me off, telling me to hurry back just now!” “Eh…?”
Wenger didn’t understand—she’d never been in love, let alone married. Hate breeding hate was complex. Aranold’s next words threw her thoughts off track, freezing her for seconds. “Yeah, every night we fight. Edward says if I’m not convinced, we’ll fight till I am…” Her cheeks flushed, and she glanced back. Vick sat there. Relieved, she realized he likely hadn’t heard. Such a bold topic was a bit too mature—good thing Viyi wasn’t here.
Minutes into the flight, Wenger felt mana vibrations, resonating with the timeline. Aranold’s silver form broke through the gray mist, disintegrating midair. Countless particles glowed briefly in the dark, like a shining galaxy. “See you…” Her farewell cut off, scattering into the night. Only the glowing scale lingered, its light fading fast.
Wenger and Vick soared upward under the force. At the edge of her vision, she caught a flickering, pitiful flame. The bracelet responded to her mana’s vibration, her formidable mental energy piercing the deathly aura, finding a familiar figure thousands of meters below. “Viyi—!”