Dragon Raja 4; Chapter 19: Journey to the End of the World (19)

Dragon Raja 4

She had sung him that song, “The Warrior,” simply on a whim, feeling like that man was a monster who would never shed his armor.

She even wondered if that person was missing some neural circuits in his brain, so how had that girl on the screen managed to connect with him?

Suddenly, she spun and leaped back, landing gracefully as she grabbed the axe-gun from the wall, looking fierce like a warrior from a painting.

On the sofa by the porthole, a man in a bird-beaked mask sat in the light streaming in from outside. His voice was gentle, with a trace of laughter. “That fierce spirit certainly befits the name ‘Reginleif.’”

He pointed to the wall, where a bohemian-style summer dress had appeared at some point. Its garish colors looked neither elegant nor sophisticated, almost frivolous. “Try wearing that dress and relive that autumn. To embrace death in a beautiful dream is better than spending a lifetime in memories.”

By the time Reginleif looked back from the dress, the man by the window had disappeared.

Chu Zihang woke up from a long dream, staring silently at the ceiling of the cabin for a long time.

In the dream, he seemed to be in a water town in Jiangnan, gently rowing a small boat downstream. Peach blossoms lined the misty banks, and bird calls echoed from an unknown distance. Ahead, an arched bridge appeared, and a girl holding an umbrella stood upon it, her figure blurred by the mist. His boat drifted leisurely through the bridge’s arch, and at that moment, he looked up, making eye contact with the girl. Through the haze, he couldn’t make out her face. As the boat floated away, the world behind him slowly vanished into the thick fog.

There was no deeper meaning to this dream. He knew who the girl on the bridge was and understood what this encounter symbolized. The bridge and river formed a cross, and on the intersecting paths of life, the two people would only meet once. He hadn’t clearly seen her face, and she hadn’t jumped off the bridge to land on his boat.

The Nibelungen under the Beijing subway had already been sealed. The remains of Jörmungandr and Fenrir were left behind there, and to this day, the college’s alchemy team hadn’t found a way to reopen it. Perhaps years from now, that Nibelungen would open again, and the girl and her brother would emerge from it, but by then, Chu Zihang would no longer be around. Neither would Xia Mi, who had been a fictional person to begin with, just a ripple in the life of a dragon. To the Dragon Kings, after all, ripples are not the true form of life; the rolling river is.

It had been a long time since he had dreamed of Xia Mi. The lifestyle of an adult sealed away those memories one by one, most of which he would rather never open again. Because reopening them is pointless; memories are just memories in the end.

Recently, things had been strange. Ever since he boarded this ship, memories of Xia Mi had been constantly resurfacing in his mind. Perhaps the solitude of traveling through the frozen sea was to blame.

He turned on the screen by his bed, which was playing the captain’s broadcast on repeat. With a serious expression, Sasha announced that a regrettable incident had occurred on the ship—Lady Cassandra had been found dead in the hallway leading to the steering compartment. The cause of death still required further investigation, and homicide could not be ruled out. To ensure the passengers’ safety, security patrols would be strengthened, and passengers’ outdoor activities would be restricted. He also apologized for the ship’s temporary communication blackout, blaming it on heightened solar activity. However, he suggested that passengers take the opportunity to enjoy the spectacular auroras.

Chu Zihang walked over to the porthole, gazing at the brilliant lights in the sky, lost in thought. The events unfolding now seemed to have explanations, but at the same time, the coincidences felt overwhelming. They had become an isolated ship adrift on the vast ocean, far from any land or other vessels. It was as if they were trapped in an information black hole, gradually disconnecting from the real world. Their only lifeline was this massive steel ship, which was advertised as an indomitable iron island capable of crossing the frozen sea. Yet, this island seemed to have been parasitized by some unknown entity.

Suddenly, he experienced another bout of dizziness, a metallic taste rising in his throat as his vision became tinged with vivid hues. He quickly grabbed two pills from the drawer and swallowed them, leaning on the desk and breathing heavily for a while before the violent conflict within him subsided. His time left as a warrior was running out. This thought reminded him of his mentor, Professor Schneider, who had fought his entire life but never found his true enemy. Perhaps this was a warrior’s fate. At first, you step onto the battlefield for someone or something, but gradually you forget that person or that cause, leaving only the instinct to fight, living in the fleeting flashes of blades.

He glanced at the clock. It had been 12 hours since they lost contact with the outside world. During a mission, a 12-hour communication blackout was enough to trigger EVA’s safety protocols. Although his connection with the college had been temporarily severed, EVA’s protective umbrella still covered him, a belief ingrained in every agent of the Execution Bureau. Neither Vincent nor his subordinates posed a threat to Chu Zihang, but the embryo capable of corroding this steel ship did. He didn’t know if the embryo had consciousness or what its purpose was, but he instinctively sensed that he was in the calm before the storm.

In the deep mountains of northern Illinois, halfway up a hill beside a lake, stood the secluded and classical architecture of Cassell College.

It was late at night. Deep within the library, Schneider, the head of the Execution Bureau, sat at a long table, hand-writing a letter:

“Dear Principal Anjou and members of the Board, after careful consideration, I have decided to resign from my position in the Execution Bureau and my teaching duties at the college…”

Several crumpled drafts filled the wastebasket at his feet. He had started this letter over many times but grew increasingly frustrated with each attempt. He wanted to leave in a manner that was classical and dignified, but part of him couldn’t accept it. Two years ago, Schneider would never have written such a letter. Back then, he believed he would fight until his last breath. He could die from an enemy’s blade or from organ failure, but not from suddenly collapsing on the carpet at home, only to be rushed to the hospital by concerned neighbors and quietly passing away under a priest’s watch.

But he had to admit that he was increasingly unable to bear the responsibilities of the Execution Bureau. There were several hours each day when he would feel drowsy, and doctors had forbidden him from overworking, as he could collapse at any moment. He didn’t mind dying on duty, but if it happened while handling a critical task, it could lead to disastrous consequences. Manstein had gently suggested he designate a successor, someone who could step in immediately if something happened to him. He had considered whether that person could be Chu Zihang, but Chu’s health wasn’t much better than his.

He was very reluctant about this. He had not yet found the culprit behind the Greenland incident, and compared to Anjou and the vice principal, he was still relatively young. Why should he be the first to step down? However, he had to consider the safety of the Secret Party and even the human world. A man guarding the borders of the human world should not be someone who might fall at any moment. Clinging to revenge and not stepping down would be irresponsible.

He stifled his frustration and prepared to continue writing when he heard the old man across from him starting his nagging again: “Schneider, I still think you should work a few more years. Your deputies are far behind you. Besides Chu Zihang, can’t Lu Mingfei take your position? He’s just young and needs more experience, but he’s a genius who received an S-Rank evaluation during his time at the college! Your career should, of course, be handed over to a genius!”

Schneider really wanted to throw his tea in Guderian’s face. He had shared his intention to resign, hoping to hear some comforting or encouraging words from a friend, but Guderian had immediately become agitated and spent the entire night pestering him. Once, Guderian was just a naive thinker with no permanent professor position, but now he had become the chairman of the teaching committee. In fact, even today, he was still a bit scatterbrained, but queens are honored by their sons, and professors gain glory through their students. Professor Guderian had also become an educator who loved to talk about ideals.

In the future, Guderian might suggest that Anjou pass the principal position to Lu Mingfei as well. Of course, Guderian might not say it, but the principal might have that plan. Anjou’s relationship with that strange S-Rank kid is very “father-like,” as if his direct mentor and the principal were his real fathers, and the vice principal could be considered a godfather.

Just as Schneider was about to slam his pen on the table in anger, a laser beam descended from above, and EVA materialized in mid-air, her white dress flowing like rolling clouds, with countless characters flowing in her eyes.

“Professor Schneider, Professor Guderian, I apologize for disturbing your private time, but our agent Chu Zihang, who was sent to investigate the Arctic Ocean, has been out of contact for 12 hours. According to the last intelligence sent by Agent Chu, there might be a crisis brewing on the cruise ship named Yamal, and the person controlling that ship is from the ‘Twilight Dogma,’ which split off from the Secret Party.”