Dragon Raja 4; Chapter 22: Journey to the End of the World (22)

Dragon Raja 4

Anjou’s butt had just left the sofa but immediately fell back into place. “Professor Henkel, you can start your lecture now.”

“We once discussed that for the dragons, history is not limited to the past. The past is history that has already happened, and the future is history that is about to happen,” Henkel’s old eyes gradually sparkled with light. “This is a peculiar view of history; it implies fatalism. Certain prophesied events are unavoidable, like the resurrection of the Black Emperor, which will lead to disasters and wars, and the gods will fall in that war, their fates already written.”

“From the perspective of classical physics, this means fatalism, but relativity tells us that time is also one of the dimensions in this universe. Let us assume there is a being living in a four-dimensional space, who can freely adjust their position on the time axis. To them, yesterday, today, and tomorrow are all the same, like pages that can be flipped through.” Henkel picked up a piece of paper and drew a simple stick figure. “This may sound esoteric, but let’s think in one dimension less. A two-dimensional figure cannot comprehend how we in three dimensions can freely adjust our height.”

He folded the paper into an airplane and tossed it. The airplane flew around the room and landed back in his hand.

In most people’s eyes, Henkel was a legendary cowboy and the leader of the hybrid species in the American Midwest, yet he held a PhD from MIT, where he had been teaching part-time for years, mainly on relativity. He was also one of the pioneers at Oak Ridge National Laboratory. His long life as a hybrid species was well used. He began studying physics at the age of 40, completing his doctoral dissertation in just three years.

“Are you saying dragons are creatures that live in a four-dimensional space?” Anjou scratched his brow. “If that’s the case, we can never defeat them, can we?”

“They might have found a way to penetrate the timeline, but they can’t exhaust the dimension of time. The timeline isn’t a straight line, nor a curve. It’s an infinite number of spirals entangled with one another, surrounded by a mist that conceals those spirals’ trajectories. Every possibility for the future hides within that mist. Every life form is an observer of this universe. What your future holds depends on what you observe and make manifest… Okay, I know you studied medicine, and this might sound too… complicated. But in short, the Black Emperor’s resurrection is a focal point on the world line.”

“A focal point?” Anjou asked.

“Let’s assume there are multiple possibilities for the world, just like in the microscopic world where you can’t pinpoint the location of an electron but instead get a probabilistic cloud. However, among the many possibilities, some events are bound to happen. The scattered threads are drawn back by that event, and that’s what we call a focal point. Maybe there’s a universe where I suffered a brain hemorrhage and one where I didn’t, but in every universe, the Black Emperor will be resurrected. Whether I had a brain hemorrhage or not won’t affect that supreme being’s resurrection.”

“I get it. We can change the future of the world, but we can’t change certain decisive events… Once they’re foretold, they’re written into history.” Anjou pondered.

“The fundamental belief of the Twilight Dogma isn’t Odin, but Ragnarok. They believe that the Black Emperor’s resurrection is inevitable, that a doomsday-level war will definitely occur, and even the Dragon Kings, who claim to be gods, can’t stay out of it. So, they seek a way to save themselves, whether through Odin or the Gate to the Divine Realm. If they’re right, the pure-blooded dragons should be nervous as well. In such a focal-point-level event, everyone’s the same: if you survive, you become the new dragons, or rather, new gods. If you don’t, you’ll become the old gods hanging on the world tree. The new gods want to replace the old gods, and the old gods are preparing to evolve into new gods. If there really is a gate to the divine realm, rivers of blood will flow before it, and that, too, is a focal point.”

“Why have you never told me this before?” Anjou asked.

“I just thought of it for fun. I’ve been trying to unify theology and science. Newton and Einstein both attempted this,” Henkel shrugged. “I never said this was a conclusion.”

“If you were to assassinate two big figures chatting in a rundown suburban house, what method would you use?” Anjou suddenly turned his head and looked out the window.

Henkel was startled. “Are you kidding? This is Chicago. Who would dare assassinate us here? Besides, I haven’t had to personally deal with assassinations for years… Poisoning would be the more dignified method, but our resistance to poison is pretty strong… A direct assault wouldn’t work, not with a monster like you around… Installing a bomb underneath the villa might work, something on the scale of tens of tons, and it would blow the entire estate sky-high. Even with your Time Zero, you wouldn’t escape the blast radius.” Henkel became immersed in his thoughts, feeling a strange excitement.

“What about drones?” Anjou interrupted. “High-speed machine guns, anti-tank rounds, low-altitude strikes… I can’t outrun infrared guidance.”

Henkel froze, concentrating on the howling wind outside. Amidst the wind, the sound of approaching thunder seemed to echo, but in such a stormy weather, even the clouds couldn’t be so loud, where would the thunder come from?

“Miss Margaret has been taking far too long to brew that tea, and your dilapidated villa is unnaturally quiet,” Anjou said coldly.

Henkel suddenly realized what was happening. He had been so engrossed in their academic discussion that he hadn’t noticed the eerie silence in the house. Although he had stepped down from his high position, he still had a small team of housekeepers, bodyguards, and gardeners around him. Now, there wasn’t even the sound of a third person’s breathing—the place had become as desolate as a haunted house. The house trembled slightly, the wine in the glass rippling, and thunder exploded in their ears. Outside, the tumbleweeds that had been rolling on the ground suddenly flew into the sky.

Anjou grabbed Henkel and dashed through the window. Moments later, Henkel’s old mansion was engulfed in a massive fireball.

“This is a day of humiliation for me, Fideris von Henkel! I will remember this day forever!” Henkel roared.

“Are you talking about being assassinated on your own turf, or being carried to safety by your arch-enemy like a princess?” Anjou managed to speak normally while sprinting.

“You still have time to joke around? Why not run a bit faster?” Henkel stared at the black monstrous eagle rolling in the dust clouds. “What about your Yanling? I can accelerate with Time Zero, but if I extend its exemption to you, I can only hold it for a few seconds! In open ground, I can’t run even a kilometer.”

Anjou, carrying Henkel, dashed through the swirling tumbleweeds. They had managed to survive until now thanks to these tumbleweeds, which spun and flew wildly in the gale whipped up by the drone, obscuring its line of sight. It was an attack drone with two anti-tank missiles and two gun pods under its wide wings, and a large-caliber optical targeting system hanging from its belly. It was only about six or seven meters above the ground; flying tumbleweeds could almost hit it. It had swooped over Anjou and Henkel’s heads three times, dropping dense bullet rains each time. The massive-caliber bullets hit the ground, raising dust three or four meters high, hitting a person would have obvious consequences.

In the age of cold weapons, Time Zero was an invincible Yanling, at least good for a safe retreat. But times had changed; modern weapons could destroy an entire area.

“EVA! How long until air support arrives?” Anjou shouted into his headset.

“Our drones will take another 12 minutes to arrive. Principal, you might have to find a way on your own.”

Anjou’s Maserati sped up, and the two high-speed machine guns hidden below the headlights fired at the drone—this was all EVA could do. She was remotely driving the car via satellite. But the bulletproof car shell and the weapon system effective against infantry were useless against the drone. The drone took advantage of a tail-swing hover to launch a precise barrage, turning the Maserati into another fireball.

It flew away from Henkel and Anjou’s heads again, but it would circle back soon. They had only a dozen seconds left.

Ahead was that gnarled, ghostly dead tree; they might both end up buried beneath it, whether they liked it or not.

“Put me down!” Henkel grabbed Anjou’s shoulder.

“Don’t say something so heroic! I’m still thinking of a way!” Anjou shouted.

Henkel was stunned for a moment. “Damn it! I’m thinking of a way too! I don’t want to die! Put me down! Use your Time Zero!”

Henkel drew out his alchemical revolver, “Texas Dawn.” In the world of hybrids, this weapon held historical significance, comparable to Anjou’s folding knife. Henkel lay on the ground, aiming at the sky. Anjou chanted in ancient draconic, and a transparent field expanded like a breath, enveloping them both. Time slowed down in their perception—the clouds in the sky drifted slowly, the sound of the wind was as light as a child’s whisper in a dream, and the tumbleweeds flying all around looked like bursting soap bubbles.

The screeching monstrous eagle broke through the tumbleweed’s cover and dove down with the ferocity of a demonic spirit, aiming a second anti-tank missile right at Henkel’s forehead. The missile detached from its mount, its launcher primed for ignition. This was the moment Henkel had been waiting for—the terrifying thing had detached from its mother’s body but hadn’t fully awakened yet.

Both guns fired simultaneously, and the bullets struck the tail fins of the anti-tank missile! The missile ignited successfully, but with damaged tail fins, it couldn’t control its trajectory and spiraled towards the old tree.

A rain of fire poured down, turning the old tree into a burning claw reaching for the sky—a scene of great artistic beauty and symbolic meaning in the desolate grassland.

Ange glanced that way and softly admired, “If this was ever painted, I would consider buying it.”

“It’s not over yet! Focus!” Henkel shouted.

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