The Divine Mystery

After hearing those words, Raphael's eyes instantly lit up as he tensed his swaying body.

"Do you know what you're saying? Even a madman's words should be chosen carefully depending on who they're spoken to." He lowered his center of gravity, his four limbs pressing firmly against the ground as his four immense wings suddenly raised up high!

"You…please don't get angry…" Fylric Jaxon was so shaken by the abrupt surge of masculine ferocity that he plopped down on his rear. Even a frenzied cultist would temporarily regain his calm when faced with such an encroaching aura of death.

"If others would just laugh off a madman's words, I however want to cleanse these undesirable bloodlines to prevent such cases from occurring in future generations." Raphael bared his fangs, slowly approaching the black priest on the pile of coins.

"Molten dragon, why must you hold violence as your creed? If you wish to know the profundities, could you not humbly ask to be taught?"

Paladin showed no signs of fear, causing Raphael to suspect this guy was like the ostriches of the desert who just stuck their heads in the sand at any danger, blindly oblivious.

"Get out!"

Raphael suddenly turned his head to order Fylric Jaxon's departure. "You're no longer needed here."

Before the dragon Cult leader could say a word, he was grabbed by ever-vigilant blood wyvern guard descending from the sky and carried away.

"Alright, spill whatever secrets you have." The crimson dragon's golden eyes glared piercingly at the black priest with an imperious air.

He did indeed feel a sense of bewilderment in his heart. Prior to that fateful encounter with behemoth, his life had always been smooth sailing, at most just possessing the special traits of powerful magic and an extremely sturdy physical body. Other than that, no different from an ordinary red dragon.

But after that battle, he quickly encountered variables - humans.

Then old friends like Arnold and Nana whom he hadn't seen in decades or centuries successively appeared, even his power exploding to the point he could slay two dragon lords and seize their domains.

Subsequently he was lured to the human world. Up until now, with gold, hatred, vengeance, humans, dwarves, mysteries, and himself all tangled up, he estimated he likely couldn't extricate himself in this lifetime.

All of this was driven by a single "cause", and Raphael believed it wasn't purely coincidental - there must be unseen forces at work behind it all, such as fate itself.

"Speak up, I have a feeling you're someone who can unravel part of the bewilderment in my heart." The crimson dragon drooped his wings, resting his head on his arms as he stared at the other party.

Paladin turned to look back at him, and Raphael felt that gaze from beneath the robe was extremely ordinary, like two completely equal individuals without any discrimination looking at each other.

"In fact, molten dragon, I can't really be considered a 'human'."

Two arms extended out, the wide sleeves falling to the bottom, and Raphael's pupils immediately constricted!

"You're a treeman?!"

Paladin's body hidden beneath the black robe was partially exposed.

Roots and vines of mottled colors were tightly interwoven, with red anomalous lights flickering in the gaps. The traces on those twisted vines were ancient, like the boulders on the sea floor, a deep ashen gray symbolic of death spreading across them.

The treeman peeled off the human skin on his two forearms, which had been incredibly lifelike gloves. Inside were thin vines resembling worms that could freely contort and combine to mimic the shape of human hands with ease.

Lifting up his branch-tentacles, he removed his robe to reveal a pallid, ghostly dead man's face - that grayish-white skin tinged with streaks of bluish-purple looked nothing like a person, even more frightening than a specter.

"Now you understand why I said I witnessed everything with my own eyes?" Paladin removed the face mask to unveil a head shaped from braided vines, seven-colored radiance constantly emanating from within.

"A treeman? This is my first time seeing one occurring naturally." Raphael suppressed his inner shock, recalling how during the Dragon Valley melee, the silver dragon Emersen had summoned a giant tree army with his horn.

Paladin no longer removed his outer appearance, looking frail and short, completely different from the legendary towering trees said to be dozens of meters tall.

"You haven't grown up yet? Or have you shriveled with old age?" Raphael joked.

"Molten dragon, you would never know the origins of my kind. However, those man-made experimental products cannot be compared to me," Paladin said slowly, folding his arms behind his back and responding in a gloomy tone.

He did not exhibit any of the natural harmony and deliberateness described of treeman in books.

Rather, he seemed like an inscrutable schemer.

The light in Raphael's belly gradually brightened. "Oh?"

"In terms of power, your strength is indeed formidable. I am merely a priest, incapable of contending against you." Despite having no eyes on his tree person face, Paladin could sense the precursor of Raphael gathering his breath.

"Then as a treeman, how did you come to know all this? And what role did you play in it?" The crimson dragon's expression grew increasingly cold.

"Tens of thousands of years ago, the Mu continent was just a wild expanse, with only pitiful natives eking out a harsh existence in the unforgiving natural environment." The black priest spoke calmly.

"But my God came to this land, bringing us, His absolutely devoted followers."

Raphael's expression instantly froze.

Then he reacted in a flash. "You mean to say the dragon race are outsiders?"

"Of course, how could such enormous beasts possibly be sustained on that impoverished little land?" Paladin sneered coldly.

Raphael's mind raced. "So our ancestral home is actually somewhere overseas we don't know of? No wonder the old dragons fly away at death!"

"But why did the God come here? Nowadays the religions about God are almost all moribund - did He fall? If the Behemoth recorded by Elder Ermina is God, then according to Paladin we loyal dragon followers tried to kill Him? And are humans also outsiders? The Behemoth in human form I saw, was that God's true appearance? Is He not dead?"

The massive influx of information battered Raphael's mind, making him feel the fog shrouding this world had only deepened another layer.

After a long silence, Raphael suppressed all these doubts to the depths of his heart, asking only one question: "Your tone tells me you were among the first to arrive here. So why don't you remain to serve your God, instead disguising yourself as a human over here?"

Paladin spoke slowly, "He has fallen into a certain slumber."

"Beaten into death by my ancestors? Just how weak is this God?"

This time the black priest fell into a long silence.

"With your identity, what you say cannot be considered blasphemy. As long as one has a physical body in this world, one must obey the rules of the material realm - even Gods are no exception."

Raphael stared at this guy hesitantly for a moment, but ultimately could not help voicing all the questions that had stormed through his mind earlier, yet the answers he received were ineffable.

"Molten dragon, I indeed wish to tell you everything. Guarding these secrets for so long has tormented my heart day and night. However, I cannot reveal them, for I have sworn an oath before the Supreme God never to divulge the core secrets to the uninitiated - telling you would be a grave blasphemy. However, the peripheries are fine."

Raphael deeply furrowed his brows.

He was considering whether it would be feasible to use force to coerce this creature into revealing everything.

But looking at those mottled grayish-white vines and the dark lights constantly shooting out from the gaps in the twisted tendrils, Raphael abandoned that idea.

If what this guy said was true, his immense age was unimaginable - threats to his life would hardly be a binding constraint.

"Then what about this appellation 'Molten Dragon'? Can you explain that clearly?" Ultimately he asked the reason for his being called over.

Paladin walked up closer. Raphael observed that this ancient treeman's gait was very fluid, without any sense of a plodding, step-by-step heaviness.

"It seems his legs can't be wooden stumps," crimson dragon thought idly.

The black priest extended his vine-hands, the thin branches contracting and transforming until five sharp claw-tips took shape.

He then bent his fingers upwards, and a small flame coalesced in his palm.

"The warm fire, a miracle bestowed by God," he muttered. The flame in his palm slowly rose, emanating soothing, rippling waves of life's wellspring that nurtured all wounds. Raphael felt some of his internal injuries gradually healing.

"This is…?"

What shocked the crimson dragon even more was that the horns on his head were accelerating in regrowth, the protruding broken horn visibly lengthening at a rapid pace.

"Impossible! This is something even self-regeneration cannot accomplish!"

After a while, Raphael stroked his now completely reformed large horns in disbelief.

"Can you use this spell anytime?" He immediately reacted that perhaps Nana could be saved.

"This is a miracle, not a spell. Its potency also depends on how devoutly the believer venerates their God - God will unstintingly grant His formidable power in full measure." Paladin raised one arm to cover half his face, while the other pressed firmly against his chest, seeming to take a ritualistic stance.

"But your God seems to have been beaten to death…" Raphael reminded him in a low voice.

"Molten dragon, miracles have different origins. The warm fire was not bestowed by my God, but another Supreme One who should still be alive currently, so the source of divine power need not be worried about."

Paladin pointed upwards. "The sun, the source of life - the miracle of the warm fire comes from Him. Unless He explodes and perishes, this miracle will remain effective."

"Why bring the sun into this again?"

Raphael was completely confused. He had originally thought Gods were some kind of supremely powerful being, but the sun was a natural phenomenon.

"To return to the topic - the 'Molten Dragon' refers to the 'Life Dragon'. Theological theory holds that your kind excels at creating life and death, stemming from that innate secretion of intense heat - the so-called dragon's breath, in common parlance."

"In practical reality, alchemical magic was pioneered by you. Killing metals, then reviving them - not limited to living things. The alloys thus forged reached the pinnacle in the material realm, hence 'molten'."

Raphael immediately objected, "Impossible, my breath only brings destruction and calamity, no ability to revive."

Paladin fell silent, likely brushing up against that "confidentiality".

The crimson dragon was indignant. "Then what about the cursed gold?"

"As I just said, you excel at alchemy, even transmuting decay into wonders - that gold came about as such. As for the curse…that has nothing to do with you."

Raphael watched this guy continually dangle hints in front of him yet truly unable to reveal more, and turned away in suppressed frustration.

"Could I learn your miracle?" Finally he made a pragmatic request.

"Miracles are not spells - they are God's blessings, so only God's believers can singularly use them. Unless I voluntarily pass it on to you, which would mean I too would lose the condition to use it."

Raphael understood - this miracle was finite in quantity. Giving it to one person meant the other lost access, just like a weapon where unless new ones were produced, there were only so many.

"Go. I hope you won't refuse when I need you." Ultimately he let the ancient treeman leave, needing to properly sort through the information received.

Paladin retrieved the human skin from the ground, slowly donning it again. Pulling down the hood and letting the wide sleeves fall, he reverted to that former inscrutable mysterious appearance, showing no non-human traits.

"Farewell, molten dragon. I've been seeking a way to revive my God - perhaps you could cooperate with me."

The black priest departed escorted by a blood wyvern, leaving Raphael alone in the golden nest.

"Molten? Transmuting rock into gold?"

He turned over, no longer dwelling on those convoluted divine mysteries, gradually returning to reality.

First, Paladin being an ancient treeman had indeed shaken him, but this was also a being with an immense hoard of hidden treasures who must have learned many secrets over the years to share.

Next was that miracle.

"My horn really did heal like that - it truly is an extraordinary skill."

The crimson dragon looked up at the sky, where myriad stars woven together into a celestial river, yet he knew they only shone by the sun's light.

"The sun? How many miracles does that guy possess? The power within must be extraordinary…"

Power was another of his pursuits, becoming stronger ingrained like an instinct in his thoughts.

"I have to find a way to obtain it. But before that, I need to try healing Nana."

Then Raphael suddenly thought of something and flew up to the golden nest's dome, forcefully tearing off a huge chunk of rock.

"Shhhh…" He began gathering power, his belly chamber instantly blazing with dazzling golden light!

Roar!

Golden flame erupted forth, targeting the massive boulder in his clutches.

In less than a second, the golden flame only lightly grazed it and the huge rock vanished without a trace, leaving only flying ash and shattered fragments.

Raphael didn't get discouraged, breaking off another stone and repeating the above actions.

The stone met the same fate as the previous one. He tried a third time, a fourth.

After the fifth attempt, his inner anti-mana reserves were gradually depleted and Raphael could only give up.

"It seems the golden flames also lack the ability to transmute rock into gold…then why did Paladin say that? It makes no sense for him to lie…did we lose certain abilities over time from degeneration?"

Raphael shook his head, abandoning further attempts at alchemy.

...

Time quickly passed until the day before the appointed negotiations.

The candidates decided on by the Erl side made their preparations one by one before boarding the ground III headed south to Oakland.

Evan steadied his wide-brimmed hat against the gale-force winds, complaining to his subordinate in the adjacent seat,

"This is too steep! The frigid wind feels like needles on my face, I…" The Ground III suddenly hit a rock obstruction, violently shaking and nearly tossing Evan out.

"Vattier, just bear with it," the dwarf engineer at the controls was clearly well-accustomed to such conditions, his body extremely relaxed as he swayed with the motions.

"When we dwarves originally piloted the Ground II working at Pillar Mountain, a bottomless abyss yawned underfoot - if a wrench slipped even slightly it would plunge into the depths. Driving on flat ground is no issue in comparison."

Evan wanted to retort but soon couldn't stand it any longer, leaning over the side to vomit. But he abruptly stumbled, his whole body bouncing back, the vomit consequently splattering inwards and leaving the rear seats a complete mess.